Tumgik
#octagon eyes
thesunlounge · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Infuso Giallo - The Big Rip (from Ocular Soda, Kame House 2021)
21 notes · View notes
todayisafridaynight · 10 months
Text
i already made this post im 99% sure idc but ik i draw ichi with dragon quest eyes but king really does have jojo eyes
7 notes · View notes
lemememeringue · 1 year
Text
hello ladies I don't mean to brag but I went to the optometrist today and didn't even stutter once
they also said my eye is shaped like a squashed egg if that does anything for you
10 notes · View notes
harrelltut · 7 months
Text
Eye TUTANKHAMÚN [E.T.] Again @ The_Octagon_(Egypt) of kingtutdna.com’s Hi:teKEMETICompu_TAH [PTAH] MOON.gov Employment [ME] Intranet [MI = MICHAEL] Agency [MA] of 1968-michaelharrelljr.com’s Highly Classified... Underground SOVEREIGN [U.S.] Aeronautical [USA] Deutsch UFO SKY [U.S.] MILITARY.gov of Ægiptian [ME] TUTANKHAMÚN’s Most Darkest [Occulted] 9 Ether Celestial igigiskymilitary.tech ENGINEER-ARCHITECTS [CREATORS] of SIRIUS BLACKANUNNAQI.tech Computing [B.C.] PATENT WEALTH @ 1921 QUANTUM 2023 HARRELL 2024 T-Mobile 2025 AT&T & IBM [A.i.] LLC of ATLANTIS [L.A.] 5000
Tumblr media
WELCOME BACK HOME IMMORTAL [HIM] U.S. MILITARY KING SOLOMON-MICHAEL HARRELL, JR.™
Tumblr media
O MOTHER [OM] LORD ISIS!!! EYE BEE MONK [IBM] MODE [I’M] KING TUTANKHAMÚN @ QUANTUMHARRELLTECH.ca.gov 
Tumblr media
eye ain't dead since eye never died!!!
Tumblr media
1968-michaelharrelljr.com bee anu golden 9 ether [age] 1698 kingtutdna.com domain dynasty of enqi [me] nudimmud's blackatlantis5000.tech?!?!?!
Tumblr media
kingtutdna.com domain dynasty resurrected harrelltut.com's staged death domain… hidden under the shhh…. shadow of illusionary death [i.d.] of 1968-michaelharrelljr.com
Tumblr media
JEHOVAH OKCULT BIBLE [JOB] BUSINESS WITNESS harrelltut.com's Egyptian Octagon of 1968-michaelharrelljr.com's Xtra LARGE REAL ESTATE DOMAIN [RED] in EGYPT 
Tumblr media
eyetutankhamun.com of kingtutpentagon.tech wealth
Tumblr media
1st Eye of TUTANKHAMÚN [E.T.] at the TOP
Tumblr media
© 1698-2223 QUANTUM HARRELL TECH LLC All LOST ANCIENT [L.A.] ÆGIPTIAN ATLANTEAN DNA [A.D.] DotCom [A.D.] + DotTech [A.D.] PATENT WRITES of KING TUTANKHAMÚN Rights Reserved… since EYE NEVER DIED
2 notes · View notes
riggedbones · 2 years
Text
in 2nd grade my teacher for some reason decided to teach us all how to draw in an anime style and he’d say that anime eyes were polygons (this is probably how he tied it into the actual school lessons. i’m realizing.) and so i always tried to give characters octagon eyes
8 notes · View notes
duckmumbo · 2 years
Text
I think we should all take more advantage of the fact that 3rd life ended on June 8th 2021 and season 8 of hermitcraft started/was posted on June 19 2021
12 notes · View notes
horse-head-farms · 3 months
Text
🪼slime-kisser Follow
all these posts like “don’t shop at boatem they support cannibalism” “the evil empire is a crypto scam” “don’t buy at octagon they’re trying to destroy the fabric of the universe” where the FUCK else am I supposed to shop????
🐠xbcrafted Follow
may i recommend horse head farms? we sell a variety items for agreeable prices and have alternate payment plans which mean you don’t have to spend a single diamond! you can find us via the nether hub <3
🪲yeswingsforlife Follow
do NOT shop at Horse Head Farms! Their items are incredibly overpriced (you can find grass, logs, etc for better prices) and this “alternative payment scheme” is actually signing an IOU. If you don’t know what that is, IOU stands for “I Owe You” and is a legal document that, when possessed, someone can force you to do anything. Literally anything. LegalKnight does a great video going into detail about it. According to this article, Horse Head Farms have just invested in building an auction house, possibly to sell off the IOUs they’ve acquired, so scummy CEOs could force you to work at their companies. Not to mention, their owners are incredibly sketchy, xBCrafted regularly tweets conspiracy theories and Hypnotizd invests in crypto
😵‍💫hypnotizd Follow
youre wrong actually, i have had nothing but brilliant service at Horse Head Farms. IOUs arent sketchy theyre normal pieces of paper. #shoptoday
🪲yeswingsforlife Follow
… you’re literally one of the owners
🐸cottagecoreliving Follow
to answer the original question, here’s a list of more reputable businesses that you can support instead!
Tays Trees
HIVE-DR8
Joe Hills’ Flower Stalls
Big Eyes
🥚dragon-tegg Follow
hey not to derail this post or anything but is anyone going to mention how OP literally fetishises slime hybrids???
( 7,067 notes )
Tumblr media
🌃elytramoments Follow
hate when i crashland in the lava biome
🐶renrobert Follow
you mean the nether
🌃elytramoments Follow
Tumblr media
i do not
#i think it’s a national park or something #idk its like this for miles #its near boatem
( 15.4k notes )
Tumblr media
👁️big-eyes Follow
This weekend at Big Eyes we are having a #SALE of up to 99% OFF! EVERY item has a discount! Don’t waste your diamonds, shop at Big Eyes!
