#A Momentary Lapse of Reason (series)

[lothiriel84]

On the Other Side from You

In the early days of her marriage, she had used to daydream of a world in which Mr Darcy did not exist, and she was still the carefree girl roaming the fields around Longbourn, with no prospect of becoming a wife and a mother anytime soon.

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Darcy/Elizabeth. AU to the near-kiss in the rain from the 2005 film adaptation.

Still trembling with righteous indignation from their explosive fight not two hours prior, Elizabeth marched into his study, quickly dismissing the fleeting pang of guilt at the impropriety of rifling through one’s husband correspondence without permission. After everything he had done to stand in the way of Jane’s happiness, she was most certainly not prepared to take him at his word on this matter; she needed to see Mr Bingley’s letter for herself, if only to be reassured that any undue interference on Mr Darcy’s part was entirely over.  

By now, she had long resigned herself to a lifetime with a husband she could not respect, for the sake of the child she was carrying if nothing else; but she could not, would not stand for the same fate befalling her beloved sister, and if that meant betraying her future brother’s confidence, then so be it. A rather coarse word escaped her as she struggled with the uppermost drawer of his writing desk, which appeared to have become stuck rather firmly. Eventually, she managed to extract a somewhat wrinkled envelope from underneath it, and was about to toss it in with the rest when her eyes fell on her own name – her real name, as she thought of it, though she had been forced to relinquish it in favour of her husband’s – penned very neatly in Mr Darcy’s own elegant hand.  

She stared at the letter for a good five minutes before she could make up her mind whether she should open it. For all that she had come in here with the express intention to peruse some private correspondence that was never meant for her eyes, this felt like a graver transgression for some reason she could not fully explain, not even to herself. For all that it was unmistakably addressed to her, it had also very clearly been sitting at the bottom of a drawer for the past few months, and she could not surmise Mr Darcy had truly meant for her to read it.  

In the end, it was the uncomfortable suspicion that its contents might relate to her greatest shame that prompted her to tear the seal open, and unfold two sheets of paper covered in her husband’s handwriting which Miss Bingley had once praised at some length. Whatever she had been expecting, it had been nothing like this; by the time she reached his final blessing and flowing signature, she was crying bitter tears of regret for how sorely she had misjudged the way things stood between Mr Darcy and Mr Wickham.  

Her heart ached for her new sister – poor Georgiana, how much she had suffered at the hands of one she had considered a friend her entire life – and swift on its heels, a renewal of her shame at how unpardonable her conduct had been, and with far less inducement than a sweet, innocent fifteen-year-old had been subjected to. Not for the first time since their hasty marriage, she found herself revisiting her memories of that fateful morning, when she had spurned Mr Darcy’s offer of marriage so vehemently, only to immediately succumb to a physical longing so potent she had never known the likes of it before.  

The ungentlemanliness of his conduct back then paled in the face of her own shocking wantonness in allowing him such liberties with her person, against all reason and judgement. When she had been forced to seek him out, later, as the reality of her condition became more and more apparent, she had been tempted to put all the blame on him, only to discover that she could not, in all conscience, allow such deceit to take place. She might despise him and resent the consequences of his actions, but she could not forget how in the madness of the moment she had not only failed to refuse him, but rather fully encouraged his attentions.  

And now Jane and Bingley were about to marry, while she had perhaps ruined her every chance at finding some modicum of happiness in this marriage she had been forced into by circumstances alone. Arms wrapped protectively around her growing midsection, she sank further into her husband’s particular chair, and prayed that there was still time for her to make amends, perhaps even begin anew in the arduous task of carving out a life for themselves, together.  

.

“Do not fret yourself so, Mrs Darcy,” Mrs Reynolds was vainly trying to soothe her, as she had been attempting to do for the better part of the day. “The Master will surely arrive in time for dinner, or at least send word if he finds he’s unable to.” 

Still, dinnertime came and went, with no hide nor hair of her husband to be seen, and nobody the wiser of his whereabouts except that he had sent for his horse as soon as she had declared their argument to be over, and rode out in a temper in no clearly discernible direction. Elizabeth was beside herself with worry by then, and could not be persuaded to take any sustenance, not even for the sake of her child. In the early days of her marriage, she had used to daydream of a world in which Mr Darcy did not exist, and she was still the carefree girl roaming the fields around Longbourn, with no prospect of becoming a wife and a mother anytime soon; but now, she found she could not bear the thought of any harm ever coming to her husband, who had been nothing but unflinchingly kind to her in the face of her barely disguised animosity, and had placed no demands whatsoever on her, save for what little he deemed necessary for the sake of their unborn child.  

She remembered how she had very nearly shouted to his face, before he turned on his heels and stalked out of the room, that he had better pray for this child to be a boy, for she would rather die than let him touch her ever again; how she wished her cutting words unsaid now, as she paced from room to room with a distressed Mrs Reynolds in her wake, who vainly begged her mistress to lie down and get some rest, for it would not do to overexert herself in her condition. As angry as Mr Darcy had undoubtedly been upon leaving the house, it was not like him to disappear in such a thoughtless manner without informing anyone of his staff, his faithful housekeeper most particularly; therefore, Elizabeth could only surmise something must have happened to him, and she knew she would never forgive herself if her earlier outburst had caused him any harm, directly or otherwise.  

When it became clear that there was very little which could be done in the way of locating Mr Darcy considering the lateness of the hour and the unfavourable weather – autumn had brought dense mists all over Derbyshire, and Pemberley in particular – Elizabeth allowed herself to be escorted to her chambers, where she proceeded to cry herself to sleep until the early hours of the morning. By breakfast time, she felt like she could not bear the wait any longer, and was resolved to join the search party that had been scouring the grounds since the break of dawn; she was in the middle of arguing her right as the Mistress of the house to do as she pleased, disregarding each and every one of Mrs Reynold’s perfectly sensible objections to such an imprudent course of action on her part, when the groundskeeper burst in to announce that the Master had been found, badly injured and still unconscious from his fall, with his faithful horse standing guard to him – but that he should live, God willing, and the doctor ought to be sent for posthaste.  

Elizabeth had a fortifying cup of tea pressed into her hands before she was finally allowed into her husband’s chambers just as he was being laid with great care on his bed; she gasped at the sight of the deep gash cutting through his temple and cheek, and though she had never uttered his Christian name before, it came naturally to her lips in a cry of heartfelt concern as she rushed to his side. She would not leave the room even when the doctor came in to examine him, could scarcely breathe until she was reassured that, though his ribs were bruised and his right knee very badly sprained, he was in no immediate danger; though only time would tell what damage his head had sustained in the impact, and for that, they needed to wait until he regained consciousness.  

The doctor then took some pains to impress upon Mrs Darcy that she ought not distress herself overmuch in her condition, and that it was her duty to look after her own health for the child’s sake. Elizabeth thanked him, though she felt no particular inclination to take his advice that she should seek bed rest for herself, and instead took what she now considered her rightful place at her husband’s bedside. As she watched over his recumbent form, unmoving save for the slight rise and fall of his chest with his every breath, she realised she had long stopped hating him – perhaps she had never truly had, not in the way she thought she did up until now.  

It was not until she was about to succumb to her bone-deep exhaustion, despite her better efforts, that she realised the nature of her feelings for him might have undergone such a fundamental change she could not have seen coming when she had found herself in the unwelcome position of having to swallow her pride and beg him to rescue her from complete ruination.  

.

By the time Mr Darcy regained full consciousness, Miss Darcy was on her way to Pemberley, accompanied by Mr Bingley and Miss Bennet. Mr Bennet’s objections to such an arrangement had not been entirely quelled by Mrs Annesley’s assurance that she would be acting as a very strict chaperone to the young couple; Elizabeth, on her part, could not entirely fault her father’s anxiety, as she knew only too well they were founded in the sharp disappointment she herself had caused him with her scandalous conduct, but was only too happy at the prospect of soon being reunited with her beloved sister, as she felt much in need of her comforting presence after the past week’s ordeal.  

As soon as the doctor had ruled out any lasting damage to Mr Darcy’s faculties, she had cast herself at her husband’s mercy, begging him for his forgiveness for everything that had transpired between them since their disastrous confrontation at Rosings, and expressing her sincere wish for a fresh start between them, for the sake of their child at least, if he could not bring himself to consider it for her alone.  

“I am only sorry to have caused you so much distress, Madam,” Mr Darcy shook his head, and winced as it only seemed to sharpen the lingering ache to his temple. “I shall endeavour to do better in the future.” 

Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered those dreadful hours she had spent fearing for his very life, and she squeezed his hand with more vigour than strictly necessary. “No more horses from now on. I forbid it.” 

“That would be hardly practical, as you may very easily surmise,” Mr Darcy sighed. Then, in one of his occasionally ill-timed stabs at humour, he offered with a small, wry smile. “Either way, might I remind you that Pemberley is not, in fact, entailed, and that by the terms of our marriage settlement you and your family will be amply provided for, regardless of whether I am survived by any child of my own?” 

Elizabeth drew back as sharply as if she had been slapped. “How can you speak so!” she cried out indignantly, placing both hands on her midsection as if to seek reassurance of her child’s continued wellbeing. She was immediately rewarded for her trouble with a firm kick to her ribs, and she doubled over as much for the surprise as she did for the pain, causing her husband to throw away his bedcovers in a bid to rush to her aid.  

“I am well,” she said decisively, pushing at his shoulder until he lay back down against the pillows. “Your heir is just as troublesome as you are, that is all.” 

“I feel sure it is a girl,” he promptly shot back, though his manner was far from confrontational. “A little Miss Darcy, with her mother’s liveliness and her sparkling eyes.” 

“Then I shall be sorry for you, Sir,” she told him demurely, for she longed to resume their previous conversation about the matter, though she did not know how to go about it.  

Mr Darcy quickly averted his eyes. “You need not be. I may not be proud of the reckless, ungentlemanlike manner in which I imposed upon you, but you may rest assured that, boy or girl, this child will be loved most fiercely, regardless of the accidents of its conception.” 

“I know,” she nodded, a soft smile touching her lips. “I can tell from the way you look at Georgiana, when you think no one can see you.” 

A pained look crossed her husband’s features, and he ran his fingers through his hair in a somewhat agitated manner. “You would not believe so, if you knew to which extent I failed in my duty to protect my poor, abused sister. And if she were ever to learn the truth about the way I conducted myself with a gentleman’s daughter – it does not even bear thinking.” 

Elizabeth once more took her place at his side, gently reached for his hand and held it between her own. “I do know of it, Fitzwilliam. I found your letter, the one you wrote after – Rosings. I know I should not have, but I’m glad that I did, and I will not have you blame yourself for something that is entirely Mr Wickham’s fault.” 

“He did not – not in the way I did to you,” Mr Darcy felt the need to explain, and she held firm when he made a half-hearted attempt to extract his hand from her grasp. “My sister is still an innocent, and I am a worse cad than Wickham himself for taking such liberties with a woman who had just expressed the true extent of her disdain for me so clearly.”  

“You did nothing I did not allow you to – encouraged, even, in my brazen unmaidenliness. I am not so bitter that I will let you shoulder my own share of the blame, Mr Darcy.” 

Her husband closed his eyes, just for a moment, his fingers threading through hers in the boldest display he had allowed himself in all the months of their marriage. “Elizabeth, I – I will have you know I had never once conducted myself in such a manner before, and though you may not care for my promise, I shall not, ever, with another woman.” 

“I should hope so,” she arched her eyebrow in as haughty a manner as she could contrive, though she found it difficult to sustain the charade in the face of the earnestness in her husband’s gaze. “You may even find, in time, that your bride is not so averse to the renewal of your attentions as she previously considered herself to be.” 

For a moment there, he looked just as startled as when she had first sought him out to inform him of her increasing state; then she saw his eyes darken, and the gaze he turned upon her was so full of unrestrained longing she felt herself grow weak at the knees. “This is very cruel of you, Madam,” he stated, very formally, though the hoarseness of his tone betrayed his manner. “To make such a confession at a time when you know very well nothing may come of it, as I am still injured and you are growing ever larger with my child.” 

“I am not so large yet that my husband should find the prospect of kissing me too unappealing, I hope,” she could not help but tease him; and then she let out a small, undignified squeak as he resolutely tugged her off her chair, and very nearly caused her to topple straight onto his bruised ribs.  

This second kiss – for she was determined that only the first instance of his lips touching hers should count, though he had kept his mouth on her for the duration – came as much less of a surprise than their first, yet was considerably more pleasurable an experience for all parties involved. And if the young Darcy decided to make her presence known by wedging an elbow in such a manner as to cause maximum discomfort to both of her parents, it was quickly forgiven, her bad manners rewarded with her own share of her father’s kisses placed with diligent care on her mother’s stomach.  

#Pride and Prejudice #Pride and Prejudice (2005) #Elizabeth Bennet #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth/Darcy #alternate universe #canon divergence #unplanned pregnancy #historical inaccuracies #I don't even know #I wrote a thing #A Momentary Lapse of Reason (series)

[weemssapphic]

in my head (series)

Chapter Five: Distracted

Larissa Weems x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

words: ~3.4k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: brief mention of alcohol

chapter summary: After the events of chapter four, perhaps a little change in relationship dynamic is in order - plus, it's time to enjoy a little more one-on-one time before the weekend draws to a close.

The first thing on your mind the following morning was Rissa - Larissa. You could hardly believe anyone could treat her that way, but then again you’d had enough negative experiences yourself that you felt you should hardly be surprised. Still, you felt bad for leaving her alone the previous night - that was the reason you decided to do something special for her today.

Two hours later, you were standing in front of Larissa’s office, freshly showered, a large hot chocolate from the Weathervane in hand. You knocked on the door.

There was a clicking of heels coming closer and closer, and then the door swung open. Larissa’s smile upon seeing you was accompanied by a light, barely there blush on the apples of her cheeks. “Hi,” she breathed.

You stuck out the hand holding the to-go cup. “I got you something.”

Larissa cocked her head to the side and gently wrapped her hand around the cup, her fingers brushing against yours. You tried to ignore the warmth this ignited within you and, instead, watched as Larissa brought the cup to her lips, tilting her head back slightly to take a sip.

A low hum vibrated in her chest and her eyes fluttered shut. 

“I, uh, remembered you ordered one last week when I saw you at the Weathervane.”

