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neutron-stars-collision · 10 months

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 3 - Canning Town Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 2 Summary: Flirting, Leicester Square station mixtape, flowers and breakdowns in the cantina. Or another chapter of an unlikely liaison. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and imagery and more outrageous flirting. Author's Notes: Chapter a month might just be the new deal here, apologies. And this one's long, by which I mean over 11k 💁🏻‍♀️ It also seems like now that I've started, I can't stay away from Neil's POV so... yeah. Look out for a cheeky cameo too 😉 Other than that, I can assure you this is just as chaotic and ridiculous as the last chapter. These two are in full control, I'm just a mere scribe, doing my best. Hopefully it works. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Incorporating Neil into your daily (and weekly) life was easy. Almost terrifyingly so if you did as much as stop and think about it. Perhaps the self-preservation rooted deep within forbade you to reflect on it. Which, in hindsight, was a good thing.

After that first victory of obtaining Neil’s number, you did not hold back from texting and bombarding him with daily nonsensical memes that could have driven a different man to madness. Neil, however, took it in his stride. It was rare not to get a reply from him after longer than an hour. And that boosted your courage like nothing else.

Some days, the conversations went like this:

/ 🏹, 12:07 pm/ Show me what socks are you wearing.

/✝️, 12:13 pm/ Jesus, that’s forward.

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ That’s basically my second name. So?

/ 🏹, 12:14 pm/ I swear I won’t sell the pic on OF.

/✝️, 12:20 pm/ Well, if you do, then at least share the earnings with me.

Although you started the ridiculous conversation, when the next text came, consisting of a single image of a socked ankle bared by the familiar hand pulling up the pant leg, you nearly dropped the coffee cup in the middle of the Covent Garden. It was just an ordinary Tuesday lunchtime, with the square bustling with sound and movement. Using the rare sunny September day, you escaped the confines of the Royal Opera House to have your coffee break on the kerb. Thanks to the dwindling sense of coherence, you did not drop said coffee when you opened the photo. The socks you had asked for were black with a grey argyle pattern. But that was where the normalcy ended, for the rhombuses were filled with corgi heads. The brown-beige dogs stared at you through the screen with their beady eyes and were the reason for your hysterical laughter.

The overprotective mother tending to her children close by shot you a dirty look. Well, fuck her.

/ 🏹, 12:23 pm/ Neil, you’re too cute. Way too cute.

/✝️, 12:32 pm/ It’s what every guy wants to hear. Thanks, Cupid.

/ 🏹, 12:34 pm/ I never said you’re not hot, though. Which you very much are. So much that I thought of you when…

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ Yeah, don’t finish that sentence. Please.

/✝️, 12:35 pm/ I’d rather maintain my innocence.

/ 🏹, 12:36 pm/ As you wish 😘

That was not a lie. It was a result of yet another tiring day and an early night in bed when it was too early to sleep. So, you chose to fill the time like most women would, letting your thoughts drift to images and scenarios that always did the trick as your hand delved between your thighs. When you realised who you had been thinking of, the tension was so close to bursting that you did not try to shift the attention. When you came, the guilt was nowhere to be found.

After all, it was not a sin to think of pretty boys when taking the edge off. As soon as you realised that Neil did not take the flirty line seriously, that feeling of potentially having done something wrong became non-existent. It was fine. It was all fine.

Other times, especially during those Wednesday mornings on the Tube, your conversations looked more like this:

“I’ve got an invasive question…” changing the subject during your weekly chats was easy, for as soon as you set a weighty gaze on Neil, he sobered up too.

The endless questions did not seem to bother him either. Your boundless curiosity was particularly grateful for that.

“As long as you’re not going to ask me what underwear I’m wearing, I think we’re fine,” the poker face was only disturbed by Neil’s twitching lips, and the sparks danced in his eyes as he inclined his head in your direction, blessing you with the golden strands, “Shoot,”

Every time, you took a deep breath, silently gathering the courage to ask, and then let the question fall from your lips without a pause:

“When was the last time you’ve been in love?” the curiosity was all it was.

Yet still, Neil’s widening eyes made you consider that perhaps something else was underlining that desire to know. And that this question was different than others you had asked. Different from “Dogs or cats?” “Typical coffee order?” and “Any hidden talents?”. But it was too late to take it back.