😍sexy-papa-k Follow
sweetfaces! we are going into debt! please buy ❤️❤️💕❤️🍆😭😭😭❤️ -papa k
👁️big-eyes Follow
kerlais why woudl you reblog on that account
😍sexy-papa-k Follow
we need all the reach we can get bubbles! ❤️😝❤️❤️🍆💕 -papa k
( 14 notes )
2K notes · View notes
gems-addicted054 · 1 year
Text
❌❌❌SOLD OUT ❌❌❌
𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄: US$300/- for piece
𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄: Natural Emerald
𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓(𝐜𝐭): 4.90 Carat Approx
𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄(𝐦𝐦):
𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄(𝐬): 1
𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘: AAA
𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄: Oval
𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: None
𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍: Africa
𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄:
𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠: World Wide
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨𝐮𝐭: 𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐏𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝,
#aquamarine #gems #gemstones #DropShipGem #luxury #elite #collectible #minetomarket #starlanka #rare #naturalgems #gem #finegems #gemcutter
0 notes
thekims4 · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Y2K Aesthetic Lookbook #2
Hair 1, 2, 3 / Skin 1, 2, 3, 4 / Eyebrows / Eyes / Eyelids / Eyeliner / Blush / Lips
Clothing - Top
Puffer @bodybyvasquez
Micro Outfit (Jumper) @busra-tr
Zipper Cardigan @asansan3
Clothes Set-298 (Jumper) @busra-tr
Knit Sweater @babyetears
JC 02 Basic Jacket @seoulsoul-sims
Clothing - Bottom
Spring Casual Outfit Set - Skirt @rimings
Mina Mini Skirt @belaloallure3
Mini Skirt @chloem-sims4
DSEL Skirt @sunberry-sims4
Belted Long Denim Skirt @backtrack-cc
Acc
Button Octagonal Beret @eunosims
Airpods Max @miro-sims
Valentino VLogo Signature Squared Acetate Frame @bradfordsims
Zinare Earrings @suzuesims
Chalet Necklace @christopher067
Countdown Necklace @pralinesims
IVE - I AM Choker @rimings
Cheria Rings @pralinesims
Mia Rings @arethabee
Fingernails Polish 7V @magic-bot
Balenciaga Emo Bucket Bag @bergdorfverse
Goth Backpack @madlensims
Prada Re-Edition 2000 Mini Bag @bradfordsims
Classic Tights @magic-bot
In Bloom - Rosalie Tights @oydis
Monogram Tights @serenity-cc
Hyein Seo Long Pile Socks @charonlee
Shoes
Charm Duo Boots @madlensims
Dusk Diva Boots @madlensims
Leather Boots 633 @shakeproductions
Norae Loafer @mmsims
Pose
@helgatisha Hongzo @roselipaofficial
2K notes · View notes
gothyyy · 2 years
Note
goth rave club 🕺
that mixed with the really bright colors of my blog theme are definitely not too easy on the eyes
0 notes
thesunlounge · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
DYYU∩E - Nie usypiaj mnie (from WYYDMA, The Very Polish Cut Outs 2022)
12 notes · View notes
Text
ichi got them jojo eyes
10 notes · View notes
florencemtrash · 3 months
Text
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Two
Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warning: None :)
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
Tumblr media
“The sun’s barely gone down!” Cassian grumbled, following behind Helion, Rhysand, and Feyre as they walked the cobblestone streets of the Day Court. Every block of the small city contained at least two local bookstores, one cafe that also sold books, one flower shop that also sold books, and/or a small glass box filled with - as anyone could have guessed - more books to be given away for free. 
Helion chuckled, “You’re not in the Night Court any more. My people are early to bed, early to rise. Unless of course you spend a night with me.” He winked at Cassian, who had the sense to blush. Indeed the Night Court members had been shocked when the party cleared out not even two hours after the sun had slipped beneath the ground. 
Aside from the small scale bookstores which housed the most popular and recently published novels, every sector of the Day Court also had between one to three athenaeum’s - elaborate buildings of ivory stone laced with filigree and windows that lit up like the glowing eyes of an ancient beast. They were the pride and joy of all Day Court members. The windows flickered and shone with the magic used to protect the volumes from the sun. Even as the neighborhood lights slowly winked out, Azriel could track the diligent minds scouring the brightly lit shelves. There was a loving madness in their hunched backs, craned necks, and squinting eyes. 
As their troupe reached The Alcove, one of the smaller and cozier athenaeum’s, Azriel couldn’t help but imagine you in a similar display of passionate madness, when you forgot about the world around you and could actually relax.
The Alcove specialized in housing diaries and novels of everyday comforts - quiet, unassuming stories that could steal your heart as swiftly as the grandest tales of war and romance, but with much more discretion. Here, the knowledge pressed between pages with ink was full of warmth and subtlety. The others in your cohort had scorned you for your choice in The Alcove. Why would anyone choose such a dull place to live and work? Why not be surrounded by books on war tactics or history or religion or biology? Someplace useful and worthy of a Librarian’s gifts. But The Alcove had offered you something you’d missed since your mother’s death - a sense of home. 
You sat by the bay windows overlooking the darkened street below, breathing in the crisp and cool air that snuck in through the glass. On the other side of your apartment, a similar window overlooked The Alcove’s interior. Hundreds of mahogany shelves lined the high walls of the octagonal building with its signature domed roof. Grand staircases of gold twisted their way up from the ground, connecting to walkways that gave easier access to the volumes housed higher up the walls. 
It was a blessing in disguise that you’d chosen to sit on this side of your apartment. Otherwise you would have never seen the Shadowsinger watching you with careful consideration, his eyes faintly glowing like the eyes of a cat. He raised one gloved hand up at you in a wave, a solitary gesture as the rest of his companions and Helion walked towards the stairs that led up to your apartment entrance. 
He saw your mouth open in a shocked oh and couldn’t help the faintest smile gracing his lips as you disappeared from view.
“Oh shit.” You sprang up from your seat, eyes madly racing over the contents of your apartment. You were in the middle of a research project on magical signatures and your living space reflected the madness in your mind. Books lay open on the floor, on the desk, on the coffee table surrounded by carefully documented notes and half-scribbled ideas in equal measure. You wouldn’t be able to clean it up in time and, quite frankly, you had no interest in disrupting the chaotic organization. Did you really care about impressing the Night Court and Helion? 
The terrifying answer was, yes.
The dining room. 
It rarely saw use since you were disinclined to receive guests, and had more recently been repurposed to house stacks of romance novels… best not to let anyone see those… 
In the five minutes it took for Helion and the members of the Inner Circle to climb up the dozen flights of stairs, and knock on your door, you’d successfully managed to hide all the smutty romance books in your bedroom, throw a table cloth and candle on top of the dining table, put away the dried dishes that had been displaced on the kitchen countertops, and set a kettle on the stove. Was there anything more that could be done? 
Helion smiled brightly when you made your appearance, keeping the door slightly ajar to keep the worst of the living room out of sight. Perhaps this would be a short visit and they wouldn’t even ask to come inside.
“Y/n!” Helion said with a grin, “I present to you the Inner Circle of the Night Court.” He gestured with a grand flourish to some of the most beautiful fae you’d ever had the honor of witnessing.
“Some of us at least.” The High Lord’s voice was liquid honey and filled with enough charisma to seduce a nun.
“The most important ones.” The Lord of Bloodshed said with a boyish grin. The faint scar on his cheek pulled back with his smile.
“I’ll let Nesta know you said that.” The High Lady had swapped out her dress for a more simple pair of black slacks and a billowing shirt that cinched in at the waist, flowing over her body like smoke on water. 
“Wait, no. Feyre, I was only joking. Feyre-” 
She laughed, tipping her head back while her husband and mate looked on with a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t expected to see. It wasn’t the love that shocked you so much as the casualness of it. High Lords and Lady’s - from the limited experience you had reading about them in books - were either unreadable or such outrageous flirts they looked ready to jump into the bones of anything that could stand upright or lay down for long enough. Both methods were appropriate to hide their true feelings, but Rhysand and Feyre seemed to take another approach entirely. 
Helion coughed when you made no move to introduce yourself, still shell-shocked at the caliber of guests currently at your door, “And to the Inner Circle of the Night Court, I present Y/n Y/l/n. My dear friend and one of the most talented researchers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” 
“We’ve heard so much about you.” Feyre said, moving forward on instinct to embrace you. She stopped immediately when she saw you flinch back, but recovered quickly, smiling brightly, “My name is Feyre, and this is my mate Rhysand,” The High Lord tipped an imaginary hat, “And his brothers, Cassian and Azriel.” 