Larissa opened her eyes, her gaze piercing yours with an intensity that had your stomach doing backflips. She lowered the cup from her lips, a faint red lipstick mark visible on the rim. 

“That’s right. The Weathervane makes the best hot chocolate, I always try to get one when I’m in town.” Warmth flooded her gaze. “Thank you,” she added. “Would you like to come in?”

You nodded and Larissa stepped aside, allowing you to enter her office. You made yourself right at home on the sofa in front of the fireplace and Larissa followed, taking a seat beside you as she sipped the drink.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay last night,” you started after a few moments of silence. “I felt bad leaving you, but I know it was one of our rules so-”

“Please,” Larissa waved away your apology. “You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. Consider it a momentary lapse in judgment, too tired to think straight.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to think straight when I’m around anyway.” You smirked at the soft groan that your remark was rewarded with. “I just wanted to check if you’re okay,” you added, much quieter now.

Larissa didn’t answer right away, seeming to consider your words. “I’m alright,” she replied slowly. “I didn’t realize the memories that came up were still bothering me, but I suppose they were. It’s nothing I can’t handle though.”

“I think we should talk about it if we’re going to… you know, have sex again…” You could feel a nervous heat creep up your cheeks.

“I suppose we should.” Larissa took another sip of her hot chocolate before setting the cup down on the floor and turning to fully face you. She sighed and you placed a reassuring hand on her knee. Looking down at your hand, she smiled gratefully and covered it with her own before taking a deep breath.

“When I was much younger, I met a girl through some mutual friends. She knew I was a shapeshifter and it didn’t seem to bother her. When we eventually… slept together, she asked me to shift into her ex-girlfriend. I was so shocked and so desperate to be loved that I, regrettably, did what she asked. After that night, she began to avoid me, and we were never intimate again - though I suppose it was for the better.”

“You really dodged a bullet there,” you said through clenched teeth, seething at the mere thought of someone asking Larissa to be anyone but herself.

Larissa chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze. “Yes, you’re right. Then there was a woman in college - I was more open about my abilities back then. We dated for a while and at first, everything seemed fine. But she would increasingly ask me to change little things about myself, under the guise of curiosity - my hair color, my height, my eyes. Until one day I confronted her and she admitted she wasn’t attracted to me at all.”

You snorted and Larissa raised an eyebrow. “Sorry,” you covered your mouth. “You’re just so beautiful, I can’t understand that.”

Her lips curved up into a shy smile. “Thank you, darling,” she murmured. “I stopped telling potential partners after that.”

“I don’t blame you,” you said softly. “What about us? Do you still want to…?” You bit your lip, your heart beginning to pound as you waited for her to reply.

She scooted closer to you, bringing your hand up to her lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I do,” she purred seductively. “I feel safe with you.” She paused. “I just… I might need a little time.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Perhaps… allow me to take charge and… initiate, for a while.” Larissa’s eyes flicked between your own. “Would that be alright?” 

“Of course, Rissa.” You didn’t miss the dilation of her pupils at your use of the nickname, though you chose to ignore it and allow Larissa to take the lead. “You know, my last ex broke up with me because of my abilities.”

Larissa cocked her head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“In hindsight, maybe it was a bad idea to get together with a normie. At first she thought it was cool, you know? Like a party trick or something. She would make a game out of it and ask me what random people were thinking. And I was so head over heels for her you know? So I did it. But then it became, uh, a bit of a sore subject. Either she was scared I would read her mind - which I didn’t, by the way - or then sometimes she would almost get pissed that I wasn’t reading her mind, as if I of all people should know all her thoughts, you know?”

Larissa was nodding sympathetically, her brows furrowed as she took in the details of your story.

“So then eventually we got into a huge fight and she broke up with me. I guess it was just too much for her.” You shrugged, not wanting to seem affected by the whole ordeal even though you had to admit it still stung, even almost a year later.

“I think it’s hard when people don’t understand you,” Larissa said slowly.

“Tell me about it.” You laughed, causing the blonde to giggle along with you.

A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you, like a warm blanket. Your fingers were still intertwined and you ran your thumb absentmindedly along the back of her hand. 

The silence was interrupted by a ringing phone on Larissa’s desk.

“Just a moment, darling,” she said, pulling her hand out of yours and standing to cross the office and answer her phone.

“Larissa Weems. … Yes… of course. Send her my way. … Thank you for letting me know. … You as well. Goodbye.”

Larissa hung up with an exasperated sigh and strode back to the sofa.

“I’m afraid I have to cut this short. It appears Miss Addams has gotten into another altercation with some of the normie students in town.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and screwed her eyes shut in frustration.

You laughed, standing to leave. “That girl is certainly something. Was her mother like this as well?”

“Not nearly as troublesome, but just as able to get under my skin,” Larissa replied dryly, walking you to the door.

“Don’t let her get to you, Riss. I’m sure she’ll settle soon enough - she has Enid, that girl’s a good influence.”

“I hope you’re right.” Larissa reached her arm past you to open the door, her hand hesitating on the doorknob, effectively trapping you against the oak. “Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?”

The close proximity of her body was dizzying, her body heat radiating off of her in waves and igniting a fire in your core. It took every ounce of strength you could muster not to reach out and touch her, to pull her close and ask her to ravish you right here against the door.

You swallowed hard. “I would love to.” 

Her gaze flicked to your lips for a moment, registering the way your breath was coming out in short puffs, and she smiled, pressing herself flush against you for just a moment, before turning the doorknob and pulling away, allowing you to exit her office.

“I’ll text you the details,” she murmured breathlessly.

You nodded, dazed, and turned to walk down the hallway, unable to hide your smirk at the raven-haired girl who was coming towards you on her way to the principal’s office. She looked positively murderous - not that she usually looked any different - but still you hoped she would go easy on Larissa today.

~~~

Larissa had texted you at some point during the afternoon to meet her at the school’s entrance at 7, giving you plenty of time to fret over what to wear. Knowing Larissa would likely be dressed to the nines no matter where you went, you finally settled on a pair of dress slacks and a black satin blouse. When you stepped out of the building just before 7, she was already waiting for you, sitting behind the steering wheel of her own personal car, typing away on her phone.

She lifted her head when you opened the door, smiling widely as you slid into the passenger seat.

“Shit, you have a nice car,” you breathed out, taking in the interior of the deep blue Rolls Royce.

“Language,” Larissa muttered, but her smile never left her face. “I didn’t think taking the Nevermore van would be all that lowkey, would it?”

“As if this is any more lowkey.” You laughed, enjoying the flash of playful irritation that crossed Larissa’s face.

The car drove smoothly even along the bumpy roads, and you took to watching Larissa as she drove, humming lightly along to the radio as the local station played 80s hit after 80s hit. You couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face as you regarded her, her lips moving silently along to the lyrics of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun”. The last rays of the setting sun cast a golden glow across her face, illuminating her like a literal goddess.

“You’re staring,” Larissa remarked rather smugly. You ducked your head, feeling a heat rise in your cheeks, and turned to look out the window instead.

“I never said it bothered me,” came Larissa’s voice from your left, and when you chanced another glance in her direction, you could see she was watching you out of the corner of her eye, a shy smile gracing her lips.

“Do I have the privilege of knowing where we’re going?” you said eventually.

“I had a craving for Italian food,” she replied. “I hope you don’t mind, I realize how presumptuous that was of me…”

“Not at all.” You smiled, catching her eye.

~~~

Arriving at the restaurant, you followed Larissa inside, catching a full look at her outfit for the first time that evening. She wore a high-cut silk blouse in a stunning shade of dark blue, paired with a long, cream colored pencil skirt and a matching blazer. A pair of kitten heels completed the look, click-clacking on the pavement as she all but strutted her way to the doors. She looked just as good fully clothed as she did naked and you gulped at the realization, tearing your eyes away and attempting to focus on the hostess who was seating you.

You were seated in a booth at the back, away from most of the loud chatter of other restaurant-goers. The hostess handed you two menus and disappeared, to be replaced shortly thereafter by a server who took your drink order - a shared bottle of the house red. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle and poured the wine into your glasses, before excusing himself to give you a chance to look at the menu.

A companionable silence had fallen over the table. Larissa was busy perusing the menu, while you were busy staring at her - again. You realized, quite suddenly in fact, that this was certainly very date-like of you: sitting here across from each other in beautiful clothes, sharing a bottle of wine. But then again, Larissa always wore beautiful clothes. And this wasn’t the first time you’d shared a bottle of wine, not by a long shot. It was simply the first time you’d done so in public.

You shook your head lightly, trying to ignore the warm, tingly feeling that was quickly taking over your extremities, dropping your gaze to the menu but unable to really focus on any of the printed words.

Get it together, you scolded yourself. Going to a restaurant with a friend is not unusual.

Well, not if you only felt super platonic feelings for that friend. What you felt for Larissa, that you weren’t so sure of anymore.

A looming shadow above you alerted you to your server’s presence. Shit. You hadn’t really looked at the menu at all.

Larissa spoke first, but the ringing in your ears from your own internal panic was so loud that you missed what she’d ordered. A curious look from the blonde across from you alerted you to the fact that it must be your turn to order.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” you choked out, cheeks turning pink.

“Certainly,” the server remarked, snapping his little notepad shut and bustling off, leaving the two of you alone.

“Are you alright?” Larissa asked, cocking her head to the side in concern.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly. “I got distracted.”

“Am I that distracting, my dear?” she purred. You coughed at the seductive lilt to her voice, a heavy throb beginning between your legs.

Larissa leaned back, regarding you curiously as you took a sip of your wine and ducked your head to cover the worst of your blush.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she murmured with a chuckle, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Not funny,” you replied, unable to stop your face from breaking out into a grin moments later. “So what did we order?”

“Weren’t you listening?” You shook your head and Larissa giggled. “You’ll see.” She smirked at the little scowl you forced your face into.

You spent the next minutes being teased relentlessly by Larissa and trying to gain control of the heat that was spreading throughout your body under her smoldering gaze. You would never willingly admit to it, of course, but you loved every second of it.

You were grateful when your server arrived with the food - it turned out that you (well, Larissa) had ordered some house-made pasta with lobster. You turned to thank the server and saw his gaze briefly sweep Larissa’s form. Curious and unable (or rather, unwilling) to control yourself, you reached out with your mind, tuning into his thoughts - and immediately wished you hadn’t when you were bombarded with sinful thoughts about your dinner companion, all hidden behind his professional smile.

“Enjoy your meal, ladies,” he commented, his words directed more at Larissa than at you, and you had to force back a biting snarl, settling instead for a muttered and decidedly bitter “thank you”.

You could feel Larissa’s gaze upon you as you glared sullenly into your food.

“Something the matter?” Larissa’s voice was so soft you nearly melted on the spot.

“The waiter thinks you’re hot,” you spat out. You glanced up just in time to see Larissa’s cheeks turn pink.

“You didn’t read his mind, did you?” she asked, her voice low so only you could hear her.

“I had to,” you whispered back defensively. “With the way he was looking at you… and I was right, his thoughts were entirely inappropriate.”

“Why are you so upset about it?” Larissa tilted her head, her eyes searching every inch of your face.

“I’m not upset.” You stabbed at a piece of lobster a little more viciously than strictly necessary, earning yourself a small smile from the blonde. “I just don’t think anyone should be objectifying you like that…”

“Have you never had sinful thoughts about me?” Larissa teased, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hand.

“No! Well, yes… that’s different,” you hissed. “We’re sleeping together. And I don’t view you as some fucktoy.” 

“Y/N!” Larissa scoffed, though her gaze quickly softened. “There’s a reason I’m sleeping with you and not someone like him.”

You were sure you were rapidly turning scarlet by now. “I’m just saying… You deserve more respect than that, is all.” You didn’t need to mention the way your stomach churned at the thought of someone else putting their grimy hands on Larissa.

Larissa, who watched you warmly, lips curved up in a soft smile. “Thank you for looking out for me. You’ve been a great friend to me these last few days.” 

Your heart clenched. Friend. Of course Larissa would say that. Because that’s what you were. You forced a smile onto your face. “Yeah, no problem,” you murmured.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you - with the Rave’n being only two weeks away, Ms. Thornhill has been suggesting she might like some help with the planning. Would you be interested in assisting her?” Larissa asked, taking a sip of her wine.

“Of course, I’d love to.” You considered for a moment. “Did she say what she needed help with?”

“Well the theme has been set for quite some time, so mostly some last minute, finishing touches I’m sure, as well as the decorating before the dance. But I’m sure she could tell you more in person. I’ll let her know you’re on board then?”

“Yeah, sure.” In the brief moment of silence that followed, a thought dawned on you that you couldn’t shake. “Are you going to be there?”

Larissa chuckled. “Of course, I chaperone every year. We are still looking for chaperones, by the way. I know you said no at the beginning of the year, but…” Larissa trailed off, quirking an eyebrow.

You’d said no at the beginning of the year, that was true - you hadn’t really enjoyed your own Rave’n back in the day, as you’d been in the middle of a bad breakup, and you weren’t much into dances or parties anyway. But you’d also never had an ulterior motive to go - such as a gorgeous, 6’3” blonde who would likely be wearing a stunning dress. You cleared your throat.

“Sure, I’ll chaperone.”

Larissa’s face broke out into a pleased smile, one that was so infectious it made you dizzy.

The rest of the evening passed with small-talk about your plans for the next week as the two of you finished your dinner. Despite your complaints, Larissa insisted on paying the bill, citing payback for the massages as her reasoning. The server made himself scarce when he noticed you glaring daggers at him, much to Larissa’s amusement.

You drove back to the Academy in silence, simply content to bask in each other’s presence. Larissa walked you back to your quarters and you stalled in front of your door, trying to fight against the inevitable - bidding Larissa goodnight.

“Thank you for accompanying me tonight,” Larissa said in a whisper, not wanting to take the chance of another teacher coming out of their quarters and overhearing the two of you. “It was much more fun than eating alone, I will admit. And you may have saved me from having to turn down advances from that poor waiter.” She smirked slightly.

You ducked your head. “I enjoyed myself, too. Thanks again.” You paused, searching Larissa’s face. She looked so beautiful in the dim torchlight illuminating the hallway, eyes sparkling lightly, skin nearly glowing. Her lips looked even more red and plush than usual. You wished she would want to come into your quarters, to ravish you until you were screaming her name for the entire staff to hear.