“Oof, you weren’t joking” Neil seemed to shake it off quickly, only briefly offering you a glare before looking down to find the needed words, “Probably two-ish years ago…?” you were sure you had imagined the broken edge in his voice as Neil swallowed hard and continued “It was a disaster. She didn’t- Let’s just say I went in too hard and too fast, and she got scared. Pretty much ghosted me after a half-assed excuse” when he raised his head and meet your gaze, you could see the depths of hurt in his eyes.

Your heart felt pathetically hollow, but you smothered the feeling to nothing but an uncomfortable sting.

“Ouch,” a wince was easy enough to muster, and you followed it with an apology, “Sorry,” Neil’s crestfallen look was an inspiration for you to place your hand on his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze “I know that it doesn’t help, but it’s her, not you” you knew the light statement was the right way to go when Neil cracked a wry smile and gave your other wrist a tap.

“Thanks,” it was evident enough to realise that Neil was eager to drop the subject. It was clearer still that you were going to be the next target, “I won’t ask you the same since I know better, but… Do you really think no one could change your view on love?” yet when the question fell in the space between you, it was not what you had expected.

The surprise must have painted on your face, for Neil looked a second away from taking it back. You stopped him from doing that the only way you could think of – by extending your hand in what was universally thought of as a ‘hold up’ motion. It was not that you did not want to answer. And it was not the first time someone had asked either.

But it was not something you were keen on inspecting and tearing apart to offer an honest answer. It was a fact, pure and simple. A fact that you would believe in till the day you died. There was no place for love in your life, and there would never be. Full stop.

“Yeah, I do,” you met Neil’s waiting gaze and offered him a weak shrug. The strange disappointment in his gaze made no sense, so you chose to ignore it to shift your attention to the world outside the carriage as it arrived at the next station. The belief in your next words was as tangible as anything else you could conceive, “It would take a miracle”.

He did not ask that question again.

Those Wednesday morning conversations also became a source of information, which you had stowed securely in the compartment of your brain labelled ‘Neil’. After almost two months of acquittance, you knew that he was born and raised a Londoner (from Richmond, the posh fuck [affectionate]), was decidedly a dog person and had a chocolate Labrador growing up (a girl named Daisy), listened to alt-rock and 80s music and was what he described as a hopeless romantic. You still did not know what he did for work, only that he was decidedly not a tattooist, literary agent, paramedic, jockey, art critic, dressmaker, choreographer, or bus driver. Whether he was truly not just a priest undercover was still up for debate.

***

Only when you fled the confines of the ordinary tiny London flat kitchen and felt the night breeze of the city on your skin, left bare from the jacket you did not yet put on, had the question of the ages pop into your head. What the fuck? There was no answer. You shook your head against the memories of what had just conspired and stopped on the pavement to put on and fasten the jacket. Even annoyed, you could still feel the biting cold begin to settle in your bones.

You never expected to bump into Liam. Never in a million years would you have considered that those two friends you shared would extend the invitation to that man out of all people. And you certainly did not expect him to come.

Although, as he had unhelpfully explained himself, he only showed up because of the chance you would be there. The audacity made you shake your head vehemently, without a doubt attracting a glare or two from those who remained sober at this hour. In Soho on Saturday night, that was unlikely.

You walked through the cobbled streets with the neon lights lighting your path without an aim or a map. The only objective was to stomp the frustration into the cracked pavement and end up home. Somehow. Specifics were to be determined later.

Sure, rushing out of your mate’s flat like a lightning bolt could be seen as impulsive. But Liam offered you no choice. The pleasant buzz of alcohol did nothing to stop the embarrassment, which grew worse by the minute. The long walk in an unknown direction was a sad but acceptable consequence. Or so you aimed to maintain.

By the time you had seriously begun to consider using the dwindling phone battery to order an Uber and save you from the penance of someone else’s transgressions, the red circle with a navy blue bar appeared on the horizon. Salvation, at last. You picked up the pace, eager to get out of the cold and that one step closer to home. This close to Leicester Square and the theatres just having closed their doors on the last patrons, the bustle seemed quieter somehow, more subdued. It was a blessing for your budding headache and a threat to the thoughts eager to appear with nothing suppressing them.