“It’s an honor to meet you.” You said politely.
“The honor is all ours.” Rhysand said. He held Feyre closer to his side, one hand ghosting close to her stomach in memory of the child that had grown there not even two years ago. “Helion told us everything you did. Our daughter is alive and well thanks to you, as is my mate.” 
You blinked in surprise. You didn’t know Helion had told them about that. 
“Oh um, it was a joint effort. My High Lord is too kind.” You said with a respectful dip of your head and all at once your manners flooded into your brain again, “Please, come in.” 
You sheepishly opened the door further, allowing the two High Lords and High Lady to grace your apartment. The Illyrians crossed the threshold last. Muscular, leathery wings rippled with power and prestige and it was incredible they managed to stay upright, let alone keep them from dragging on the floor. 
You made a mental note to revisit some old anatomy texts on winged fae. 
“I um,” You hurried to the kitchen, hearing the kettle start to screech, “I apologize. I wasn’t prepared for guests.” The screaming stopped and you remembered that you didn’t have any matching tea sets. 
You reached into the cupboards, face blushing at the assortment of novelty mugs you’d acquired over the years. Hardly fit for a children’s tea party let alone some of the most powerful fae to have ever existed. 
“There will be no apologies from you, tonight, my dear.” Helion said with a charming smile, “Not after we’ve barged into your home uninvited and taken over your dining table.”
From over the island you saw that Helion had already settled down at the table, the others following suit. Everyone except for the Shadowsinger. 
He lingered by the kitchen archway, keeping a respectful distance as you poured boiling water into the teapot over a mixture of chrysanthemum and rosehip. 
“Would you like any help?” He gestured to the tray now loaded with the teapot, cups, and a platter of biscuits that shook in your hands. 
“Oh,” You stared at his outstretched hand, soft black leather molded over graceful fingers. “No, that’s alright. I can do it. But thank you for offering.” You stood face to face with him, silently begging him with your eyes to move to the table with the others so you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of touching him.
His hand quickly dropped to his side, then slid behind his back. You caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masked it. 
“There are some cookies in the living room!” You said a little too loudly, “On top of the coffee table. If-if you wouldn’t mind bringing those-” The Shadowsinger was already gone on his mission and you breathed a sigh of relief. 
There were more books on the floor than swords on a battlefield. Azriel stepped over them gently, careful not to disturb the precarious arrangement. Books on anatomy, microbiology, human medicine, and magical theory flared outward, tracing the path of Y/n’s mind. Azriel walked it with wonder at the brilliance hidden within the midnight thoughts that had been spilled on paper, before being organized later on with a loving hand. Because that’s what this all spelled out to him - some chaotic, maddening love. He was almost jealous not to be on the receiving end of it… almost.
He saw the platter on the table, but ignored it for the pile of books by the windowsill. These ones were different from the rest. Older and more worn. The bindings were cracked and flexible after being read hundreds of times. He could even trace the faint outlines of your fingers on the leather bindings where natural oils had eaten away at the dye. 
He read over the titles and committed them to memory for no other reason than the fact that he liked things that had been well loved. 
“I made a mistake don’t-” 
Azriel straightened up, color washing over his cheeks as he turned to face you in a sea of paper and leather. 
Without thinking, he’d fallen into old habits of poking through people’s belongings. There was a reason Rhysand had made him Spymaster of the Night Court after all. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 
“Did you eat a cookie?” You blurted out in a panic. 
“No, no I didn’t.” 
Your shoulders dropped in relief, one hand brushing back your hair. Azriel caught sight of your ink stained fingertips, and the faint mark they left on your temple. 
“Oh thank the Mother.” You muttered under your breath, stealing a glance over your shoulder to the dining room where Helion was playing host in your stead and doing a far better job than you would have been capable of.
“Are they poisoned?” Azriel asked, but the joke fell flat upon seeing the horror in your face.
“No! No, that's not why-I should explain myself better. I would never dare try and poison you. Or anyone for that matter!” You scrunched your eyes shut, face burning brighter than the sun at noon.
I’m a fool. I’m making a fool of myself. He’s going to think I’m an absolute idiot. And right after Helion called me a gifted researcher. What a fucking lie.
Azriel, the blessing in disguise that he was, gave you a moment to collect yourself, pretending to find more interest in a volume on snake venom that was laid open on the ottoman. 
“A friend baked those for me.” You finally said. 
Azriel nodded, a faint smile gracing his face and it caught you off guard. He was beautiful, there was no doubting it so long as you had eyes. What had surprised you was the faint slivers of warmth behind the facade of the cold, brooding Shadowsinger. It was… surprisingly comforting to be standing in a room with him, just the two of you. It was certainly better than the party you’d unceremoniously winnowed out of earlier that day.
“I would never hold it against you if you wanted to save those for yourself.”
Your lips twisted in disgust, “Oh gods no, Cherp is a terrible cook.”
“Cherp?”
“He’s another Librarian I know.” Probably the closest thing to a friend I have. But you weren’t about to tell the Shadowsinger that. “He specializes in chemistry and food history.”
“He’s a food historian?”
“Yes.”
“And yet he’s a terrible cook?” The Shadowsinger tilted his head to the side. 
The corner of your mouth tipped up, “The worst.”
“How is that possible?”
You gave it a thought, eyes darting around the walls like the answer was hidden behind paint, “Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, um,” You weren’t sure what to call him.
“Azriel. Call me, Azriel.”
“Azriel.” You said, testing out the shape of his name. You liked it.
“Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, Azriel?”
He cocked his head to the side, “I do not.”
“Thousands, Azriel. Thousands. If I told you to bake a cake with an egg, would you know I meant a chicken egg?” This time you didn’t wait for an answer, “Because you’d be surprised how quickly facts we consider ‘common knowledge’ disappear. Will people know we meant chicken eggs 1 million years from now? Perhaps not! All this to say that when Cherp follows recipes, he usually doesn’t have the knowledge to make it correctly and they turn out bland at best, inedible and poisonous at worst.” 
Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, prompting you to explain further, “He once spent ten years researching the evolution of average spoon sizes because so many of his recipes were measured in spoonfuls.”
Azriel smirked, “Is this what you academics get yourselves so worried about?”
You couldn’t tell if he was ridiculing you or not, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes said he wasn’t. “Well we...among other things, yes, I suppose that is something we concern ourselves with…” 
“Y/n!” Helion called from the other room, “Stop romancing the Shadowsinger and join us at the table. It’s a futile effort. I’ve been trying for centuries.” 
Your face turned a brighter shade of red as you watched Azriel pick his way through the empty spots on the floor. You pressed yourself against the wall to let him pass, a fact that didn’t escape his notice. And when he took a seat at the table, you ignored the unoccupied seat next to him, preferring to stand behind the island like a woodland creature ready to dive into their den at a moment’s notice. 
His lips flattened. He’d hoped to make you more comfortable around him after the disastrous events at the party, going so far as to hide the shadows that were clamoring for release. He should’ve known better than to assume one conversation about the historical accuracy of egg recipes would make that discomfort go away.  
From your island you tossed pleasantries back and forth like it was a game. But you couldn’t help the stiffness in your posture, the hesitation in your voice when they asked you about your life.