Larissa seemed to be able to read your mind for she smiled hesitantly and whispered, “Not tonight, darling.” She paused, glancing around to see if you were truly alone, then leaned in and pressed a chaste, barely-there kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Rissa,” you whispered back, your skin tingling where her lips had been seconds prior.

Larissa turned and strode down the hallway and out of sight, leaving you to stand like an idiot in the doorway to your quarters, heart pounding and panties damp.

x

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems #in my head #in my head series #larissa x reader

[jjongscardigan]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK₊ ⊹⟡ — s.jaeyun

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE: angst

CW: mentions of alcohol, vomiting, toxicity

NOTE: I don't know why but I love angst. Like when there's heartbreak and loss?! Give it to meeee! Don't know when I'll be able to actually finish the rest of the series. 😔 The creative juices encountered a drought.

SYNOPSIS:

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad. It's always one step forward and three steps back. Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand...

___________________________________________

As you sit amidst the vibrant atmosphere of the party, the uneasy churning in your stomach grows increasingly insistent, like a foreboding whisper warning of impending doom. Despite the lively chatter and pulsating music surrounding you, a sense of isolation creeps in, exacerbated by Jake's blatant disregard for your presence.

You watch as Jake leans in closer to the girl beside him, their laughter mingling effortlessly with the cacophony of voices around you. A pang of jealousy twists in your chest, but you push it aside, hoping for a moment of connection with your boyfriend amidst the sea of faces.

Summoning your courage, you tentatively reach out to Jake, your voice a fragile thread barely audible above the din. But instead of the reassurance you seek, you're met with a sharp glare and a disdainful response. Jake's irritation is like a slap in the face, a painful reminder of your dwindling importance in his life.

As you reel from his callous reaction, the nausea you've been battling intensifies, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. With a desperate gasp, you excuse yourself, barely managing to navigate through the throngs of partygoers before your stomach rebels violently.

The bathroom becomes your sanctuary, the harsh fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows as you hunch over the toilet, retching and heaving until your body is wracked with exhaustion. Each wave of nausea feels like a punishment, a cruel reminder of your vulnerability in the face of Jake's indifference.

But just as you begin to despair, a glimmer of hope emerges in the form of Gaeul and Yizhuo, two guardian angels amidst the chaos. Their cool fingertips brush against your clammy skin, offering comfort and solace in your darkest hour. With gentle hands and soothing words, they guide you through the storm, their unwavering support a beacon of light in the darkness.

As you sip the water offered to you, you can't help but marvel at the stark contrast between their kindness and Jake's cruelty. His absence in your time of need speaks volumes, a painful reminder of the fissures in your relationship that can no longer be ignored.

As the waves of nausea gradually subside and you find yourself cradled in the comforting embrace of Gaeul and Yizhuo, a sense of resignation settles over you like a heavy blanket. Despite Jake's callous behavior and the undeniable toxicity of your relationship, a part of you remains tethered to him, bound by a twisted web of familiarity and misplaced loyalty.

As you lean into the warmth of their support, a familiar voice echoes in the recesses of your mind, whispering words of doubt and insecurity. You remember the countless times Jake has brushed off your concerns, his dismissive attitude leaving you questioning your own worth. But beneath the layers of pain and self-doubt lies a deep-seated fear of being alone, a fear that keeps you tethered to him despite the toxicity of your connection.

With a heavy heart, you push aside the nagging voice of reason and cling to the illusion of stability that Jake provides. You convince yourself that his outbursts are just momentary lapses in judgment, that beneath his rough exterior lies a heart capable of love and redemption. It's a dangerous delusion, one that threatens to consume you whole if left unchecked.

As the party rages on around you, you find yourself drifting back to Jake's side, drawn like a moth to a flame despite the searing pain it promises. You ignore the lingering glances of concern from Gaeul and Yizhuo, choosing instead to bury your doubts beneath a facade of false contentment.

___________________________________________

perma taglist: @haechansbbg @luvnicho @kim2005bomi @n1k1mura @eclipse-777 @kgyam4

MY WORK!!

© jjongscardigan 2024 - do not copy, translate, or plagiarize my work on other platforms!

#sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #jake x reader #enhypen jake #enha jake #enha x reader #enhypen #kpop #kpop moots #sour - enhypen

[drarryspecificrecs]

2023.05 ~ Top 7 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Demons Run (When A Good Man Goes To War) by @shewhomustnotbenamed [E, 124k]

►I need your help. Ordinarily, I wouldn't inveigle anyone into deciphering life from my contorted perspective, but I desperately need you to understand the entirety of the situation that I've found myself in. It's vital that you comprehend and embrace the events that have led me here- to have the clarity of mind that I lack because I am more lost than I have ever been, and I need saving. I need you to see. I need perspicuity. Help me, because I don't know how I got here, and I need to repair the damage I've done.

2. Symptom of Your Touch by @ghostofnoir [E, 115k]

►St. Mungo's Healer Draco Malfoy is used to being pushed to his limits when providing aide to the ailing, but when an unexpected encounter with an out of character Harry Potter throws his life out of balance one night, he is forced to ask himself how far he's willing to push his own levels of discomfort to be of aid to a man in need of help that only he can provide. And once that need for aid is over, how will he find balance in his life again?

3. Love lies somewhere deeper by DarkWizard [M, 96k]

►Harry cheated on his wife with Draco sodding Malfoy. And then, he didn't remember it.

4. we should just kiss (like real people do) by whenstheweddingcake [T, 75k, series]

►Harry's summer is better than ever before, and he returns to Hogwarts for his fifth year with more power, changing relationships, an army at his back, and another DADA teacher that seems to have it out for him.

5. the world is a garden (and you're my flower) by Rosie321go [T, 52k]

►Draco’s mother always said there was a fine line between love and hate. Apparently, his flowers think so too. /// [...] in which Draco doesn’t know how to deal with feelings, Granger doesn’t know how to help him, and Potter’s just trying to figure out what’s going on.

6. Icarus by @soupy-george [M, 50k]

►[...] 2013 (The Unpleasant Present) - Sent undercover as a Professor at Hogwarts. Note: minding my own business, life ruined by dreadful turn of events. Note: Potter is DADA professor, a job he took out of the blue after I graduated from Auror training. His departure happened to coincide with a momentary lapse in judgement when we may have kissed, drunkenly … (and heatedly) against a wall. One time. Awkward? Yes. Reason to abandon whole career? Apparently.

7. Imperius by Jelliebabie [E, 46k]

►What if there was an eighth horcrux? What if Voldemort just wouldn't die? Draco Malfoy doesn't remember what came before his current existence, where he lives to serve the Death Eaters who control his every move, and through him, his magical inheritance. But when a memory from his past appears in his present, breaking the curse that imprisons him, he finds that he may be the one who holds the key to salvation. If only he isn't too broken to use it.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 10k

※ Word count: 10k ~ 40k

the first in line by @oflights [E, 29k]

Harry and Draco's Hogwarts Reunion by DarkPhoenixAscending [E, 13k]

Harry Potter and the Yuletide Potion by Grace_28 [G, 13k]

Just A Couple Of Strays by flowerpotboy [M, 20k]

love-stained hate by a_blur_on_the_highway [T, 18k]

Shades of Passion by CosmicallyFamous [E, 12k]

A Strange Twist of Fate by @shinigami714 [E, 18k]

Turn Back the Clock by @steampunkserpent27 [T, 14k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Basilisks & Staircases - A Game of Drarry Fest | @gameofdrarry

HD Mpreg 2023 | @harrydracompreg

Lights Camera Drarry 2023 | @lcdrarry

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #monthly review #2023

[backpackgoldfish]

Don’t Let Me Go - Part 3

Summary: After the death of her Father, Y/n finds solace in the arms of her father’s best friend... Aaron Hotchner.

Pairing: Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Series warnings: death, murder, smut (I plan to write lots of smut😈) age gap (reader is 18 or older and Aaron is in his 40s I think)

Series masterlist

Sorry for the wait and also sorry for those of you who may looking for some spice at the end of this chapter I didn't realize I was working on the next chapter when I asked, so things will be heating up soon just not in this chapter... technically...

Also I I didn't really edit this cause I forgot about it so please excuse any mistakes

As the sun rises both Aaron and Y/n lie awake, physically separate but mentally in the same place. Neither one has stopped thinking about the kiss all night. The young girl hasn’t stopped touching where his lips were on hers since she entered her room, she never wants to forget the feeling. She knows what she did was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. He just looked so good in the darkness of the night, a darkness they could hide in from the rest of the world. In truth she isn’t sorry for what she did, kissing him felt amazing, and she’d do it again, but she’s sorry for how this might change their relationship. And now she’s scared to face him in the light of the morning.

The older man on the other hand, feels like this is all his fault. He wonders if he led her on in some way, somehow made her believe he was interested in her in anyway but platonically. Aaron tries to convince himself the reason he enjoyed the kiss was not because it was with Y/n but because he hasn’t been kissed in so long. He tells himself if he was in his right mind when it happened it wouldn’t have happened, and maybe it wouldn’t have, but it did. Now he must live with it.

At least he stopped it when he did. Just imagine if he hadn’t come to his senses and let that girl climb into his lap, that would have been so much worse. He wouldn’t have been able to stop then. And you can’t just sweep something like that under the rug, pretend it never happened, or convince yourself it was a momentary lapse in judgment, that you just lost control for a bit, no. no, if that had had happened he would be in a world of trouble and guilt.

As his thoughts wander towards the idea of if he let her climb into his lap, he finds himself wondering if she’d feel as good as he imagines, would he be able to let her go or would he grow addicted. He feels like she would be so easy to get addicted to. Does she taste as good as her lips do? No! Aaron, get ahold of yourself.

The older man decides to get up and get dressed hoping it’ll help clear his mind. But as he stands from the couch, he gets distracted by the sound of someone reaching the bottom of the stairs. He turns and meets Y/n’s gaze. Her eyes widen in slight panic, not fully ready to face him yet. But before she can stop her stop herself her sight drops to his bare chest, his shirt discarded in the middle of the night trying to get more comfortable, blaming heat for his insomnia. But then her eyes drop a little lower… She realizes what she just did at the same time Aaron does, and as a deep blush blooms over her face she abruptly turns and heads to the kitchen.

“Y/n we should talk.” Aaron speaks as he quickly put back on his shirt before following after her. Y/n opens the fridge and starts pulling out things to make breakfast.

“Do we have to?” She doesn’t look at him as she responds, focused on pulling out the eggs and setting them on the counter before closing the fridge door.

“Yes.” She turns and looks up at him, but she doesn’t know what to say. He steps closer to her until he stands right in front of her, she feels so small with him towering over her, and as he looks down it’s like he sees her for the first time. As the beautiful woman she’s become and not just his best friend’s daughter. “Last night…” Aaron starts but trails off as he searches her face for how she’s feeling.

“Please don’t… Please don’t try to profile me.” She whispers. “I’m sorry, Aaron. I didn’t mean to, and it won’t happen, okay?” her voice is shaky, and she fights the tears that want to form in her eyes.

Aaron doesn’t know what comes over him, maybe it’s the same thing that happened to Y/n just a few hours before, but somehow, he finds himself grabbing her face and pressing his lips to hers. Y/n moans quietly into the kiss, her hands fisting at his shirt, trying to get him closer. He presses her back against the edge of the counter making her gasp at the abruptness of the whole thing. Her lips are so soft, and her kisses are so delicate. The make him feel like a different man, they make him forget the harsh reality that is his life, make him forget all the terrible things he sees every day. He thinks maybe this is what he needs now, her sweetness, her light. he’s become so cold he needs her warmth. Their lips move so perfectly against each other.

So wrapped up in one another they almost don’t hear as the two little boys charge down the stairs, but the excited voices alert them of the approaching children. The break away from each other as quickly as they can. Y/n busies herself with the food on the counter while Aaron goes to the coffee maker on the other side of the kitchen.

The boys run to Y/n excited for breakfast, hoping to get her to make waffles and bacon. Both the boys are still in their pajamas just like Y/n and Aaron. And for a moment as Y/n looks at everyone, she pretends this is her life, making breakfast for her family, on her husband’s day off. She imagines they would spend the whole day in pajamas just being together, running around outside and playing games together, then at night they’d watch a movie and when the kids fall asleep her and Aaron would carry them up to bed and tuck them in before retiring to their own room, and maybe they’d try for another baby once they’re alone…

But her daydream breaks when she gets a reminder of reality in the form of her mother entering the kitchen, dressed and ready for the day, presumably to give off the appearance of being put together in the presence of company. Y/n wants to roll her eyes; you don’t have to be perfect every second of the goddamn day. Your husband just died maybe try to act like you care and stop using it as an excuse for attention. The young girl wants to scream at her mother but keeps her thoughts to herself, maintaining the perfect daughter role just like how her mother raised her.

“Morning mom.” Y/n greets with a smile. “Going somewhere?” she does her best to hold back her annoyance as she pulls out a bowl to start the batter. Y/n had agreed to Ben and Jack’s request without even realizing it, to caught up in her own imagination.

“No.” her mother laughs softly. “I always get dressed before coming down for breakfast, remember?” Diane gives her daughter the look again, and this time Y/n knows she can’t ignore it.

“You’re right, I guess I just never noticed, silly me.” The girl gives her best fake smile and her mother does the same back, the tension between the two fills the room with an awkwardness that is hard to ignore, poor Aaron just standing to the side has to listen to the two.

“Oh Aaron, let me do that.” Y/n notices the tone of her mother’s voice and stares at her in utter disbelief.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Y/n nearly crushes the whisk in her hand as she watches her mother put her hand on Aaron’s arm. Thankfully, Aaron steps out of the way as Diane finishes making coffee. But Y/n has to hide her little smirk as Aaron joins her to help make breakfast.

“What can I do?” Aaron asks with a little twinkle in his eye as he looks down at Y/n.

“Um, can you do the bacon?” she asks him so sweetly, with the same twinkle reflecting in her own eyes, he couldn’t say no if he wanted to. He nods as she hands him the picture of meat, their fingers linger for just a second as they touch in passing. She ducks her head as she smiles getting back to making waffles. She touches her lips for just a second, thinking something incredible is starting, while Aaron internally beats himself up and tells himself after today, he won’t see Y/n for a while.

Maybe it’s time to go back to work, he thinks. But as he glances at Y/n, seeing her smile at his son, asking if he wants to help her pour the batter into the waffle maker, he knows work won’t help.