You crossed the road and descended the staircase with a sigh. The heat of the station enveloped you like a hug as you passed the ticketing gates and spent an unnecessarily long time staring at the Tube map. When the logic kicked in, at last, you rushed over to the correct platform.

Only to regret it as soon as the timing screen came into view. Heathrow Airport 25 mins. The polite PSA text below informed you the line was experiencing delays. No biggie. They were sorry. The usual shit. A curse litany lodged in your throat as your eyes roamed over the platform.

All the noise in your head faded to nothing when your gaze settled on that familiar blonde head of hair. He was sitting in one of the few chairs with his head bowed over his knees in a position so exemplary for a Saturday night in the glorious London town. You skimmed over his body, taking note of the casual jeans and a t-shirt, peeking from beneath the unbuttoned jacket.

Before you knew it, your legs had started carrying you in his direction, a goofy smile present on your face. The improbability of it happening made everything easier. Because what were the odds?

Instead of counting them, you approached Neil, still so blissfully unaware of your presence and delivered an opening line:

“Hello, Father,” the joke did not yet get old, and you still got the kick out of it.

Especially when Neil raised his head fast enough to give himself a whiplash and gasped from shock.

“Jesus- Oh, what the fuck?” clutching at his heaving chest with all the drama he could muster, Neil offered you a look so full of surprise you knew he did not expect this to happen either.

The only weekend plans you had discussed over texts were that you had a party to go to, and he was likely to go out with his workmates at some point. But that was it. Zero specifics, no need to share them because there was no need for either of you to know the details. And yet.

“Is that how you should greet a lady?” playing on his theatrical reaction, you feign a shocked expression.

It was clear you would fail at any attempts of annoyance. Your cheeks were already aching with that kind of wide, manic grin only Neil seemed to cause. You could see his eyes skim over your figure, taking in your clothes with that sort of precision only he seemed capable of. Finally, satisfied with what he saw, Neil raised his head to meet your gaze again and got up to bow lowly at your feet:

“Apologies, m’lady,” before you knew what he was doing, he took hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles. A move so fast you almost thought you had imagined it if not for the fading sensation of his lips still ghosting your skin, “What are you doing here?” with his hand lightly touching your elbow, Neil steered you towards the seats.

Only now, with the surprises fading into the background, you took note of the empty platform. It was just the two of you sitting on the creaky plastic chairs. You shifted an inch closer to Neil, seeking the warmth radiating off his body and replied:

“As I’ve mentioned, I had an invitation to this flat party in Soho… And I went, but then, and you’ll never believe that happened-” recounting the improbable story felt good, and you took pleasure in the attention Neil gave your every word.

“Let me guess… Liam showed up?” his interjection followed your dramatic pause flawlessly.

Of course, he got it. Of course, he guessed. You shook your head at his eager smile, aware of the glee in your eyes:

“Damn, you’re good” your low approving whistle reverberated in the space. Most shockingly, there was a certain level of joy in sharing the story, even as your skin crawled with the embarrassment of what transpired, “Yeah, and it turns out that getting blocked did not make him smarter. It became a whole thing, along with him getting down on his knees in the middle of a kitchen and proclaiming his undying love to me,” you wondered if Liam was still there, kneeling on the tiled floor and waiting for your return.

Partially, you hoped that was the case.

Throwing you out of the strange ruminations, Neil shook his head and offered you a serious look:

“Blimey,” his tsk almost got lost in the PA announcement, crackling from the speakers. When it ended, Neil met your gaze with a sympathetic smile, “No wonder you ran away,” his knee nudged yours, triggering something you would not understand even in months.

Sitting upright, you nodded fervently:

“I had to” the emotions you did not know were present poured out from your lips as the next words fell in the space between you, “And like- He doesn’t even know me? He never saw me on the stage, and he thinks that making me cum a couple of times is enough?” a frustrated growl tore from your chest as you finished the tirade with a tired sigh and simple punchline, “Bullshit,”

There was no time or willingness to take apart where all that anger came from or why it was suddenly so important Neil understood your reasons. It just was. Later it was easily blamed on the alcohol still present in your veins. For now, you met his gaze and shrugged, answering the questions he seemed too shy to ask.