“I’m a Librarian.” You’d first answered, as if it were all that needed to be said. But they pressed onwards, tried to make you laugh. Cassian, especially, liked to poke fun, and despite your best efforts, you laughed. 
“All these libraries would make Nesta go feral. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”
“What kind of books does she like to read?” You asked, refilling the kettle as the cloudy sky outside darkened into a rich purple-black.
Cassian coughed, face turning red, “Romance.” He answered simply.
“Smutty romance.” The High Lord said, punching Cassian in the arm. His face turned redder.
“Lucky you,” Helion said with a wink that had Feyre bursting out into laughter. It was no secret that Helion had added Nesta onto his list of fae he’d one day like to have in his bed.
“There is an athenaeum that specializes in romance, and there’s no shortage of those sorts of novels… if you’re interested.” You said, hiding your face behind a sip of tea. 
“And how would you know about that?” Feyre asked teasingly. 
“I… am a Librarian. I know-I know things.” You sputtered unconvincingly. “I went once. Purely for research purposes.” 
Azriel gave her a look, a look that said he somehow knew of the eight raunchy books that graced your bedside table and had been well-read indeed.
As the conversation evolved to less embarrassing topics, you were struck by the fact that you were actually enjoying yourself. It was a far cry from the parties that you’d previously been invited to. There was an ease to the Inner Circle. A familial love that flowed off them as easy as water off a whetstone. It was something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.
Azriel noticed when you fell silent, your mind carried away to more sobering thoughts than Cassian’s most recent travels to the Human Lands. Feyre noticed as well and made her surprise at the time look natural and unscripted.
“Day Court members are early to bed and early to rise aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve taken up so much of your time.” She said, gently pulling Rhysand up with her as she stood. 
“No, not at all. Thank you for coming. I-I hope your daughter is doing well.” Was that an appropriate thing to say? Perhaps it was too threatening to comment on the wellbeing of a High Lord and High Lady’s child. But Feyre didn’t find any fault with that, a glassy look sliding over her eyes as Mor let Feyre into her mind so she could look at little Velaria dozing away in her aunt’s arms back home.
“She’s getting to be more and more of a handful everyday.”
“I wonder where she gets that from?” Cassian chimed in, throwing Rhysand a look as they collected their coats and slowly made their way over to the front door.
Rhysand threw his hand to his chest in indignation, “I was practically an angel.” 
Cassian snorted, “More like the devil.” 
Feyre rolled her eyes, shuffling the pair out the door into the still night. 
Azriel once again lingered behind, the last to leave behind Helion. He stepped out into the night-chilled air, the edges of him disappearing like the darkness had come to reclaim him. 
“It was lovely to meet you, Y/n, the Librarian.” He said, dipping into a shallow bow.
“It was lovely to meet you, Azriel…the Shadowsinger.” 
He smiled shyly, then froze, the smile slipping off his face into a look of shock. You glanced over your shoulder, missing the explosion of shadows that spilled out from him. 
You leapt back upon feeling their cool touch wrapping around you. There was a curiosity to the way they wound themselves through your hair and got tangled up in the folds of your dress. But thankfully, they carried no memories with them. No feelings but a faint relief and comfort that washed over you and gave you back your breath. For the first time in years you were experiencing a touch that you could handle. A touch that was stillness and peace.
“Is everything alright?” You finally looked back at Azriel, his eyes blown open and panicked.
He was not a man of many words. Never had been, never would be. But he wished he could speak everything on his mind. 
You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re the one I’ve been waiting over 500 hundred years for. 
But when he saw the concern in your eyes, the gentle tilt of your head that exposed the curve of your neck, he knew it wasn’t the time.
“I-I have to go.” 
This time it was his turn to disappear. He swallowed his words, forced down the bond that now burned in his chest with the light of a thousand suns, and fled past the shocked faces of his family members before shooting off into the night sky.
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
______________
Author's Note:
Does this batboy deserve a nerdy mate to tease and have fun with? Yes. I will take no criticism (just kidding if you have thoughts about how my writing is, let me know, just be kind and respectful about it).
Love,
Florence B.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 2@auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalaluch @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt
720 notes · View notes
harrelltut · 10 months
Text
1968 HIM [MICHAEL]… the 2023 American PENTAGON's Secret [MAPS] Black [Clandestine] 1949... $9 Trillion Dollar Humanoid 9 Ether [HE] ANUNNAQI [HA = HARRELL] MAN [KING] from 1921… Now Worth QUADRILLIONS @ the Ægiptian QUANTUM HARRELL TECH [QHT] OCTAGON’s Highly Official... U.S. Ægiptian [HOUSE] Deutsch IGIGI SKY Department of SIRIUS Black [Clandestine] Astronomical [CA] MOON Employment [ME] Budgets… of MOOR Underground [MU] Eclipse [ME = MOORISH EMPIRE] Military Defense SKY WEAPONS on Earth [WE] from 2223
IMMORTAL U.S. MILITARY KING SOLOMON-MICHAEL HARRELL, JR.™
Tumblr media
ommmmm
Tumblr media
eye engineer the pentagon
Tumblr media
the outdated $6 million android man has been decommissioned by the pentagon's black budget military 4 anu golden 9 ether [mage] $9 trillion dollar man worth quadrillions in gold & silver reserves
Tumblr media
not the pentagon's black [clandestine] military budget for the advanced study of our ancient 9 ether hi:tekemeticompu_tah [ptah] anunnaqi [pa] dna from the future of our past lives in 2023?!?!?!
Tumblr media
eye got our ancient 9 ether anunnagi family patented fingerprinting dna chip [d.c.] tech!!!
Tumblr media
Eye Patented [I/P] & Internationally Monetized [I'M] My Own Ancient 9 Ether Anunnagi DNA [A.D.] Technology [ADT]
Tumblr media
wtf??? eye manufactured my own neuro brain melanin intel [mi = michael]?!?!?!
Tumblr media
oh law'd!!! eye robot!!!
Tumblr media
look at my illuminated computerized blaq & gold DNA of ancient anunnagi intelligences [a.i.]!!!
Tumblr media
him [michael] anu golden 9 ether [mage] humanoid anunnaqi [ha = harrell] machine?!?!?!
Tumblr media
him [michael] original 6g militarization technocrat of quantum harrell tech [qht] llc
Tumblr media
my new 2024 world order [nwo] ain't on boring 2023 tv
Tumblr media
no theories... no illuminati conspiracies... all ancient 9 ether aluhum anunnagi scientific dna/rna facts
Tumblr media
we not genetically created equally... therefore, you are not my genetic equal
Tumblr media
him [michael] strange [unique] alien [anunnaqi]
Tumblr media
eye govern my international 144,000 interplanetary 9 ether [i9] military empire [me] like a secret underground pharmaceutical drug cartel [d.c.] of america
Tumblr media
we from the skies
Tumblr media
ægiptian quantum harrell tech [qht] octagon hq.
Tumblr media
moors king me [michael]!!!