He’s fucked.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #dad's best friend #forbidden relationship #george foyet #george foyet x reader #hotch x reader #jack hotchner #dont let me go #dlmg

[karahalloway]

Devil You Know

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret (Book 1: Season 1)

Pairing: Lucifer x F!OC (Devon Hart)

Series: Oh, So Devilish

Chapter summary: Devon and Lucifer end up in Hell...

Word count: 4,500

Warnings: M (swearing, aggro, blood, toxic behaviour, forced imprisonment, references to death, physical violence... we're really on the Highway to Hell now, folks! 😆)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: As promised, here is the follow-up instalment to Devil May Care, which reworks the start of HS S1E6 (because - again - I was dissatisfied with the way the majority of the interactions went down in canon 😅).

A/N2: As mentioned previously, I will only be tagging those people who specifically asked to be tagged after reading the previous part. So, if you want in on any future instalments featuring this pairing (I am definitely planning more rewrites for this universe!), do let me know in the comments! Otherwise, happy reading! 🤗

Devil You Know

Biting down on my tongue, I scrunch my eyes shut in consternation.

I kissed him… I kissed Lucifer…! 

On the cheek, but still. 

I crossed an unspoken line and thrust our relationship (…for lack of a better word) into a hitherto unconscionable realm of intimacy.

And there’s no way that contrary ass is not going to rub this in my face the first chance he gets.

I swallow a groan. What the hell possessed me to do something like that? I don’t even like the guy…

But I’m not given the chance to come up with any kind of answer, for in the next instant, a strong gust of wind whips through my hair, and I feel my skin come alive with an unmistakable zap of energy as the vortex opens up above us once again.

So much for flying under the radar…

But playing hooky had been worth it. I am now one step closer to solving the puzzle of my death, and finding some much-needed closure… even though my unexpected side-trip ended up raising more questions than it has solved.

Who is Amidi Laurent? Why did he ram me off the road? Was it really an accident, or something more sinister? And — perhaps more importantly — why did Lucifer stick his neck out for me?

I catch the demon’s eye from across the opposite end of the funnel. There is something flickering in the embers of his gaze, but before I have a chance to try and decipher it, he’s jumped into the eye of the storm.

Heaving a resigned breath, I leap after him, fully expecting to have to navigate an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the Academy in the wake of my momentary lapse of judgment.

But, instead of snide comments, or shifty glances, I am greeted by something completely unexpected. Lucifer is up in front of me, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head, coasting the currents as if he were laid out on a sun-soaked beach, rather than hurtling through the planes of the cosmos at break-neck speed. But maybe this is his idea of a vacation. Suspended weightless in a vacuum, floating effortlessly along the periphery of the here and now like a mere after-thought, without any responsibilities or obligations…

I can certainly see how the temporary liminality offered by the vortex could be a welcome escape for someone like him.

That said, I still find this method of travel somewhat unnerving, and the constantly shifting kaleidoscope of colours have a tendency to make me queasy. So, I’m not about to imitate Lucifer’s travel habits.

Luckily, I don’t have to battle with the motion sickness for long, and before I know it, we are both being lowered back onto solid ground.

“Dammit!” 

Lucifer’s outburst startles me with its vehemence.

Glancing around, I quickly spot the reason for his aggravation. As, yet again, we have been diverted…

…this time, to the Gates of Hell.

I whirl on him. “Why are we here?”

Lucifer — once again fully winged and tattooed as a result of having shed the cloak of his human skin — responds to my question by pulverizing a mid-sized boulder with his fist. “Why the fuck do you think, Unclaimed?”

I fold my arms defensively. “If you’re implying that I—"

“Do not try to wriggle out of this,” he snarls, crimson feathers flaring as he rounds on me. “The only reason we are here is because of you.”

“Me?” I gasp in disbelief. “Why the hell would I—?”

“Father found out about our little side-trip,” he grits, the wildfire raging in his gaze on the verge of consuming him completely. “Which means he knows we broke a rule. And he hates being kept waiting.”

I take an involuntary step back. “Wha—?"

“End of the road, angel,” he proclaims, closing the gap between us with a serpentine smile. “It’s judgement hour.”

Before I have a chance to blink, he’s shoved me into the mouth of the gaping chasm that is the Gates.

A petrified scream erupts from my throat as I go plummeting into the dark depths, the stinging smell of the sulphur burning my nose, the sharpness of the rocks grazing my wings.

My wings!

Twisting myself around in the choking blackness — at the expense of a motley of bruises on my knees and elbows — I manage to level myself out in time to spot the rapidly approaching speck of light at the bottom of the crevice. Spreading my wings as much as I can within the confines of the space, I try to convert my freefall into something resembling a controlled descent.

But given that I am still very much a noob when it comes to flying — having not quite gotten the handle on my latest set of wings yet — I end up hitting the ground will all the inherent grace of a sack of potatoes.

“Ow…” I groan, the acrid taste of iron welling in my mouth.

I may now be an immortal, but that doesn’t mean that I am completely invulnerable. The latest itineration in a growing slew of unsuccessful landings being a painful case in point. But, at least I heal relatively quickly… even from a fall that would’ve killed my former human self.

Raising my head to hawk the blood out, I am met by the sinister-looking toe of Lucifer’s boot.

“Welcome to Hell,” he drawls, yanking me up off the ground by the scruff of my leather jacket.

“You’re a real piece of shit,” I gripe, launching a blood-infused glob of spittle at his feet.

He sidesteps it easily. “Pain trains willpower and character. Both of which you lack. Now, get moving.”

I’m shoved unceremoniously forward. “Where are we going?”

“To the Pits.”

His answer hits me like a bucket of cold water. “Wait… You can’t be—”

“Oh, I’m dead fucking serious,” he confirms, grabbing me by the arm to haul me after him.

I struggle against him. “No. Lucifer… Stop!”

But my protests — and desperate kicks to his shins — bounce off him like cotton balls as he drags me down the length of the cavern against my will.

“You are vile…” I spit.

“Actions have consequences, darling,” he deadpans. “Both Upstairs and Downstairs. You just happened to draw the short straw.”

“But why does your dad even care?” I cry, trying to tamp down the naked fear that is roiling in the pit of my guts. Because while I’ve certainly heard of Satan — I mean, who hasn’t? — I never thought I might actually end up meeting the arch-demon who’s been putting the fear of God into people for the better part of four millennia.

Lucifer’s teeth flash in dark. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

We cross the same expansive courtyard that we traversed during my first visit to Hell on our way to the library. Only this time, instead of moving towards the steps that lead up to the subterranean citadel, Lucifer yanks me in the opposite direction towards a smaller, narrower set of stairs that instantly gives me the creeps.

“Ladies first,” he declares, thrusting me forward.

My hands fly out to find purchase on the roughness of the stone walls in a bid stop myself from tripping head-first down the perilous-looking steps. I stare down into the murkiness that is barely being kept at bay by the flicking light of the torches lining the path of the curved stairwell.

“Can’t we just—?"

But my feeble protest falls on deaf ears as Lucifer gives me an uncompromising shove from behind, nearly causing me to twist my ankle as the heel of my boot scrapes over the lip of the first step.

I throw the demon a dirty look as I begin the trudge down into the bowls of this fetid place.

I should never have trusted him… Much less thanked him for anything.

Not only is he a volatile, exploitative dick, but he is also a lying sack of shit. Because why else would he drag me down here against my will, if not to hang me out to dry in a bid to save his own neck? Knowing that he managed to find himself on Daddy's shitlist?

And if that’s true, then the line he tried to foist onto me earlier about this whole thing being my fault is clearly a masterful attempt at Machiavellian manipulation. As why the hell would Satan be interested in me? A literal nobody who only joined the ranks of the immortals a few weeks ago, and has yet to choose a side?

The answer is, he wouldn’t be. Unless his prodigal son somehow manages to convince him that I’m the deviant wildcard.

I scoff derisively as we descend lower. So much for me being a liability…

But if Lucifer wants to play dirty, then I’ll dive right into the mud with him. Because I’m not about to take whatever kind of fall he’s trying to set me up for… I’m not that stupid.

The air becomes staler and mustier the further down we trek. Dampness drips from the walls above our heads, and the feel of the vastness of the earth pressing in around us starts to make my skin crawl, despite the fact that I didn’t think I suffered from claustrophobia. But Hell has a weird way of playing on your anxieties — no matter how latent — and it’s clear that even my new-found immortality cannot shield me completely from the torments of this place.

Clearing the last of the jagged steps, we arrive in what can only be described as a gaol…

…and I’m immediately sick to my stomach all over again.

Long rows of cells line the black passageway that stretches before us. Upon the sound of our arrival, dozens of emaciated arms reach through the rusty-looking metal bars, begging for release as clanks and moans rise up from the depths of the prison, punctuated by the occasional shriek of anguish.

But the stench… The stench permeating every inch of this hellhole is worse than anything I have ever encountered before. Rotting flesh combined with stale urine and putrid sweat boxed up in a dank space that’s never seen the light of day… and never will. All underlain by an abject miasma of despair so thick that you can taste it on your tongue — the reek of eternal damnation.

I clamp my hands over my nose and mouth in an attempt to stop myself from throwing up. “What is this place?”

“A holding area,” Lucifer replies nonchalantly, grabbing my arm again to pull me after him, seemingly obviously to the toe-curling wretchedness spread around him. “Where the damned await their eternal punishment.”

“Jesus Christ…” I breathe, stumbling after the demon as the full implication of his words filters through me.

This isn’t even Hell… the real Hell with its nine circles of fire and brimstone. This is merely a waiting room. But even it is soul crushing enough to make you want to abandon all semblance of hope. 

I shudder involuntarily. God knows what the rest of the place is like…

“That name means nothing down here,” Lucifer grunts, as if reading my thoughts. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“How much further…?” I manage to choke out as I cringe closer to his side on instinct, trying to dodge the grasping reach of the skeletal hands.

“We’re here.”

“Huh?”

I face-plant into Lucifer’s shoulder as he comes to an abrupt stop.

“What th—?”

“Get in,” he orders, wrenching the door of an empty cell open.

I recoil in horror. “No way.”

His jaw tenses. “This isn’t a negotiation.”

“Damn right, it isn’t!” I retort. “Because you’re not locking me up in here!”

“I don’t fucking have time for this, Devon,” he grits, pulling me forward. “Just take the damn hint and—“

“Like hell…” I grate, fighting him.

His red eyes flare in the murk. “Poor choice of words.”

He wrenches me violently forward, nearly ripping my shoulder from its socket in the process. I sail past him and into the cell, the edges of my wings clipping the metal bars on my way through. And by the time I manage to find my footing, he’s shut the door on me with a decisive clang.

“You’re a sadistic bastard…” I spit through the bars as he secures the convoluted-looking lock.

“And you’re a fiendish pain in the ass,” he hits back, scorching me with his gaze. “So, be a good girl for once and—“

I slap him — hard — my eyes blazing with fury. “Fuck you.”

He stills, the sharp sound of flesh-on-flesh rendering him motionless… like a bull that’s caught sight of the red flag.

I stare at him, chest heaving, the unspoken tension roiling between us.

He licks his lips. “You got teeth, angel… I’ll give you that.”

“Bite me,” I snarl, meeting the conflagration raging in his eyes with own wall of hellfire. Because I’m not letting him get away with this.

He leans in close, his mouth almost brushing mine through the bars. “Make it a wish and I will…”

I scoff at him. “In your dreams, demon.”

Something flashes in his gaze. “Immortals don’t dream, darling.”

He begins to turn away…

…and my stomach drops as I suddenly realise that maybe this isn’t some kind of twisted game.

I grab for his arm. “Lucifer! Wai— Argh!”

“Careful with the bars, Unclaimed…” he throws flippantly over his shoulder as he strides off. “You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

“Lucifer!” I gasp, hand pressed against my side where a metal barb had dug against me. “Stop! Come back! This isn’t funny!”

But he’s already gone, swallowed up by the darkness.

“Lucifer!” I shriek, all vestiges of my former bravado vanishing in a puff of smoke as real terror splices through me. “LUCIFER! Don’t you dare leave me here!”

Silence. Except for the wails of the damned.

A choked sob escapes me. “Please don’t leave me here…”

But my cowed plea receives no answer. No crooked smile flashes in the shadows, no crimson feathers rustle in the depths to give any indication that this is all just some kind of sinister prank, and the joke’s on me for falling for it.

I swallow against the panic that’s threatening to choke me. He left me… The bastard really left me…

Which means that I’m on my own.

And as petrified as I am, I flat out refuse to spend the rest of my newly-immortal life trapped in this hole. I wasn’t given a second chance at existence by God… Sepha… whoever decides these things… just to end up as another nameless, faceless soul that got press-ganged into Satan’s receiving line.

Wiping the wetness from my face, I step up to the cell doors with renewed determination.

There must be a way to pick that lock.

Reaching carefully through the bars, I try to feel out the mechanism. But given that I cannot push my head through the gaps of the barbed metal, or contort myself in such a way to be able to see what I’m supposed to be working with without shredding myself to pieces, I quickly realise that I need a different angle of attack.

Stepping back slightly, I focus everything that I have inside of myself, trying to dredge up something that can help me. But if I have any as-yet undiscovered magical ability, I cannot find it. No spark… no buzz… nothing. Just an empty void staring back at me.

Shit…

I throw my hands out sharply, hoping that if I’m feeling desperate enough, a wave of energy will miraculously shoot from my fingertips to blast the door off its hinges…

…but I have no such luck.

I reel away from the bars with gritted teeth. I will not rot here… I will not!

Casting my eyes around the confines of the cell in search of anything that I can use to jimmy the lock with — a sharp stone, a scrap of metal, even the forgotten fibula of a previous occupant — I spot what looks like a break in the bars.

Stepping towards it, I realise that the end of one of the rungs had rusted away, disconnecting it from its neighbour. Which means it may be possible to snap it off completely.

I have no idea how an immortal’s strength measures up in comparison to an average human’s, but I’ve heard that people finding themselves in life-or-death situations are capable of almost miraculous feats of strength and bravery. So, maybe true grit can save me where magic ended up falling short.

In any event, I’ve got to try.