“With that, I must agree. It’s bullshit” nudging you with his shoulder, Neil smiled, brightening the clouds that still seemed to hang over your mind.

You shot him a brilliant grin, brushing away the concerns with terrifying ease. They had to wait, ideally forever.

“Thanks, babe” sugar coated your smile as you allowed yourself to gaze, taking note of the blush spreading on his cheeks. Although you would never admit it out loud, the blue of his eyes was slowly becoming your favourite shade of the colour. It was that thought that triggered your next confession, “Admittedly, meeting you here is a highlight of the night,” you watched as his eyes grew wider, evidently not expecting to hear something that honest. The moment stretched for what felt like ages until you found the strength to look away, focusing on the timing screen and the issues it posed, “Though, those delays are bullshit, too” your eye-roll elicited an instant laugh, which only added warmth to the kindling sparks in your chest.

“Mhmm,” Neil’s hum acted like an anchor, tying you to reality.

It was a better place to get lost in than the chaos raging in your head. You chose to stick by it, following the easy way out with a simple question:

“How come you’re here?” you turned towards Neil, hoping to block the platform and the world beyond from view.

Even if just figuratively and for a short while. If the answering bright smile was anything to go by, Neil was happy to humour you:

“I’ve been out for drinks at a pub, but then our crowd isn’t very… boisterous, so we all went our separate ways, and here I am,” he signed off the summary with an explanatory shrug, but you should have kept your guard up. Once his gaze settled on you with an intensity of intent, a pathetic instinct kickstarted your heart with all the subtlety of trainwreck, “Bored as fuck until you’ve shown up” the joy in that simple sentiment was enough to make your cheeks heat up.

Of its own volition, your brain provided the fresh memory of how Liam’s attention in that cursed kitchen had made you feel. How running away was the only option you saw then. It was different now; the quiet focus of the man sitting next to you was a welcomed change. A company you were happy to keep. For however long you were allowed.

“How long do you think till it’s-” ignoring the shyness that did not seem happy to be buried in Neil’s company, you changed the subject with all the grace of an elephant.

It was evident in how you stuttered, quickly abandoning the idea of finishing the sentence and letting it trail off into the quiet. It was too early to raise your head from the depths of shame it was drowning in. It was all a little too much.

“Could be twenty minutes, could be an hour… or never,” Neil’s voice gained a cheeky edge as if conscious of your minor crisis and happy to offer a distraction.

You risked a peek at his face, finding the signature smirk gracing his face. That expression never failed to feel like a sharpened knife piercing through the walls of your uncertainty. It complimented his face too well, dragging the attention to Neil’s sharp features and his remarkable eyes that always felt like they could see right through your bullshit and the pretending. It was terrifying.

It was then, in the light of his frightening beauty, that you decided what to do next. What was necessary to keep you (moderately) sane. One look at your tote bag lying on your lap offered inspiration:

“Fab,” your dry comment elicited Neil’s laugh and sealed the deal on what you wanted to do next. There was no backing out. You straightened your spine and swivelled on the seat to face him fully. When your knees touched him, Neil’s eyes widened almost comically. But that was only the beginning of the wild ride for him, you were sure of it, “Well, then… Dance with me,” the delivery of that line required a special nonchalance.

One that required you to hold Neil’s gaze long after you had finished speaking, and the words had only just dawned on him. Once they did, his eyes got comically large, and his lips parted on what could only be a mute expression of horror. A giggle got trapped in your throat, but you fought valiantly against it. For now.

“Pardon?” Neil’s choked-out question came after sequenced opening and closing his mouth with nothing coming up.

Your poker face was tearing at the seams. Foolishly.

“Dance with me, Neil,” repeating the request (order?), you extended your hand towards him, signing off the invitation for what it was.

The shock was still present on his face. Despite that, Neil slipped his palm, warm and fitting perfectly, into yours. You could tell that it was not entirely conscious on his part.

You sure did not mind it, though.

“I might have had a drink or two, but I didn’t think I was drunk enough to be hearing things,” Neil’s incredulity bled into his tone as he stared you down as if hoping the sheer disbelief would be enough to deter you.