1 note · View note
thepixelelf · 8 months
Text
ah! love - 2
Tumblr media
genres: married life au, family au, fluff, comedy [best friends to lovers?] relationship: husbands 95 line x reader (feat. baby doremi line) words: 3.4k warnings and notes: mentions of alcohol; coarse language. y'all wanted more and so did I. any stuff in this au will likely not be chronological. I literally had to think about how to tell a kid they're adopted for this it sucked. (I still love it)
ah! love masterlist
Seungkwan learns a new word.
Tumblr media
Seungkwan, like all other five (and a half!) year-olds, knows everything.
He knows how to cook eggs and how many sides an octagon has. He knows to always ask papa Jeonghan for extra sweets because he's the only one who ever says yes after you've said no. (His other parents also say yes, sometimes, if you've left the room, but Jeonghan is always the fastest to cave.) He knows Chan is a baby who doesn't know anything. 
And he knows he and Vernon are The Twins.
Because when it's time for dinner, and Seungkwan is playing with Vernon in their room, papa Joshua always asks you, "Can you grab the twins?"
When papa Seungcheol comes home from (well, hm, maybe Seungkwan doesn't know everything) wherever he goes when they go to kindergarten, he kisses you on the cheek in the entryway, kicks off his shoes, then crouches down, arms open and awaiting for Seungkwan and Vernon to barrel into them, and growls happily, "There are my twins!" 
And when he found you in the kitchen one night, while you were sitting on the counter (which is not allowed!!), with papa Jeonghan standing between your legs for reasons unclear to Seungkwan, you both looked surprised. Seungkwan concluded this was because papa Jeonghan had just whispered, "The twins are asleep," and Seungkwan was, in fact, not. 
Which is why he scoffs at the older girl who came up to him and Vernon on the playground. Vernon is busy building his sand tunnels, but the girl has Seungkwan's full attention.
"You are not twins," she says.
"Yes we are."
She is unrelenting. "No. My big brothers are twins, and they look exactly the same."
Seungkwan looks over at Vernon, who's now mixing wet sand and dry sand into a big ol' pile of sand soup. They don't look alike at all, he knows. His hair is black, and Vernon's is brown. His cheeks are rounder — sometimes you pretend to bite into them before planting a kiss — while Vernon's are a bit pinker.
"We are twins," Seungkwan says again, because maybe not all twins are like her big brothers. Maybe some twins are like him and Vernon.
Besides, his papas say they're twins. Why wouldn't they be?
The girl crosses her arms. "My big brothers have the same birthday."
Seungkwan is about to bite back, say something like maybe not all twins have the same birthday, meanie! but Vernon waves his hand in the air, yelling out, "Ms Han!" 
Their teacher comes over, bending and putting her hands on her knees as she asks Vernon what's going on.
He points at the girl. "She's saying we're not twins because we don't have the same birthday."
"Oh." Ms Han scratches the back of her neck, "Well, sweetie, the thing is…"
Jeonghan's shaky eyes glance at the rear-view mirror again, half checking for cars and half checking up on the babies in the back seat.
Seungkwan has been quiet the entire eight minutes they've been driving, which might be normal if he was any kindergartner other than Seungkwan. Vernon can get talkative too, but right now he's completely silent, immersed in squishing and un-squishing his favourite toy — a plushie shaped like a baked bean (Jeonghan has no idea where you found that thing or why Vernon is obsessed with it) — between his tiny fingers. 
Of course, Jeonghan had to be the one on pick-up duty the day one of their teachers finally gave them the whole, you may have to explain adoption talk. 
"So," he says, awkward, trying to smile. "How was school?"
Vernon squeezes his toy again. "It was," he says, and nothing else.
God, Jeonghan needs backup.
As soon as Jeonghan pulls up to the house, unbuckles the twins from their booster seats, and ushers them inside, Vernon pulls off his shoes and dashes into the house — to you, Jeonghan is sure. Vernon doesn't play favourites except that he does.
Seungkwan, though, looks up at Jeonghan and tugs his pant leg, saying, "Papa Shua wants to talk to you in his room."
Which isn't true, of course; Seungkwan hasn't been all of thirty seconds in the house, and Joshua isn't even home, out on an errand. But Jeonghan can take a social cue, even if it is from a five year old. As he climbs the stairs, he pulls out his phone and messages the guys to try to come home as soon as they can.
You're reading to Chan on the living room couch, him tucked under your left arm and a quiet Vernon who's wormed his way under your right arm clutching your shirt like you're both afloat in open water, when Seungkwan walks up, climbs onto your lap, (shoving the book out of the way in the process,) and presses his face into your stomach. He mumbles something you can't quite hear.
You chuckle, bringing a hand up to run over his soft hair. "What's that, baby?"
Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyelids low with the gaze of a war-hardened veteran. "They're lying," he says, no nonsense in sight.
Your hand pauses. "Huh?"
"We gotta leave. They lied. Could be lying about anything."
You try to smile past the confusion. "What do you mean?"
Seungkwan, sweet, adorable, chubby-cheeked Seungkwan whom you love with all your heart, fists the material of your top in both his hands, growling in a way you somehow know is protective. 
"We gotta get outta here."
⭒-⭒-⭒
"Please get me out of here."
Joshua snorted at your plea, his voice soft and teasing through the phone. “What happened to ‘living out your twenties’?”
You let your eyes roam over your surroundings — a house party (a frat one in particular, you were pretty sure) with flashing coloured lights, late 2000’s top 40 songs, and what must've been over a hundred drunken 18-22 year olds. A haze hung in the air that smelled like the unholy combination of cotton candy, root beer, green apple, and skunk. A younger friend you’d made at your internship had invited you, but they were nowhere to be seen.
“I take it back,” you said, walking through the house in search of your friend. “I’m old now. I’m a hermit.”
“You’re not old.”
You scoffed. “You’re only saying that because you don’t wanna admit you’re old.”
“No, I’m serious,” Joshua argued, though you could tell he was smiling as he spoke. “We’re only like a quarter of the way through our lives— there’s still so much ahead.”
“Okay Socrates, whatever.” You pulled your phone away from your ear when you felt it vibrate. Your friend answered your last message, telling you they were heading home to take care of another friend they trust, and that they’d text you when they got there. “I’m just trying to get out of here so I can go home, steep a nice cup of decaf tea, and, I dunno, take up knitting or something. Granny style.”
Some shuffling happened on the other end of the line, and you thought you heard Joshua say something, but not to you.
“Anyway,” you sighed, winding your way through the crowd to finally leave that steam room of a house party. “I just called to complain. I’m gonna call a taxi.”
“Don’t bother. I’m on my way.”
You paused, your hand on a stair railing. “What?”
“I’m coming to pick you up,” Joshua spoke with all the nonchalance of someone ordering coffee.
Glancing at your phone screen, you countered with, “It’s almost midnight.”
“Yeah, well, I’m already driving, so it’d actually be more inconsiderate of you to tell me to turn around if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Joshua…”
"Shush," he tutted. "Just stay on the line with me until I get there. And drink some water if you can." There was a pause as you heard noises through the phone. Joshua added, "But only if you find a sealed water bottle, or pour the water yourself."
You finally reached the front entrance, content to wait outdoors for your unexpected ride since the weather wasn't too bad. "Do I sound drunk to you?"
"You didn't drink?"
"I mean, I had one," you said with a shrug he couldn't even see. 
"Well maybe that explains why you're not having a good time."
"You're such a bad influence, Shua."