It’s not like anyone is coming to save me — as even if Mimi, Dino, or anyone else were to raise the alarm at my unexplained absence, there is no guarantee that (a) any of the instructors actually care enough about me to launch a search, and (b) they would find me anyway. Hell is a vast place, and no one would have a reason to look for me down here to begin with. They’d probably just assume that I’m still playing hooky back on Earth. And given that he’s the one who ditched me here, Lucifer will be the last person to point them in my direction.

Which makes me doubly determined to break out of here. Even if just for the fleeting satisfaction of getting to spit in that smug demon’s face. 

Grasping the aging piece of metal, careful to avoid the spikes protruding from it, I give it a couple of experimental tugs. It holds strong, but I managed to bend it towards me somewhat.

Feeling a rush of hope well in my chest, I plant a foot on one of the lower bars to give myself some added leverage…

…and nearly jump out of my skin when the darkness next to me moves.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a sunken, leathery face appear beside mine, its features grotesque in its distortions... its skin reeking of death.

"Hello, doll..."

A hysterical scream erupts from my mouth.

I heave myself backwards without any rational thought, trying to get away from whatever the hell this thing is, even if it’s stuck on the other side of the cell. 

But the ghoul is faster. Its four-fingered hand shoots through the gap in the bars, clamping onto my wrist like the fangs of a serpent.

“You’re fresh…” it observes gleefully, pulling back its bloodless lips to reveal a row of shark-like teeth.

I struggle against it viciously. “Let me go, you freak!”

It yanks me against the bars with a snarl.

Thrown off balance, I crash against the rusty metal, the protruding barbs ripping into my face and chest.

The sharpness of the pain brings fresh tears to my eyes. But some deeper instinct tells me not to show fear, not to show weakness. So, with supreme effort, I force myself to tamp down the terrified whimper that’s clawing at the tip of my tongue.

Lidless eyes glint at me mordantly through the slits in the bars. “Not nice…”

It tightens its grip, and I gasp as a sudden chill shoots up my veins to slice into my heart like a dagger.

“Mmm…” the creature purrs, darting its blackened tongue out to lick its lips. “Sweet…”

A million shards of ice explode across my chest as I feel the warmth get sucked from my bones like juice through a straw... my life-force along with it.

Knowing in the back of my mind that I don’t have much time before this thing renders me into a slobbering, vegetative mess, I gather up what’s left of my rapidly ebbing strength to plant both of my feet against the foot of the bars…

…and yank myself from backwards with a primal cry.

The ghoul shrieks in rage as my wrist snaps free of its clammy hold, sending me flying backwards to land in a shivering heap on the floor of the cell.

Wrapping my arms and wings around myself in a bid to stop my chattering teeth from biting into my tongue, I try to stoke up what residual heat is left in my body in the wake of whatever it is that that thing tried to do to me.

Suck my soul dry, by the feel of it…

I have no idea how long I lie there, curled up like a gutted fish on the grimy stones, but eventually I feel some semblance of warmth return to my chilled extremities as my heart begins to beat with vigour again.

Rolling gingerly onto my side, every inch of me aching, I find the ghoul glaring at me with undisguised hatred from the other side of the bars.

“Nasty doll…” it spits, pacing back and forth, like a beast trapped in a cage. “Doesn’t want to play…”

“No shit,” I retort, pushing myself back onto slightly wobbly feet. “I’m not your fucking toy!”

Why every immortal insists on slapping me with patronising labels, I have no clue. But it’s really starting to grate on my nerves!

The ghoul comes to an abrupt halt and cocks its head to an unnatural angle. “Fierce.”

I force myself to meet its gaze, even as I feel a shudder run down my spine at the sight of the soulless void I find staring back at me. “I like to beat expectations…”

The ghoul’s mouth draws back into a horrible grin. “You cannot beat Him…”

I frown. “You mean Lucifer?”

A strangled wheeze claws itself out of the brute’s throat, and it takes me a second to realise that it’s laughing. “Stupid doll… The Son of Satan is a mere worm! No match for Him!”

“Must be doing something right if he managed to lock you up in here…” I counter dryly.

I must’ve struck a nerve because the ghoul’s humour vanishes with a hiss. “This cell is fleeting! He freed one… He will free more! He will free me!”

My eyes widen in sudden realisation. “He… You mean—?"

“Mal…bon…te…!” the ghoul cackles.

I suck in a breath. He does exist! Which means— 

“And Zizga will wait,” the creature continues, running its tongue over its teeth with zealous conviction. “Because I know your taste now, doll… And you cannot—“

Bang!

Metal crashes against metal as the door of the cell flies open behind me.

Whirling around, I find Lucifer standing in the gap between the bars, head bowed and knuckles fisted around the rungs on either side of him.

“Crawl back into your fucking hole, Zizga,” he orders, lobbing a wad of spit onto the floor.

Zizga hisses at him like a defiant cobra. “Your pitiful threats mean nothing, Son of Satan! You will be first to—“

“Last warning,” growls Lucifer, raising his head to torch the ghoul with a baleful glare.

It is then that I notice the state of the demon’s face…the blackened eye… the bruised jaw… the blood matting his shirt. “Oh, my God! What happened to you?”

Lucifer’s humourless scoff turns into a hack as he pushes himself away from the doorway. “Just another meeting… with the old… Reaper.”

My eyes widen in disbelief. “Satan… He did this to you?”

“He doesn’t like… to be kept waiting…” he grits, clutching his side as he stumbles into the cell.  

“Jesus…” I rasp, taking in the full, macabre sight of the Devil’s handiwork.

“…doesn’t give a shit,” Lucifer spits through broken lips. “And neither should—“

His knees buckle.

I dive forward on instinct to catch him. “Luci—!”

But no sooner does my hand brush his shoulder than I find myself shoved up against the bars of the cell, with his fist crushing my windpipe.

“Save your damn sympathy, Unclaimed!” Lucifer snaps, hellish eyes blazing. “I don’t fucking need it!”

I struggle for breath as the barbs bite into my wings. “I was just—“

“This is all your fault,” he growls through bared and blood-stained teeth. “You and your pathetic need for answers… About a death that was just as meaningless as your life.”

“You… wouldn’t… understand…” I choke out bitterly, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“No,” he grits, face inches from mine. “I wouldn’t. Because I know the rules. Yet here I am taking the fucking fall for you anyway.”

I gasp as he tightens his hold on my neck. “I never… asked you to…”

“No…” he agrees, his gaze scorching contemptuously over me. “So, don’t expect me to make this mistake again.”

“I won’t,” I tell him tightly, feeling a lone tear escape to skid down my cheek.

I’m such an idiot… For ever thinking that—

His eyes suddenly narrow. “The hell is that?”

“Nothing…” I sniff, turning my head to hide the embarrassing crack in my composure.

His hand shoots up to grab the underside of my jaw, forcing me to look back the other way.

I grit my teeth, but he ignores my discomfort, the heat of his gaze raking over me like a laser, taking in every cut and scrape decorating my face, before sliding down the side of my neck to rest of the exposed part of my chest above my ruined top.

“You can’t be left alone for five minutes, can you?” he derides… though I feel his hold on me loosen slightly.

I scoff vindictively. “Says the asshole who locked me in a cell.”

He snaps my head back to face him again. “I told you to keep away from the bars.”

“Maybe I was looking for a shank to stick you with,” I snip up at him.

“Liar,” he indicts, his hot breath coasting my lips as his nails dig against my skin once more. “Who did this?”

I stare back at him scornfully. “Like you even care.”

“I’ll wring it from you, angel…” he warns. “One way or another.”

“You’re such an ass…” I gripe…

…but my gaze shifts to the left nevertheless.

Lucifer’s nostrils flare with rancour as he whirls away from me. “You like the bite of steel, do you, Zizga?”

The ghoul screeches in strife. “No! Do not listen to it! She is nasty and full of lies!”

Lucifer crosses the open space in two strides to grab the disgusting creature by the front of his tattered robe, and wrenches him against the bars. “Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

The ghoul twists and spits like a viscous barn cat, trying to free himself. “Malbonte will clip your wings, puny Son of Satan! He’ll—“

“Eat shit and choke, leech,” Lucifer snaps, shoving Zizga roughly away. “And don’t threaten me with fairytales.”

The ghoul cracks out a laugh as it stumbles backwards. “Your world will burn, demon! Ashes and dust! You’ll see!”

Lucifer lunges at the bars again, but the creature scuttles off into the shadows with a raspy cackle.

I straighten back up, rubbing my neck. “What is that thing?”

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Lucifer glowers without turning around.

“I—“

“Get out!”

I jolt at the naked fury in his voice. But I don’t need telling twice.

Spinning on my heel, I dash out of that nightmarish cell, and down the dank hall, all the way back to the stairwell, as if the very Hounds of Hell were chasing me. 

But instead of relief, it is a quagmire of confusion that suffuses my guts.

What the hell just happened?

Tags

@angelasscribbles @aussiegurl1234 @kingliam2019 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @hotkingu @0shewrites0 @tessa-liam

#devil you know #lucifer #devon hart #lucifer x oc #heavens secret #Spotify

[lswro2-222]

Please tell me about 'His Grace(s)' if possible! That sounds like a Duke story if there had ever been one!

I had a feeling you might ask about that one in particular! You’re right on the money, it’s a Duke story. There was a Twitter thread I saw like a month and a half ago maybe, which I really really wish I’d remembered to save, speculating on what Duke’s reaction might be if His Grace (as he appears in the TV series) came out as gay and got married. My favorite response in that thread was something along the lines of, “of course Duke would be cool with it, that way he gets two His Graces!” So of course that got my wheels turning, and now I’m writing about it!

Here’s a teensy taste of one of the more complete bits:

“How are things on the estate? Are there any new additions or acquisitions you wished to tell me about? Any grand plans for the future?”

“Oh, the estate’s as busy as ever,” Sir Robert replied. “Stephen, Glynn and Millie send their love, by the way.”

“Please give them my regards as well,” Duke said with a smile.

“As for future endeavors, well, that’s… that’s part of the reason I’m here. I…” His Grace trailed off nervously, no longer meeting Duke’s gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I need to tell you something very important, but I’m unsure where to start…”

Duke looked at His Grace, suddenly worried. It was very unlike him to be so apprehensive, especially when he was talking about his plans for the future. It didn’t suit him... In fact, he almost looked as if he was about to be ill.

“Your Grace, perhaps you’d feel better if you sat down? You can step into my cab, if you’d like?”

“That’s very kind of you, Duke, but this is the sort of thing that needs to be said face-to-face.”

Sir Robert took a deep breath.

“I’ve fallen in love, and I plan to ask the one I love to marry me.”

“Why, that’s wonderful!”

“I’m not quite finished.”

“Oh,” Duke blushed. “I’m so sorry. Forgive my outburst, Your Grace.”

Sir Robert smiled a little at the momentary lapse in Duke’s usual formality before continuing.

“The person I wish to marry is a man. I’m gay.”

Duke’s eyes widened, and he gasped softly.

“I understand if this news makes you see me differently, Duke,” Sir Robert said solemnly. “I expect a lot of people will once I make this public. But you have a right to know, given your connection to my family. I wanted you to hear it directly from me, and not be blindsided by it later. And if… if you feel you can’t call me ‘Your Grace’ any longer, I’ll understand that, too.”

Duke was silent. He wasn’t sure what to say.

#ms conductor talking #my own writing

[teine-mallaichte]

Happy Friday x3 For Dragon Age Drunk writing, how about: There always needed to be a reason, an excuse for their bodies to touch. From the touch starved list for Fenders? x3 Of course only if you feel like it. Happy writing x3

Not sure why I took this route, but I hate writing dialogue so obviously my brain went "let's write a dialogue heavy scene where the two characters the scene is about dint actually speak. 😑 Ye... I don't know either 😅

So ye, @dadrunkwriting fic of Hawke getting irritated watching two touch-starved idiots dance around each other. Might be an unofficial part of my Campfire Snippets series to be honest.

As the campfire crackled, casting dancing shadows across the clearing, Hawke leaned back against a log, observing the dynamics between Fenris and Anders. He had noticed the subtle shifts in their relationship—moments that spoke volumes in the quiet language of shared glances and hesitant touches, they way Anders especially seemed to find excuses to brush against Fenris, as if seeking reassurance in the brief contact.

It was no secret that Fenris struggled with the physical contact. Hawke could see the tension in his muscles whenever Anders reached out, the reflexive flinch betraying Fenris's discomfort. But something was different, unlike the usual reaction of anger that followed such attempts at intimacy, Fenris's response seemed tempered, almost subdued. It was a subtle nuance that didn't escape Hawke's keen observation. While the anger still simmered beneath the surface, its target had shifted. Instead of directing his ire outward, towards the perceived threat of intrusion, Fenris seemed to turn it inward as if he was annoyed by his own reactions.

Anders, on the other hand, craved touch like a drowning man craved air, seeking solace in the simple brush of fingertips or the warmth of a shared embrace. Hawke understood the ache that drove him—the loneliness, the longing for warmth in a world that had often been cold and unforgiving.

Hawke sighed, watching as the two dance around each other, their movements tentative yet filled with unspoken desire. He knew Varric found entertainment in their silent courtship, but for Hawke, it was starting to wear thin.

"Blondie seems to be getting bolder," Varric remarked.

Hawke nodded, his gaze never leaving the pair by the fire. "It's like he is constantly looking for any excuse," he replied, a hint of concern in his tone as he glanced over to Varric. "Either Anders has either become extremely clumsy or these 'accidents' are less than accidental."

Varric chuckled knowingly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He's not exactly being subtle."

Hawke let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "No, he's not," he agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I keep expecting Fenris to snap."

The drawf shakes his head, "You're not paying enough attention." Varric leaned back against the log, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "It's not just Blondie who's looking for excuses," he added cryptically.

Hawke furrowed his brow, considering Varric's cryptic statement.

As he looked back over at the two, watching carefully, as he noticed something new. Fenris might flinch and pull away from Anders's touch, but there were moments, brief and fleeting, where he didn't. Moments when Fenris leaned into the contact ever so slightly before catching himself and withdrawing. Before looking irritated at himself once more.

Anders allowed his hand to “accidentally” brush against Fenris’s as he reached for a log to feed the fire. The contact was brief, but Hawke saw it—the slightest pause, a hitch in Fenris’s breath, a momentary lapse in his carefully constructed walls.

Varric’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing. “See? It’s a dance they’re both in, whether they admit it or not.”

Hawke couldn’t help but agree. There was a dance of push and pull, a choreography of yearning that both seemed to partake in. "Well I hope the dance reaches a conclusion soon. I can't take this much longer."