"Saying that to your designated driver is so rude, just so you know."
"I didn't ask you to DD!"
Joshua sighed playfully. "Yeah, yeah. As if you don't know we'd do anything for you."
Mouth open, you fumbled with what words to say in your head.
Did you know that? Maybe you did.
You knew that if you and Joshua had switched places, you would've done exactly the same thing he was doing now.
And why did he say "we"?
Before you could vocalize anything, Joshua said, "I see you. Turn around."
And there it was— Joshua's tiny, bright blue hatchback, affectionately dubbed the Blueberry by you and your three boys.
Speaking of whom…
"Jeonghan?" You blinked at the man in the passenger seat when he rolled down the window.
"Hey, devil," he let the nickname fall from his lips with a smirk. It was a new one, this moniker for you, his payback for you jokingly calling him an angel. He jerked his head in a gesture towards the back seat. "We're busting you out of this joint."
You huffed out a laugh at his joke, yanking open the back door of the Blueberry. Immediately, a pair of large, grabby hands pulled you inside. "Whoa— Seungcheol, you too?"
Too tired apparently to answer with words, Seungcheol only nodded, reaching over your shoulder to take your seatbelt, extend it over you, and buckle it in. He settled back down in the middle seat rather than the more spacious one on the other side of the car. Closing his eyes and crossing his arms, he relaxed his entire body and let his head fall onto your shoulder, all without a word.
"Were you asleep?" you asked him quietly as Joshua pulled away from the curb.
Seungcheol just breathed in deeply and leaned more of his weight on you.
"Guys…" You turned your attention to the two boys in front. "You didn't have to drag him along too. Did you wake him up for this?"
Joshua scoffed. "As if. You think I'd poke a sleeping bear on purpose?"
Twisting in his seat to face you, Jeonghan smiled in that sweet yet devious way you like so much. "He was worried about you all night, devil. Paced around the apartment for two hours, going on and on about 'kids these days' before he tired himself out and zonked on the couch. We tried to leave quietly, but he woke up and insisted on coming once he found out it was you on the phone."
"Oh," you said at the same time you thought you heard Seungcheol mumble, "Shut up."
You softly patted Seungcheol's arm, your fingers brushing against his with the way his hands were wrapped around his own biceps. "You know I can take care of myself, right?"
Seungcheol didn't answer, as you should've expected. Eyes still closed, he just flexed his fingers to hook one around your pinky and keep your hand where it was.
Meeting your eyes in the rear-view mirror, Joshua said, "We'd better get him home before he actually falls asleep back there. No way am I carrying him up the stairs."
"What do ya say, devil?" Jeonghan prompted. "Sleepover at ours?"
You smiled. "How could I ever say no to you guys?"
⭒-⭒-⭒
"Seungkwan," you say softly, a little bit confused and a little bit amused. "Who's lying?"
He sits up on your lap and cups both his hands around his mouth, only to not-really-whisper, "Parents."
"Me?" You point at yourself.
"Nooooooo!" Seungkwan whines with a pout, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Our other parents!"
You think about how Jeonghan was the one who went to pick up the boys from kindergarten... and how he's nowhere in sight now. "Papa Jeonghan is lying?"
Seungkwan nods emphatically, and to your surprise, Vernon nods too at your side. Chan sits in rapt attention of his older brother, who is probably blowing his four year old mind.
"And papa Shua," Seungkwan adds. "And papa Seungcheol."
You furrow your brows and tilt your head. "What are they lying about?"
"They said we are twins," Seungkwan finally reveals, and it starts to dawn on you. His words become frantic, voice wavering. "But Ms Han said we can't be twins because we have different birthdays, so we can't be twins bio-- bio--" He hiccups. "--logically."
"That's a big word," you say, because it's a struggle to respond with anything else right away. What-- Ms Han is teaching biology now?
Vernon gets out from under your arm and sits on his knees beside you on the couch. He holds up his hand for a high five. "Biologically."
Still a bit shocked, you high five him, then Seungkwan when he also puts his hand up. To be fair, that's what you do when they learn new, long words. The tears brimming in Seungkwan's eyes shouldn't deter learning encouragement, right?
"That's why we gotta go." Seungkwan sniffles. "Maybe they lie to you also. Maybe they are not biologically your husbands!"
God-- the parenting books don't teach shit like this.
"Seungkwan..." you start, though you don't know how to form the next sentence.
Vernon takes your hand and wraps all his tiny fingers around it. "Let's run away," he says with a determined nod, like a secret lover in a fairy tale.
Chan's eyes widen, and he throws himself around your middle. "I gonna save you!"
"Boys-- Wait--"
The front door bursts open to reveal a dishevelled Seungcheol. His hair is wild and fluffy, his tie loosened, and his suit jacket is in his hand rather than worn. He's barely thrown his shoes off by the time he catches sight of Seungkwan's teary eyes and your slightly-panicked expression. Immediately, he jogs towards the couch in, to you, obvious concern. "What's going on--"
But before he can get too close, Seungkwan lets out a terrified, demon-like shriek. He picks up the closest item -- the storybook you'd been reading to Chan -- and chucks it as hard as he can towards your husband.
It only hits the floor at Seungcheol's feet, but it causes him to freeze. He gawks at the book, then raises his head to look at you and the way your boys have all wrapped their little arms as tight as they can around whatever parts of you they can reach, their heads tucked in, hiding.
You can see it in his eyes-- him registering that they're scared of him.
"I--" His expression tightens, lips pressing together to stop from quivering.
From seemingly nowhere, Jeonghan appears, putting a comforting hand on Seungcheol's arm and pulling him out of the room. He whispers, "Let's give them a minute."
Both your husbands make eye contact with you as you tentatively hug your sons, and you nod, silently letting them know that you'll be okay.
("What the hell was that?" Seungcheol whispers harshly as soon as he and Jeonghan make it upstairs. "You said to come home ASAP-- I thought someone got hurt!"
Jeonghan crosses his arms. "Why wouldn't I just say someone was hurt?"
"You have got to be clearer in your texts.")
"Seungkwan." You readjust your body, trying not to jostle your sons too much. "Seungkwan, baby, can you look at me please?"
He lifts his head to meet your eyes.
"Did Ms Han tell you what 'biologically' means?"
Seungkwan's face scrunches up as he tries to find an answer to your question, and in that moment, Vernon sits up. "Real," he says.
"Now, that's not quite right," you tell them, and at that, all three of your boys look at you for an explanation. "A 'biological parent' is one of two people who made a baby, and that is their 'biological child."
The boys stay quiet, taking in the information. Thank goodness-- you don't want to have to skirt around the topic of "making" children.
"Biological twins," you continue, "are when two babies are made together, at the same time. Which is why they have the same birthday."
"We are not twins," Vernon reaffirms.
"That's right."
Seungkwan frowns. "Why do you call us 'the twins'?"
"It's just a nickname, sweetie. You and Vernon were born in the same year, and you do everything together, so for me and your other parents, you are kind of like twins." You smile. "Do you want us to stop calling you that? It's okay if you don't like it."
Putting a hand on his chin, Seungkwan ponders seriously for more than a few seconds.
"You can always change your mind at any time, okay?" you say, and he nods, continuing to think.