#fanfiction #anders #fenris #dadwc #da drunk writing circle #dragon age fanfiction #campfire snippets series

[ao3feed-janeausten]

#IFTTT #AO3 works tagged 'AUSTEN Jane - Works' #Jane Austen #fanfic #fanfiction

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 9.7

Holidays

Air Force Day (Pakistan)

Bitcoin Day

Constitution Day (Fiji)

Day of Military Intelligence (Ukraine)

Feel the Love Day

Festa Della Rificolona begins (Paper Lantern Festival; Florence, Italy)

First Day of Peel Season

Flag Day (Kuwait)

Fluidra International Pool Pro Day

Google Commemoration Day

Grandad’s Day

Grandma Moses Day

International Day of Clean Air for Blue Skies (UN)

International Manatee Day

Lusaka Peace Agreement Day (a.k.a. Victory Day; Mozambique)

Military Intelligence Day (Ukraine)

Miss America Day

Napoleon Day

National Attention Deficit Disorder Awareness Day

National Buy A Book Day

National First Day of Peel Season

National Grateful Patient Day

National Napoleon Day

National New Hampshire Day

National Regina Day

National Tatiana Day

National Threatened Species Day (Australia)

Neither Snow Nor Rain Day

Newt Day

Nijamati Sewa Divas (Civil Servants Day; Nepal)

Raggedy Ann Day

Roberto Clemente Day

Seven of Nine Day

Still’s Disease Awareness Day

Superhuman Day

Texas Energy Savings Day (Texas)

Threatened Species Day (Australia)

Turn A Cartwheel in Public Day

Victory Day (Mozambique)

Walter White Day

Wild Rose Day (French Republic)

World Day of the Diver

World Duchenne Awareness Day

World Fair Play Day

World Field Epidemiology Day

World Menopause and Work Day

Youth Mental Health Day (UK)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Acorn Squash Day

National Beer Lover’s Day

New England Apple Day

Porter's Porter Day

Salami Day

1st Thursday in September

International Day of the Orchid [1st Thursday]

Jeûne Genevois (Geneva, Switzerland) [Thursday after 1st Sunday]

Kid Lit Art Postcard Day [1st Thursday]

Independence Days

Brazil (from Portugal, 1822)

Istria (Declared; 2005) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Alchmund and Tilberht (Christian; Saint)

Alexandre Falguière (Artology)

Anastasius the Fuller (Christian; Saint)

The Apocalypse (Pastafarian)

Clodoald (a.k.a. Cloud; Christian; Saint)

Coulomb (Positivist; Saint)

Eunan (Christian; Saint)

Evurtius, Bishop of Orleans (Christian; Saint)

Festival of Durga (Goddess of Energy and the World)

Grandma Moses (Artology)

Gratus of Aosta (Christian; Saint)

Grimonia (a.k.a. Germana; Christian; Saint)

Jacob Lawrence (Artology)

Madelberte (Christian; Saint)

Marko Krizin (Christian; Saint)

Matthäus Günther (Artology)

Media Aestas VI (Pagan)

Murray Monster (Muppetism)

Old Boyfriends/Girlfriends Remembrance Day (Pastafarian)

Regina (Christian; Saint)

Stephen Pongracz (Christian; Saint)

Susan St. James Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Perilous Day (13th Century England) [26 of 32]

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 41 of 60)

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [43 of 60]

Premieres

A Momentary Lapse of Reason, by Pink Floyd (Album; 1987)

Anna and the King of Siam, by Margaret Landon (Memoir; 1943)

Anna Karenina (Film; 2012)

Astro Boy (Animated TV Series; 1963)

Bad, by Michael Jackson (Song; 1987)

Brandy, by Brandy (Album; 1994)

The Brother from Another Planet (Film; 1984)

Buddy Holly, by Weezer (Song; 1994)

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, by Elton John (Song; 1973)

The Lady in Red (WB MM Cartoon; 1935)

A Momentary Lapse of Reason, by Pink Floyd (Album; 1987)

No Sail (Disney Cartoon; 1945)

Peppermint (Film; 2018)

Rock Star (Film; 2001)

The Silver Chair, by C.S. Lewis (Novel; 1953) [The Chronicles of Narnia #4]

SportsCenter (Sports TV Show; 1979)

Stick and Rudder: An Explanation of the Art of Flying, by Wolfgang Langewiesche (Flying Book; 1944)

3:10 to Yuma (Film; 2007)

True Blood (TV Series; 2008)

The Unmentionables (WB MM Cartoon; 1963)

Video Killed the Radio Star, by The Buggles (1979)

You Send Me, by Sam Cooke (Song; 1957)

Today’s Name Days

Otto, Ralph, Regina (Austria)

Marko, Memorije, Regina (Croatia)

Regína (Czech Republic)

Robert (Denmark)

Regiina, Reina (Estonia)

Arhippa, Arho, Milo, Miro (Finland)

Reine (France)

Otto, Ralph, Regina (Germany)

Casino, Sozon (Greece)

Regina (Hungary)

Grato (Italy)

Ermins, Regīna, Valdone (Latvia)

Bartas, Bartė, Palmira, Regina (Lithuania)

Regine, Rose (Norway)

Domasława, Domisława, Marek, Melchior, Regina, Rena, Ryszard (Poland)

Marianna (Slovakia)

Judit, Judith, Regina (Spain)

Kevin, Roy (Sweden)

Raegan, Raina, Rana, Rani, Reagan, Regan, Regina, Regine, Yale (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 250 of 2024; 115 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 36 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 3 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Geng-Shen), Day 23 (Wu-Chen)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 21 Elul 5783

Islamic: 21 Safar 1445

J Cal: 10 Aki; Threesday [10 of 30]

Julian: 25 August 2023

Moon: 44%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 26 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Coulomb]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 11 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 78 of 94)

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 17 of 32)

#Holidays

[brookston]

Holidays 9.7

Holidays

Air Force Day (Pakistan)

Bitcoin Day

Constitution Day (Fiji)

Day of Military Intelligence (Ukraine)

Feel the Love Day

Festa Della Rificolona begins (Paper Lantern Festival; Florence, Italy)

First Day of Peel Season

Flag Day (Kuwait)

Fluidra International Pool Pro Day

Google Commemoration Day

Grandad’s Day

Grandma Moses Day

International Day of Clean Air for Blue Skies (UN)

International Manatee Day

Lusaka Peace Agreement Day (a.k.a. Victory Day; Mozambique)

Military Intelligence Day (Ukraine)

Miss America Day

Napoleon Day

National Attention Deficit Disorder Awareness Day

National Buy A Book Day

National First Day of Peel Season

National Grateful Patient Day

National Napoleon Day

National New Hampshire Day

National Regina Day

National Tatiana Day

National Threatened Species Day (Australia)

Neither Snow Nor Rain Day

Newt Day

Nijamati Sewa Divas (Civil Servants Day; Nepal)

Raggedy Ann Day

Roberto Clemente Day

Seven of Nine Day

Still’s Disease Awareness Day

Superhuman Day

Texas Energy Savings Day (Texas)

Threatened Species Day (Australia)

Turn A Cartwheel in Public Day

Victory Day (Mozambique)

Walter White Day

Wild Rose Day (French Republic)

World Day of the Diver

World Duchenne Awareness Day

World Fair Play Day

World Field Epidemiology Day

World Menopause and Work Day

Youth Mental Health Day (UK)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Acorn Squash Day

National Beer Lover’s Day

New England Apple Day

Porter's Porter Day

Salami Day

1st Thursday in September

International Day of the Orchid [1st Thursday]

Jeûne Genevois (Geneva, Switzerland) [Thursday after 1st Sunday]

Kid Lit Art Postcard Day [1st Thursday]

Independence Days

Brazil (from Portugal, 1822)

Istria (Declared; 2005) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Alchmund and Tilberht (Christian; Saint)

Alexandre Falguière (Artology)

Anastasius the Fuller (Christian; Saint)

The Apocalypse (Pastafarian)

Clodoald (a.k.a. Cloud; Christian; Saint)

Coulomb (Positivist; Saint)

Eunan (Christian; Saint)

Evurtius, Bishop of Orleans (Christian; Saint)

Festival of Durga (Goddess of Energy and the World)

Grandma Moses (Artology)

Gratus of Aosta (Christian; Saint)

Grimonia (a.k.a. Germana; Christian; Saint)

Jacob Lawrence (Artology)

Madelberte (Christian; Saint)

Marko Krizin (Christian; Saint)

Matthäus Günther (Artology)

Media Aestas VI (Pagan)

Murray Monster (Muppetism)

Old Boyfriends/Girlfriends Remembrance Day (Pastafarian)

Regina (Christian; Saint)

Stephen Pongracz (Christian; Saint)

Susan St. James Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Perilous Day (13th Century England) [26 of 32]

Taian (大安 Japan) [Lucky all day.]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 41 of 60)

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [43 of 60]

Premieres

A Momentary Lapse of Reason, by Pink Floyd (Album; 1987)

Anna and the King of Siam, by Margaret Landon (Memoir; 1943)

Anna Karenina (Film; 2012)

Astro Boy (Animated TV Series; 1963)

Bad, by Michael Jackson (Song; 1987)

Brandy, by Brandy (Album; 1994)

The Brother from Another Planet (Film; 1984)

Buddy Holly, by Weezer (Song; 1994)

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, by Elton John (Song; 1973)

The Lady in Red (WB MM Cartoon; 1935)

A Momentary Lapse of Reason, by Pink Floyd (Album; 1987)

No Sail (Disney Cartoon; 1945)

Peppermint (Film; 2018)

Rock Star (Film; 2001)

The Silver Chair, by C.S. Lewis (Novel; 1953) [The Chronicles of Narnia #4]

SportsCenter (Sports TV Show; 1979)

Stick and Rudder: An Explanation of the Art of Flying, by Wolfgang Langewiesche (Flying Book; 1944)

3:10 to Yuma (Film; 2007)

True Blood (TV Series; 2008)

The Unmentionables (WB MM Cartoon; 1963)

Video Killed the Radio Star, by The Buggles (1979)

You Send Me, by Sam Cooke (Song; 1957)

Today’s Name Days

Otto, Ralph, Regina (Austria)

Marko, Memorije, Regina (Croatia)

Regína (Czech Republic)

Robert (Denmark)

Regiina, Reina (Estonia)

Arhippa, Arho, Milo, Miro (Finland)

Reine (France)

Otto, Ralph, Regina (Germany)

Casino, Sozon (Greece)

Regina (Hungary)

Grato (Italy)

Ermins, Regīna, Valdone (Latvia)

Bartas, Bartė, Palmira, Regina (Lithuania)

Regine, Rose (Norway)

Domasława, Domisława, Marek, Melchior, Regina, Rena, Ryszard (Poland)

Marianna (Slovakia)

Judit, Judith, Regina (Spain)

Kevin, Roy (Sweden)

Raegan, Raina, Rana, Rani, Reagan, Regan, Regina, Regine, Yale (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 250 of 2024; 115 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 36 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 3 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Geng-Shen), Day 23 (Wu-Chen)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 21 Elul 5783

Islamic: 21 Safar 1445

J Cal: 10 Aki; Threesday [10 of 30]

Julian: 25 August 2023

Moon: 44%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 26 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Coulomb]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 11 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 78 of 94)

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 17 of 32)

#calendar #Holidays

[lothiriel84]

God Has Given Your Soul to Keep

He was beginning to despair of whatever power of persuasion he might have over his wife, when it became apparent there were far more pressing reasons for her to relinquish any plan of travel for the foreseeable future.

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Darcy/Elizabeth. Sequel to The Way I Feel When I’m in Your Hands.

As could be expected, the gossip surrounding the expeditiousness of Mr and Mrs Darcy’s marriage only intensified following the birth of their daughter. People began counting on their fingers, and taking guesses as to the scandalous circumstances of her conception that were often not very far off the mark; even Mr Darcy’s position in society could not entirely prevent speculation from circulating among his closest acquaintances, and it soon became apparent that it could not be hoped for Miss Darcy to remain entirely ignorant of those rumours, such as they were.  

As one of her guardians as well as Darcy’s cousin and intimate friend, it was Colonel Fitzwilliam who took it upon himself to broach the difficult subject with Georgiana. It was far from pleasant a task, but he was never one to shrink back from an unpleasant duty, and he was determined to do everything within his power to soften the blow for his young cousin. All in all, it went better than he had dared to hope for, though it hardly escaped everyone’s notice how she could not bring herself to look her brother in the eye, afterwards.  

In a futile attempt to conceal his hurt at finding himself the object of his sister’s contempt, Mr Darcy took up to spending most of his free time in the nursery, watching over his sleeping daughter and wondering whether she too would come to despise him one day. Unable to bear the strain caused by so painful a rift between brother and sister, Elizabeth soon made up her mind to seek a resolution by whatever means open to her. As uneasy as she felt at the prospect of confessing the shocking details of her secret shame to someone as guileless as her new sister was, her husband’s continued happiness mattered more to her than any thought of her own respectability in the eyes of the world. She was so determined to shift upon herself as huge a part of the blame as could be contrived that she was not in the least prepared for Georgiana to break into sudden tears and beg her forgiveness for her brother’s unpardonable conduct.  

“I do not know how it was possible for him to comport himself in such a manner after everything that transpired between myself and Mr Wickham,” her sister-in-law lamented, growing more distressed by the moment. “He has always been everything that is good and amiable, and I am ashamed to think he could forget his honour to such an extent as to disregard the consequences of his actions entirely.” 

“Oh, but that he did not, Georgiana,” Elizabeth hastened to correct her. “He had offered for me already, and he was fully prepared to do what was expected of him to restore my reputation, if only I would let him. It was entirely my fault that I refused him a second time, even after he urged me to consider the precariousness of my position as well as that of my family.” 

“A true gentleman would never dream of imposing upon a lady, that is what he has always taught me,” Georgiana shook her head, disappointment written plain as day upon her features. “And to think that I have been looking up to him for as long as I can remember, only to find that he is no better than the Wickhams of this world.” 

“You are being unjust now,” Elizabeth told her gently, reaching to cover her hand with her own. “Your brother may have been mistaken in his conduct, but he never intended to cause me any harm, and I was as willing a participant in the events of that day as he himself was. And for all that I would never wish to set a bad example for you or any other young lady of our acquaintance, I cannot bring myself to fully regret the impropriety of my own conduct, not when it has brought me the blessing of a beloved husband and daughter, and a new sister I have come to regard as my own.” 

Georgiana let herself be swept into her sister-in-law’s embrace then, and tearfully assured her that she too loved her as a sister, and could not bear the thought of a world without her precious little niece in it. Much later, when Elizabeth walked into the nursery to check upon Anne, she found Georgiana fast asleep with her head nestled on her brother’s shoulder, and there was such unbidden tenderness in Mr Darcy’s entire demeanour as he gazed upon his sister and daughter alike that it very nearly melted her heart.  

.

As conscious as Mr Darcy was of the deep affection between the two sisters, he had nevertheless spent the better part of the past month attempting to discourage Elizabeth from subjecting their young daughter to the perils and discomforts of a long journey by carriage, even under so pressing an inducement as her natural desire to lend her assistance during her sister’s first confinement. He was beginning to despair of whatever power of persuasion he might have over his wife, when it became apparent there were far more pressing reasons for her to relinquish any plan of travel for the foreseeable future.  

“Mama had sworn it would not happen, so long as I was still nursing our daughter,” Elizabeth complained in much weaker a manner than was her wont, as he dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a damp cloth before escorting her back to the bed. “How am I supposed to go through it all again so soon after Anne?” 

Once more, they had not intended for this to happen, though they had scarcely been apart since Elizabeth had expressed her wish to partake in the sort of intimacies that were expected between husband and wife. In all truth, the risks inherent to entering a confinement so soon after the first where not lost on either of them, but there was very little that could be done now, except pray for her continued health and that of the babe she felt sure she was carrying.  

Jane had to be informed, of course, though under strict instructions not to reveal their suspicions to a living soul, save for her loving husband, whose mind was so entirely occupied with his impending fatherhood there was very little risk for him to accidentally reveal their secret. As for Georgiana, she was entirely delighted at the prospect of a new nephew or niece, and promptly offered her services to take upon herself as much of Anne’s care as could be spared from her ailing mother.  

Much sooner than anticipated, news came from Netherfield that Mrs Bingley had been safely delivered of a healthy boy, whom they had chosen to name William, in honour of both his uncle and his grandfather.  

“I see my sister has done well in her duty of providing her husband with an heir,” Elizabeth commented as she put down the letter and turned her full attention to her fussing daughter. “Let us hope I shall manage to follow her example, this time.” 

Reaching for the letter, Mr Darcy shook his head, turning a very earnest gaze upon his wife and child. “As I believe I have assured you many times before, my dear, were you to provide me with nothing but daughters, I shall still be content.” 

“Think of the dowries you will be called to provide, Sir,” she jested, even as the babe latched onto her breast. “What will become of your estate, were I to follow my mother’s example?” 

“You need not concern yourself, Mrs Darcy,” he raised his eyebrow in mock haughtiness. “After all, a gentleman of ten thousand a year can more than support as many daughters as the Almighty sees fit to bless him with, and a wife besides.” 

“Not if they keep coming each of them so soon after the other,” Elizabeth sighed, though he could tell it she aimed at teasing him more than anything else. 

.

Since it was out of the question for Jane to travel to Pemberley for her sister’s confinement, and Mrs Bennet was reluctant to relinquish the care of her first grandson in favour of what she felt sure was to be yet another failed attempt on Elizabeth’s part to provide her husband with the heir that was naturally expected of her, Mr and Mrs Gardiner set out for Derbyshire in their stead, much to the Darcys’ delight.  

Mrs Gardiner was a very sensible woman, and as such, saw fit to provide her niece with a thorough explanation pertaining the ways of marital intimacies, and how a gentlewoman might go about ensuring she would not find herself in an increasing state just as often, provided that her husband was considerate enough to lend his own assistance in the matter. Such conversation proved to be uncomfortable and illuminating in equal parts, and Elizabeth gained considerable amusement in relaying the gist of it to her prim and proper husband, who could not help but blush several times over before she was done.  

“For someone who once forgot himself enough to join with a woman out of wedlock, you are entirely too easily shocked, Sir,” she teased him mercilessly, only relenting when she saw the familiar glimpse of shame spread across his features. “But I still hope you shall be willing to assist me, when the time comes for us to lie together once more.” 

“Do not speak of that, I beg of you, Elizabeth,” he all but pleaded, fingers running through his hair in an agitated manner. “I am very conscious of the trials you are about to face, believe me, but at the present moment, I have a hard enough time already in keeping myself under good regulation.” 

Elizabeth huffed impatiently, and gestured for him to resume his former place beside her on the great bed. “Did we not have this exact same conversation, barely a year ago? You need not suffer for my sake, and you must know by now how glad it makes me to be able to give you relief.” 

Mr Darcy cleared his throat, yet complied with her wishes with uncommon alacrity; it was all Elizabeth could do to keep her excessive smugness from showing on her face as she promptly reached for her husband.  

.

Charles Edward Darcy entered the world two years to the day of his sister’s conception, and with such haste as to very nearly cause a relapse of his father’s old injury to the knee. Elizabeth was left utterly exhausted by her ordeal, much more so than she had the first time around, and quickly succumbed to a fever that had the doctor and the midwife most worried about her continued survival. Mr Darcy spent three long days at his wife’s bedside, praying that her life might be spared and offering his own in exchange, a sacrifice he was most willing to make for the woman he had come to love even more dearly than he had once thought possible in all the ardency of his passion.  

On the fourth day, her fever broke, and he could no longer contain his tears of relief as she asked for their son to be brought to her. For a while, it did not look as if she would be able to nurse the child herself, much to her secret sorrow; in the end though, as her health improved, and under the kind direction of the wet nurse that had been summoned for just such an eventuality, she found that she could, after all, and her joy was complete. 

“You may write to Lady Catherine, let her know that I have not been remiss in my duties as a wife after all,” Elizabeth declared one evening as she sat with her son upon her breast, after Georgiana had come in to take Anne to bed.  

Mr Darcy all but raised a disdainful eyebrow at the mention of his aunt. “You know very well I shall not acknowledge her for as long as she persists in refusing the courtesy that is due to you as my wife. And even if I were to choose to disregard her conduct in your regards, I fear she still worries too much about the damage any association with the scandal created by our union might cause to her daughter’s prospects of marriage.” 

“Poor Miss de Bourgh,” Elizabeth replied with feeling, and he knew precisely how she meant it. 

As unconcerned about the loss of his aunt’s good opinion as Mr Darcy ostensibly was, the same could not be said about his father-in-law’s, who took it upon himself to descend upon Pemberley unannounced not a week later. Mr Bennet, he felt sure, had never quite forgiven him for his unpardonable offence against one whom he undoubtedly considered his favourite daughter still, despite any other reservations he might choose to harbour.  

In his great relief for his wife’s full recovery as well as the joy of being so soon granted the son and heir that was expected of a man in his position, he welcomed the older gentleman with considerably more warmth than he was wont to display before those outside his immediate circle; Elizabeth, for her part, made no secret of her present happiness, and while neither of them had any notion of it, the mutual devotion between herself and her husband could scarcely escape her father’s notion.  

A fortnight later, most of which agreeably spent within the confines of Mr Darcy’s library, Mr Bennet declared himself satisfied as to Elizabeth’s wellbeing, complimented her on producing so fine specimens of grandchildren as a man of his age could hope for, and parted with his son-in-law on much better terms than either of them had previously had reason to expect. As the carriage finally drew away Mr Darcy heaved a sigh of relief, and reaching for the walking stick he had resigned himself to make use of on occasion, took himself back upstairs to the wife and children he doted upon most fiercely. 

#Pride and Prejudice #Pride and Prejudice (2005) #Elizabeth Bennet #Mr Darcy #Georgiana Darcy #Elizabeth/Darcy #alternate universe #canon divergence #family #historical inaccuracies #I don't even know #I wrote a thing #A Momentary Lapse of Reason (series)

[jaygerland]

Liked on YouTube: David Gilmour with Romany Gilmour - Yes, I Have Ghosts (Von Trapped Series) - Yes, I Have Ghosts performed by David Gilmour and Romany Gilmour in front of the Katsikas set, as part of the Von Trapped Family livestream series. Subscribe to David Gilmour's YouTube channel here: https://ift.tt/aGmqxs0 *DAVID GILMOUR SOCIAL MEDIA* Official Website https://ift.tt/mTpyK1d Facebook https://ift.tt/fbY5uvZ Twitter https://twitter.com/davidgilmour Instagram https://ift.tt/pfmls5q *ABOUT DAVID GILMOUR* David Gilmour CBE, the voice & guitar of Pink Floyd, hit No. 1 in the UK with his 2006 solo album On An Island. Following Pink Floyd’s final album, 2014’s The Endless River, (No. 1 in 21 countries), David’s latest studio album, Rattle That Lock, and 2017's release of Live At Pompeii are out now. Buy via https://ift.tt/mTpyK1d A Cambridge friend of Syd Barrett, David joined Syd, with Roger Waters, Richard Wright, and Nick Mason, in Pink Floyd in early 1968, only for Syd to leave the group five gigs later. Pink Floyd's subsequent huge worldwide success continued after Roger Waters' departure in 1985, with the albums A Momentary Lapse Of Reason and The Division Bell both charting at No. 1 in the UK and the US, and sell-out world tours. Rattle That Lock released in 2015 and David’s 4th solo album, went to No. 1 in 13 countries. In 2017, Live at Pompeii released as a live album and film which was recorded at the Amphitheatre of Pompeii. #DavidGilmour #VonTrapped #PinkFloyd

#IFTTT #YouTube

[kristen-stewart-cheats-onoe]

kristen stewart cheats on rob pattinson mod menu A6NO?

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 It turns out that Stewart had no true reason for cheating on Pattinson with Sanders other than that she was going through a self-destructive. After the fiasco, Kristen, later on, made a public apology to Robert, by claiming that she made a grave mistake by cheating on him. The actress. Rupert Sanders called his affair with Kristen Stewart back in as a momentary lapse and a mistake made in the heat of the moment, and. Kristen Stewart Shares Why She Cheated On Robert Pattinson It was in when the actress opened up to Marie Claire about her cheating. are robert pattinson and kristen stewart still friends What a difference a year makes. Us Weekly broke news of the fling with exclusive photos of the shocking tryst, taken on July Now, one year later, both respective couples have ended their relationships. Here, Us offers a timeline of events that lead to the heartbreak and all that has happened since the scandal. July 17, The year-old actress met up with Sanders, 41, for a series of steamy makeout sessions in Los Angeles, which was caught by photographers. The twosome spent the afternoon driving around L. July 19, Pattinson and Stewart seemed especially cozy during a date at Hotel Cafe. The stars walked out on stage holding hands and gave their awards to their fans while thanking them for their years of support. July 23, : Rumors began to circulate that Us was preparing to publish an explosive story that Stewart was caught cheating. Fans took to Twitter to express their disbelief and horror over the mere idea that Stewart could be unfaithful to Pattinson. She then later deactivated her Twitter account. This momentary indiscretion has jeopardized the most important thing in my life, the person I love and respect the most, Rob. I love them with all my heart. I am praying that we can get through this together. Twipocalypse arrived as fans try to come to terms with the reality of the scandal after Stewart and Sanders confess. Pattinson and Stewart delighted fans when there were photographed together for the first time since the cheating scandal. The reunited couple were spotted having an intimate chat outside a L. When asked if she was back together with Pattinson during a Nov. March 19, While Pattinson was away for over two months filming The Rover in Australia, rumors circulated that the couple was broken up. But Robsten fans breathed a little easier after the Twilight twosome were photographed reunited in L. May 18, Multiple sources confirmed to Us that Pattinson and Stewart broke up. July 8, Love for Robsten continues for fans even after their breakup. For access to all our exclusive celebrity videos and interviews — Subscribe on YouTube! Cancel OK. Your account. Privacy Policy Terms and Conditions. First Name. Select Male Female Non-Binary. Edit info Save Cancel. Shopping Preferences. What type of traveler are you? Unsubscribe from All Newsletters. Your Orders. You haven't placed any orders yet. Order details: Image. Your Subscriptions. Yes, please send me the Us Weekly Daily Newsletter with the latest news and photos of my favorite celebs! Yes, I also want to receive information about promotions, events, sweepstakes, giveaways, and other offers from UsMagazine. Yes, please send me the Mens Journal Offers and Promotions. Yes, please send me the Mens Journal Whiskey Wednesdays. Yes, please send me the Mens Journal Newsletter. Yes, please send me the In Touch Weekly Newsletter with the latest news and photos of my favorite celebs! Yes, I also want to receive information about promotions, events, sweepstakes, giveaways, and other offers from In Touch Weekly and trusted partners! Yes, please send me the Closer Weekly Newsletter with the latest news and photos of my favorite celebs! Yes, I also want to receive information about promotions, events, sweepstakes, giveaways, and other offers from Closer Weekly and trusted partners! Receive emails from Us Weekly Marketplace. Sign In. Need an account? Sign up now! Forgot password? Sign Up. Your password must include: Min 8 characters Min 1 lowercase character Min 1 uppercase character Min 1 number. I agree to the terms of the Terms and Conditions and the Privacy Policy. Forgot your password? Enter your email to receive activation code. Visit Google or Facebook to do that. Reset your password. An email has been sent to with a recovery code. Please enter it below: Enter new password Your password must include: Min 8 characters Min 1 lowercase character Min 1 uppercase character Min 1 number. More News. Account My Account Sign Out.