Chan tugs at your sleeve, and you turn to him. "Are you bio...ly marry?"
You chuckle. "No. Marriage is a little different-- your papas and I decided we wanted to be a family, so we chose each other, and to stay together. And now..." You boop Chan's nose, then Seungkwan's then Vernon's. "...you boys are part of our family, too."
Vernon perks up. "Did you choose us too?"
"Yup." You reach up a hand to ruffle through his brown hair. "And you know what? That makes you special. I may not be your biological parent, but I chose you three to be my sons, and I love you so much. That makes me your parent, don't you think?"
All three boys nod, Vernon still beaming, and Chan's hands clutching your sleeve. Seungkwan relaxes in your lap.
You hear the sound of the front door opening again, and, much slower than the last person, Joshua enters the house with two bags full of groceries. Chan pushes himself off you and slides off the couch to run towards Joshua, bouncing in front of him with his arms in the air. "Uppies."
Without a second beat, Joshua puts down the grocery bags on the bench by the door and scoops Chan into his arms. He walks up to the couch. "I just got Jeonghan's text. What's going on?"
You just smile and shake your head, taking one of Seungkwan's and Vernon's hands in each of yours. "And you know your papas love you more than anything too, right?"
While the boys nod, Joshua just blinks, totally lost. Chan hugs him tighter.
"I bet Seungcheol is a little bit sad about how you guys acted when he got home--"
Seungkwan pouts and drops his head. "I'm sorry..."
You squeeze his hand. "You don't have to be sorry, baby." You tighten your hand around Vernon's as well. "Either of you. You didn't understand something and it made you scared. That's okay. But now Seungcheol might not understand something, so we should help him, right?"
"How?" Vernon asks.
You tap your chin and look upwards, pretending to think. "Hmmm... How about we go upstairs and give him a biiiiiig hug!"
It turns out to be a great idea, because you find Seungcheol in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking desolate. Seungkwan and Vernon climb him like monkeys, though, and they wrap themselves around him, press kisses to his face, and as soon as you mouth to Seungcheol that you'll explain later, all is right in the world again.
There's no brighter a smile on Cheol's face than when he's with his sons.
You stand, watching, with your arms crossed, satisfied with the scene until Jeonghan comes up and stands next to you, mimicking your stance. You swat at his arm, to which he reacts with such a pained facial expression, you'd think you just cut it off.
"I cannot believe you abandoned me to deal with that on my own!"
"Hey! I called for backup, didn't I?"
You roll your eyes. "A load of good that did."
"Aw, c'mon, devil..." Jeonghan slides closer to you, then wraps his arms around you and leans in to press his lips to your cheek. "Can I kiss it better?"
Joshua watches you and the twins run into Seungcheol's room with no further explanation, and he turns his attention to the youngest in his arms. "You wouldn't happen to know what's going on, would you?"
Chan shakes his head. "I'm four."
"Right."
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
13uswntimagines · 3 months
Text
The Come Down (Alessia Russo X MMA fighter!R)
Tumblr media
R is a very popular MMA fighter, and Alessia sees the parts of you that other people don't. Shes the one who gets to put you back together again after a tough fight.
Warnings: D/S undertones but no smut.
Author's note: This was super fun to write and i hope you enjoy it. Feel free to hit me up with ideas and comments and stuff.
You sighed, leaning your head against the stone walls of the Emirates tunnel, letting it soothe the twinges that always lingered after a long flight.
It was masochistic, but the ache that lingered the day after a war in the Octagon was always one of your favorite feelings, especially if you won. It helped you to compartmentalize the parts of yourself. It helped you separate the completely in-control fighter, the stone-cold monster that didn’t give a fuck about her opponents, and the human that lingered underneath. 
It was hard to punch a man until he was unconscious if you thought about how human he was. If you pictured his family and his life as anything other than an opponent for you to run through. But you never wanted that part of yourself to exist anywhere other than in the cage. 
The throb in your muscles and ache in your cuts helped you lock that part of yourself away. It helped you keep your grip on reality in all of the post-fight hormones until you could get to the grounding force that was your girlfriend. 
The post-fight come-down was always difficult for you, especially after a 5 round back and forth battle like the one you had just fought. 
You loved your job, you really did, but it was so easy to… lose yourself. To get lost in the anger of the UFC universe and the vitriol of your opponents. To get lost in the cycle of Training, listening to a man tell you he was going to destroy you at press conferences, cutting weight and beating the ever-living fuck out of someone while people cheered. 
Just being in the same building as Alessia had set you at ease, and watching her score 2 against Chelsea was even better. 
But the sound of the crowd had started to set you on edge. The way they erupted when your face, black eye, stitched gash on your cheek curving up to your forehead and all, appeared on the Jumbotron after your girlfriend’s PK had you clenching your teeth. It egged on the thoughts of murdering the keeper that had taken her out swirling in your brain, along with the desire to demolish the player who had so callously stepped on her teammate after a play. 
It was why you escaped to the tunnel, to gain some form of control over your thoughts. 
Maybe flying out as soon as you had been cleared by the medics wasn’t such a good idea, but you couldn’t stand being away from Alessia any longer than you had to be. You couldn’t stand being away from the comfort, love, and… safety she offered you. 
God, you sounded like a psycho. 
Or a submissive nearing the end of her rope.
6 weeks apart from your girlfriend was really doing a number on you. 
“Ay bruiser, fancy meeting you here,” Katie said, appearing in front of you with a wide smile. 
You flashed a toothy grin at the Irishwoman, ignoring the way it pulled at the stitches holding your cheek together. “Maccabe, always a pleasure,” 
She caught your arm. “That was one hell of a fight. Thought Less was gonna break my hand during the third round,”
You grimaced. 
The third round was the only one your opponent won. He had caught you with a big overhand right, opening the gash on your cheek and knocking you on your ass in the last 15 seconds of the round. The knees he had followed it up with to your side hadn’t been fun either. He had almost finished you, and you knew it had to be hard for the team and your girlfriend to watch. 
“My hand dipped when I tried to close the distance,”
It really was a game of inches, and he had certainly taken advantage of your small mistake. It was ok, you had gotten him in the end anyway. 
Katie made a sound of agreement, glancing at the tunnel behind you. “Certainly made us all nervous, but I’m happy you took his head off, even if it took you until the last 30 seconds of the fight,” 
She made a little kicking movement with her leg like a semi-recreation of the head kick you had used to end the fight. 
“Didn’t want to rush it,” You shrugged, nodding to the Arsenal girls as they passed you, unable to help the way you automatically searched each face for your girlfriend. 
“Ya missus is still signing for a couple of kids,” She gestured over her shoulder, a knowing smile still playing at her lips. “I can take you to her if you want?”
You shook your head. “I’ll wait here. I’m in no hurry,” 
You also didn’t think you could deal with the sounds of the crowd when your head was still pounding, a consequence of taking a flight with a concussion against doctor's orders you supposed, and you ached every time you took a step, every time you inhaled too deeply really. 
Katie’s eyes softened when she saw the emotions flit across your features. “Come on, let's go to the locker room instead. It’s away from prying eyes,”
She tugged your hand. You let her lead you deeper into the tunnel and into a room filled with wooden cubbies. 
It was nice to let your brain turn off, to just… follow along and allow someone else to lead you. 
“Hey champ,” Leah smiled at you as Katie deposited you in what you assumed was Alessia’s locker. “That was one hell of a fight last night,”
“Thanks,” You winked at the defender. “You guys had a fantastic game too,” 
“I’m not sure a football match compares to a man trying to punch you in the face,” Steph said, glancing at you from her spot near Lottie. 
You made a low sound in the back of your throat, feeling the tightness return to your chest. “But I don’t have people stepping on me after the bell,” 
“But you do end up covered in blood,” Kyra chirped. “We don’t have to worry about that usually,” 
“Most of the time it’s not mine,” You muttered, leaning further into your girlfriend's locker. Her perfume lingered in the cubby, and you let it soothe the frayed edges of your nerves.
You didn’t want to think about fighting. About the person. The savage. you were in the octagon. You toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt sleeve. It was slightly too long because it really belonged to Alessia. She had given it to you before fight week. 
It helped, but it wasn’t her. 
It hadn’t been enough after the fight, and it wasn’t enough now. 
You didn’t think you could wait much longer, but you didn’t have to. 
“The stadium is buzzin,” Alessia said slightly breathlessly, stepping through the locker room door. 
You were immediately on your feet, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Less,” 
A grin instantly broke across her face, and she crossed the room in 3 long strides. Her arms wrapped around you, and without thinking you buried your face in her chest. 
It made the gash on your cheek sting and the tender skin of your jaw ache, but you didn’t care, pressing yourself as tightly to her as you could. She shifted, her nails running over your back with one hand as the other cupped the back of your neck. 
It was gentle, and grounding, and everything that you craved. 
“Hey baby girl,” She breathed into your hair, her voice dipping just a little and sending a shudder down your spine. 
She was like a ray of sunshine, always warm and sweet. It was why none of the fans would ever speculate about the positions that the two of you held in your relationship. They joked that she was too soft to be a dominant, but the people who understood how your relationship worked could see that her mix of firmness and warmth was exactly what you needed. 
She waited for you to pull away first, just enough to meet her eyes. “Hey,”
She leaned in and placed a careful kiss on your lips. “I’ll shower and then we can go, yeah?”
You deflated, your fingers tangling more tightly in her jersey. You didn’t want to let her go, even if it was just for a second. 
“You can come with me,” She said, a knowing look in her eyes. “And tell me all about fight week,” 
“Ok,” You agreed, only loosening your grip long enough for her to grab her shower bag and change of clothes, before you latched back on, holding the hem of her jersey tightly as she led you towards the showers. 
You felt a bit like a child, clinging to her, but she was like a buoy keeping you from drowning in the sea of your rocky emotions, and now that she was close to you, you couldn’t let her go. You were afraid that if you did, you would lose your grip on reality. 
The warm, wet air of the shower helped too. 
It reminded you of your post-fight routine. 
Win or lose you would stand under the hot steam of the stadium, washing off the blood and sweat from the octagon until your coaches pulled you out. It was part of the routine that you had skipped since the docs wanted to stitch your cheek as soon as you were out of eyeshot of the fans. 
Then you had felt so… off balance that you raced through a cold shower and hopped on a plane to get to your girlfriend as quickly as possible. You didn’t even stay for the post-fight press conference. 
“Come on love,” She said, pulling you into one of the stalls, sliding the first curtain shut behind the two of you, and bringing her face inches from yours. 
Her hand very gently cupped your cheek, mindful of the dark bruises that littered the skin, tilting your chin up. Her eyes searched you for a long moment like she was reading your mind. Like she was deciding what you needed from her. 
Her pointer finger very gently followed the long cut that ran under your left cheek, up to your temple, and just above your eyebrow. “I thought they usually put a bandage over stitches,”
Your eyes darted away from her. “I didn’t like the way it pulled at my skin,”
“I think you’d like it less if you got an infection,” She deadpanned, using her thumb to tilt your chin up further as she stepped into your space. “You wouldn’t be able to fight,” 
“But the scar would be worth it,” You shrugged, using all of your strength to muster up fake nonchalance. 
Her lip quirked upward. “Would it?”
You let your own smile morph into a playful smirk, despite the tremendous effort it took. “Chicks dig girls with scars,” 
“I think you’ve got enough of those, cheeky,” She hummed, leaning in and brushing the thick line that lived on the underside of your jaw with her nose. “I like it more when you come out without a scratch on you or a hair out of place,” 
You hummed, leaning back on the stall wall as her lips replaced her nose on your jaw, her teeth grazing the delicate skin as she made her way down the column of your throat and back up. 
Her hips pressed into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall, her thumbs insistent under your chin, keeping your head tilted up as her tongue slid pleasantly against your own. 
You sighed into the kiss, your fingers twisting into the material of her jersey, trying to pull her closer. 
Her thigh flexed between your legs, pressing into you, and you couldn’t help the way your hips rolled down to meet her. 
Or the wince that broke the kiss when the 
movement pulled uncomfortably at your ribs. 
“Babe?” 
You whined as she pulled away, blinking open to meet her burning blue eyes. 
“I’m ok,” You said breathlessly, trying to lean back up to kiss her. 
Her hand on your chest stopped you, as did the perfect arch of her eyebrow that screamed yeah right. 
Her fingers traced down your chest to the hem of your shirt. They crept under your top, meeting the tape wrapped heavily across your abdomen instead of smooth skin. 
Her eyes widened when she pulled up your sweatshirt, revealing the thick white bandages wrapped tightly across your stomach. 
“Want to try again love?” She asked, finally looking up at you with an expression that had a shiver tingling down your spine. 
“Just two cracked ribs and some nasty bruises,” You huffed, shifting uncomfortably when her fingers grazed the material. 
“Just,” She snorted, shaking her head, dropping your shirt, and standing up to her full height. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?” 
You shrugged. “I didn’t want you to worry. The stitches were already enough,” 
“I’d rather know and worry than accidentally hurt you,” Alessia said seriously. 
You looked away from her, swallowing hard. “And I knew you wouldn’t touch me at all if I told you,” 
“Baby girl,” She murmured, her voice going very soft, her thumb very gently ghosting over your uninjured cheek. 
She knew that the come down from fights was always particularly difficult for you. That the power that you held in the octagon always made you crave submission. You craved to not have to think, to just exist, and then to let your being relax in the aftercare that followed. 
This time the desire was amplified by the brutality of the fight. 
She could see you teetering on the edge, fighting the fog that always filled your brain, and while she wanted to scold you for withholding information, she knew that that wasn’t what you needed from her. 
Not when you were already dropping so hard. 
“Ok,” She said, keeping her voice soft as you leaned further into her touch. “I’m going to shower, and you’re going to be a good girl and stay right here for me, alright?”
You made a low noise in the back of your throat, and your eyes slid closed as you nodded very slowly. 
“Good girl,” She hummed, placing a very gentle kiss on your lips, and pulling away. “I’ll be two minutes love,”
You sagged against the shower stall wall. 
You could do that. You could wait 120 seconds for your girlfriend. 
You could and would do whatever she asked you to do because you knew it would help. You knew she would fit all of your loose pieces back together again and make it ok. 
You just had to exist.
739 notes · View notes