[http-skzhyuns]

apologies | changbin - angst

requested, changbin x y/n [angst + fluff] 

word count: 1.8k+  warnings: explicit description of anxiety, breakdowns — please tell me if i forgot to add anything in the warnings.  a/n: to the one who requested, i’m not sure how long ago you made the request bec i rarely check my tumblr. i’m so sorry but here it is. :) i haven’t written in so long. thank you for making the request. also, i think i got carried away with the angst, i hope the short fluff at the end was what you’re looking for. :< i didn’t proofread this and before we start, just wanna thank u all for the 100 followers!! stay safe :) start. 

you could see the stars shining from where you are sat, moving in a new country with an entirely different culture has made you anxious. but this, the view in your apartment is your favorite. it’s enough to take away the need to fiddle with your hands and to unconsciously tap your feet whenever you get the chance. the autumn breeze is cold but it’s bearable, nonetheless, you find yourself wrapping your cardigan tightly around your torso, trying to soak in the extra warmth that the fabric can provide.  a sudden shrill of ringtone startled you away from your lingering thoughts. smiling at the nickname displayed in your screen, you swiped to answer the call.  “y/n! hello baby,” changbin’s face appeared in your screen, smiling widely at you. you chuckled at his overt enthusiasm, “hello there, love.”  “are you settled in? do you need anything?” your smile faltered for a few seconds but changbin didn’t seem to notice. “nothing, love. i’m all good. don’t worry.”  “i’m sorry i can’t drop by there tonight,” you can hear the rustle on his end and the muted screams of jisung in the background.  “got stuck on a melody?” you asked softly. there’s a long sigh on his end before he answered, “yeah. it’s not working out as smoothly as we expected.”  “don’t worry about it, bin. i’m fine here, i’m good for a few days so you don’t need to worry about me. just do your thing, it’ll come to you, guys. give it time, i just know it’s going to be a great song once it’s done,” you attempted to lift his spirits up, but you genuinely believe it’s going to work out in the end.  your words were met with silence, concern started to grow until you hear him clear his throat. 

“... i love you,” he whispered. you smiled, “i love you too, now, go back there. don’t forget to get some rest even just for a bit, tell the boys the same thing too, okay? have a good night, binnie.” you saw him nod, a sign that he heard you, he waved and you waved goodnight.  the screen turned black signaling that the call ended. you sighed, putting your phone down beside you before pulling your legs up to your chest before resting your arms around them.  “it’s okay, he’ll be home soon.”

day four, no signs of activity. you begrudgingly dragged yourself out of the bed. another work day, another day to make sure you don’t get in other people’s way. you sipped from your cup of coffee while checking your phone for any message from changbin.

“good morning, y/n.”

it was simple, straightforward and you shook off the crawling feeling on your skin. it’s okay.

you texted back a good morning before picking your things up to actually get ready for the day.

“y/n! come over here,” your supervisor called. you resisted the urge to curl your fingers into your palm, digging into the skin as you nervously walked over to her desk.

“y/n, did you check this over before you submitted?” she started and you can feel a thousand scenarios running through your head and you find yourself picking it all apart, wondering if you really did check it over or there’s a lapse in your memory.

after careful consideration, you answered, “yes, ma’am.” she sighed, before carefully pulling you over. she showed her file before patiently pointing out the mistakes in the report you turned over.

there’s a momentary relief that coursed through you after you closed the door to her office. you find yourself dragging your feet as you walk back to your desk.

“tough day?” your co-worker asked when he noticed the sluggish movement you’ve been making.

you sheepishly shook your head, “i’m alright.” he looked at you for a second longer before nodding to himself.

when the night time comes, you absentmindedly hid your shoes inside the cabinet by the door of your apartment. you briefly glanced at your window to see that the sky is pitch dark and devoid of the shining stars you love so much.

another sigh. 10PM. a groan left your mouth.

you covered your face with your hands, roughly running them through your hair out of frustration.

the sound of keys started growing louder before your door opened. in comes, seo changbin, walking in with his backpack, clad in a black hoodie and a sweatpants. however, you remained seated in the small couch.

“y/n? are you home?” he asked. you grunted in reply but you doubt he would have heard it.

“there you are, i missed you,” he went for a hug but you narrowly dodged his attempt.

his brows furrowed in confusion, “hey? you’re okay?”

you nodded, looking down before standing up and going straight to the bathroom.

there’s a heaviness in the air, changbin isn’t sure what it is and what’s wrong. he was so sure you were okay. you were okay through your messages for the past few days.

whatever it is, he’ll let you come to him when you’re ready. and so, he got started on making dinner. he was about to put the food into a plate and set the table when he heard a hard thud from the bathroom, followed by clanking of several things — what he assumed to be toiletries on your counter.

rushing over, he quickly turned off the stove and went to knock on your door.

“y/n? baby?” nobody answered. he knocked for the second time, more insistent.

“y/n? is everything okay?” silence filled the space… until he heard a faint rustling on the other side and the soft click of the door met his ears.

the sight of you nearly broke him to pieces. for some reason, he didn’t notice how off you’ve been feeling the last few days because you were so good at maintaining your composure in front of other people.

but, you, standing there in front of him. your shoulders hunched while you’re covered by your bathrobe— there’s a sense of emptiness in your eyes. his eyes flicked back in forth between you and the mess behind you— just as he guessed, your toiletries clattered on the floor.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, looking at him straight in the eye.

changbin inhaled sharply, wondering what’s the reason for your apologies. “what happened? were you hurt?” he asked, gently coaxing you into his arms.

you buried your head in his chest, tightly clinging onto his shirt as the first sob tore through your throat. changbin can feel the rising panic in him because he can’t still pinpoint the reason and the situation that just took place in the bathroom. despite all this, he tightened his arms around you, keeping you enclosed in his body as he run his hands through your damp hair.

“what’s wrong? why are you sorry?” he asked, calmly. the second sob came followed by a third, until you’re full-on weeping in his arms, softly muttering a series of “i’m sorry”.

after a while, you whispered,“i’ll clean it up, i’m fine now. thank you.” you loosened your grip on his hoodie but he tightened his hold on you. “come here,” he said and pulled you to the adjacent kitchen area. he made you sit on a stool before looking straight in your eye.

“you’re not okay…” he whispered. “i can see that you’re not okay. so please, quit telling yourself that you are. i’m here, aren’t i? what’s wrong?” there’s warmth in his eyes and you feel an onslaught of tears for the second time today, just by the sight of it.

“i-“ you stuttered. “i’m s—“ changbin held his finger up, shushing you. “don’t apologize. if you’re apologizing for not being okay. please, i don’t want to hear it, love. you don’t have to apologize for that.” you fiddled with your hands in nervousness.

“…there’s a lot…” you breathed in, trying to work through the tears and the anxiety, “there’s so many things happening, so many people to get accustomed to…” you faltered, trying to smile at him to ease the heaviness of your words. “it’s so hard,” you looked down, finally allowing the tears to copiously fall.

in the years you’ve been together, changbin have always admired you for being able to hold down your fort. you were calm and grounded, even at the most toughest times. but he knows, deep down the ‘strength’ was something that you developed because of expectation. because people expected you to be strong and they needed you to be.

changbin placed his hands on your cheeks, making you lift your head up to him before placing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“stop,” he smiled at you. “it’s okay to stop being strong, you know? it’s okay to stop taking the weight of everything and telling yourself that you can take it.” you shook your head, ready to disagree.

“it wasn’t a good week, there’s a lot of things going wrong, i wasn’t adjusting as well as i thought i would. i turned in an incorrect report today,” you babbled, spilling everything that happened for the past few days you didn’t get to see him.

“…i’m just so tired,” you looked at him, frowning from the heaviness in your chest.

“… and that’s okay,” he whispered. “baby, it’s okay to let things go. there’s nothing wrong with admitting that you can’t take it, that you’re not okay.”

“but, i didn’t want to be a burden…” you whispered. and for the second time that night, changbin felt his heart constrict at the words that left your mouth.

“baby, you’re not a burden. don’t ever think that you are,” he firmly replied, prompting you to look him in the eye, making sure you understand what he’s saying. you nodded and he smiled, satisfied before peppering your face with kisses.

“the next time you start feeling like this, can you please tell me? i want to know so i can help, in whatever way i can, okay? don’t take it on to yourself and try to sweep it under a rug.” you nodded and he went for another hug before letting you go, “go and get changed. you’re practically dry now. i’ll pick up your things in the bathroom,” you looked at him grateful for his help and comfort.

“have i ever told you how much i love you?” you softly asked. he smiled, “not enough times today, i think.”

“we have to rectify that, don’t we?” you joked.

“yeah, because i need my love to be reciprocated or else, i won’t give you the food i cooked,” he let out a boisterous laugh.

“… binnie, i love you. thank you,” you walked over to his place, pulling him for a kiss.

“always here for you, baby. i love you too. now go get changed, the food’s cold,” he went for another chaste kiss before waving you away.

#stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids angst #changbin #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids changbin au #changbin angst #imagine getting a hug from binnie

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Multiplication

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ... Neckhole Wrestling ... The Onesie

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

“Holy … shit …”

Scully was simply silent.

“Holy … shit …”

Scully drew a deep breath.

“Holy … shit …”

“Would you stop saying that?”

Mulder looked from the monitor to Scully and back to the monitor, fingers nervously touching the screen, then pulling back quickly, wondering if touching the image would make it disappear, “but … there’s two.”

Having regained her faculties, she bumped shoulders with him, losing the connection to her belly but not minding, given she had already captured the picture, “maybe that’s why I’m more vomit-y than with Will.”

He didn’t even call her on the use of the word vomit-y, “How did you not see the first time we did this?”

“All I can think of is one was hiding behind the other and besides, they aren’t that big. Lima Bean 2 may have looked like an air bubble.”

Squinting at her in wonder, “what will you give me to get me to promise never to tell one of our children that for the first two months of their life, you thought they were a fart bubble?”

Wiping the goo off her belly, sliding her shirt back down, “it’ll give them character. I’m fine with it.”

“You’re getting a shirt.”

As she stood up, “I’ll wear it with pride but first,” already moving down the hall, “I’m going to throw up.”

&&&&&&&&&

True to his word, he had a shirt for her which read, “I thought my baby was a fart bubble,” by the time he came home from work the next day but Scully chose not to wear it trick-or-treating, “I don’t want to go declaring things until I’m further along.”

“I know but I think it will go under your sweater just fine.”

Seeing the shine in his eyes and his ‘you’re gonna cave’ grin, she shook her head and pulled sweater off, leaving exposed slightly not so flat belly, “I am going to be huge by the end of May.” She stopped suddenly, “what if they have the same birthday as Will?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy who could do a spell or at least cast a charm that would totally make that happen.”

Oh my God, she honestly thought she might know the guy he was talking about, and with a serious notionative thought that would have scared the bejeesus out of her a few years early, she actually debated on whether to have Mulder get him on the phone.

Sometimes she stopped and wondered what in the world had happened to her straight and narrow life.

He saw first the debate and reached for his pocket, phone within inches, number already floating through the slag to the surface of his consistently cluttered mind, but then he noticed the two seconds of sheer doubt in the entire world and he stopped, reaching into his other pocket instead, to produce a red M&M. Picking off lint, he held it out to her, “this is for you so you remember why you like me.”

Scully ate it from his fingertips, “momentary lapse of reason. It’s gone now.”

Trick-or-treating went well. Scully, Mulder, Dave, and Skinner traveled with the pack while the other parents stayed to pass out candy at Maggie’s. Will pulled in a good haul simply because the alien costume Mulder had made was incredibly adorable, with its green fuzzy material and it hood with giant eyes. Mulder had demanded gray but Scully won, telling him no one would know what he was if the costume was gray.

As a reward for winning, she agreed to share a quarter of her son’s take with his father, “a quarter? What the hell?”

Whispering to him, “three mouths to feed. I get three-quarters.”

He contemplated, then conceded, following with a cocked head, “we’ll have to do things to burn off the sugar high, won’t we?”

“Indeed we will.”

Skinner simply shook his head at the whispering and the giggling of his agents trailing behind, “keep up with the rest of the class, kids. I don’t want you getting lost back there.”

Taking Scully’s hand, pushing the stroller with the other, “come on. Dad doesn’t want us to get lost.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Mulder walked off the elevator the following morning, immediately bombarded by the smell of patchouli and cigarette smoke. Neither smell was to his liking and he entered the office asking, in an irritated voice, “what the hell is that smell?”

A dark-haired woman turned around, answering him in a no-nonsense clip that he would have appreciated had he not already decided she was a pain in his ass given that the smell of smoke that clung to her was even worse once he was in the room, “my name is Monica Reyes.”

Neither Doggett nor Harrison were anywhere to be seen and Mulder narrowed his gaze at her, “how can I help you, Monica Reyes, because there are only roughly nine people who know we exist down here and you are not one of them.”

Non-plussed by the closed and suspicious tone of one Fox Mulder, she held out her hand, never blinking, never looking away, “you must be Agent Mulder. John’s told me a lot about you.”

Ignoring her hand and knowing he was being rude, he continued, “what brand of cigarettes do you smoke?”

Monica tilted her head at him, finally become irritated, “none. The smell on me is from two days of staying with my stepmother. She smokes Marlboro, not that it’s any of your business, while I have never so much as thought about smoking anything, given she has lung cancer and is on track to die a slow, suffocating death. Her name is Patricia. You could call and ask her yourself but that may be hard, given she breathes, and smokes, through a tube in her neck.”

Mulder felt sufficiently horrible by now and shutting his eyes, he regrouped, this time meeting her hand that continued to hover between them, “I’m sorry. I have innate suspicions.”

“Of smokers? Strangers? Women named Patricia?”

All in, “yes.”

“Are you done being an asshole?”

“Probably not but I’ll do my best to keep it to a minimum.” It felt weird to be called out by someone who wasn’t his wife or his boss, “what can I do for you, Miss Reyes?”

“It’s actually Agent Reyes. I’m up here from New Orleans to talk to both you and to my friend, John.”

He was having a fine morning, “can we maybe start over? Let me come back in here and be … less … total dipshit?”

Monica laughed, “you’re fine. John informed me of your incredibly low tolerance for anyone who wasn’t Agent Scully. I actually expected this exchange to be worse.”

Shaking his head, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry again and,” looking around, “moving on, where is Doggett? He would have had to let you in here.”

“He’s up stealing us the good Danish. It seems the third floor has the best in the building.”

Mulder’s stomach growled loudly, “I hope he steals enough for everyone.” It finally sank in where she was from, “New Orleans, you said, right? Did you come up here to escape Halloween in the city?”

“I love Halloween in the city. It’s almost as much fun as Mardi Gras but without so many boobs and beads but the best is actually tonight, which is ‘Day of the Dead.’ I’m missing one of the best parties of the year to be here.”

Offering her a seat and heading to his behind the desk, “should I be honored?”

“More like informative.” Sitting, back straight, arms loosely crossed, “I’d like to start an X-Files division down south.”

#msr #accidental fart bubbles #double the fun #monica reyes #an incredibly low tolerance for anyone who isn't agent scully #MulderNScully #xfiles #xf fanfic #x-files fanfic #x-files #my writing #life part 4 series