Tough luck.

“Come on,” squeezing his hand, you switched the tactic with a question, “What’s the worst thing that can happen?” there was no judgment in your gaze, and you hoped Neil knew that.

If asked, you could not explain why that was something you wanted to do with him, there and then of all places. But it still felt important. Urgent, even.

The no-bullshit look you got in return almost made you burst into laughter.

“You’ll see me dance,” Neil deadpanned as if it was clear.

As if that was the peak horror that could befall him at your hands. Using the lifeline of your joined palms, you rubbed your thumb over the tender skin of his hand, hoping to let that act as a reassurance. That was a nonsensical fear to have.

Who gave you, a mediocre ballerina, the right to judge? Absolutely no one.

“And?” you offered Neil a brilliant grin, doing your best not to think about how right it felt to have his hand resting in yours.

That question seemed to catch his attention, pulling him back from the precipice of self-doubt. You watched as Neil pondered the answer, staring at you with that bright-eyed, anxious expression, complete with his teeth nibbling on his lower lip. He picked at the worried, fragile skin, and you did not think about soothing the damage with your tongue. Not at all.

“I don’t know… You’ll leave and block me?” when he finally found a plausible answer, it was the last thing you expected Neil to say.

Despite the seriousness on his face, you could not hold back the laugh that spilt from your lips. What an idiot [affectionate]. The adorable pout in his bottom lip was responsible for the recklessness you chose to implement.

Without thinking about it too much, you leaned in and used your free hand to cup his face, eradicating the remains of the gap between you. As your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, Neil gasped, barely disguising the sound with a cough. The grin spread over your face as you spoke:

“It takes a little more than that for me to block you,” that was true; you could barely fathom blocking Neil, least of all because of such a trivial reason. It was only after a beat that the second meaning of what he said sunk in. The meaning you expected Neil did not exactly consider slipping out like that. You grabbed it with both hands and a knowing smile, “Also… you enjoy talking to me that much?”

The jackpot shot came with a furious blush on his cheeks and an embarrassed scoff as Neil turned away from your watchful gaze. Your hands stayed linked. That, too, was an adorable reaction. It made that pleasant warmth in your chest burner brighter, though you refused to inspect it too closely.

Before you could consider pushing him for a reply further, Neil jumped up from the creaky seat and pulled you to standing using your tight handhold. The fake pep was visible from miles away, especially in that manic grin that almost seemed too wide on his face. But you did not have the time to question it.

“Okay, let’s just dance,” Neil tugged at your hand impatiently.

He did not seem capable of standing still, hopping from one leg to another. If that was a sign of what was coming, you knew you were not ready. Your eyes narrowed in what you hoped was a mildly threatening look:

“That’s a deflection tactic,” still, you took a step closer to him, finally putting that handhold to use.

“Yes, it is,” Neil nodded as his arms opened in a shrug.

That was your answer. You could only cement it with a smile as you allowed him to pull you closer, almost into his open arms, except-

“Wait, we need music,” remembering that crucial missing piece, you let go of his hand and darted back to the tote abandoned by the seats.

“No shit,” Neil’s dry comment was accompanied by the scuffling of his shoes over the cracked tiles.

You grinned, triumphantly holding out the speaker you had fished from the bag. That was the only pro you could think of that came from your earlier practice, and no time in between that and the disastrous party.

“Lucky for you, I came prepared,” you showcased it like a spoil of war and turned the speaker on, awaiting the sound confirming it had connected to your phone. When it came, you ceremoniously placed the device on the vacated seat and pressed play on your phone. Only once the music was playing, you turned back towards Neil with a flourish, “Voila,”

It took him an additional second to identify the song, the synthesizer filling the empty platform with a special kind of vibe. When the proper beat kicked in, you started shimmying your hips and shoulders to the rhythm, awaiting Neil’s reaction. You were not disappointed when he gaped at you with joy barely disguised underneath a frown:

“Really?” still, his foot started tapping with the singer’s voice.

Shrugging, you spun around him, feeling the music fill your body like it always did. You always felt the most alive when dancing. When your feet were following the choreography, and head was deliciously empty of everything but the musical notes and lyrics.

When you stopped to meet Neil’s gaze, you found him staring back in awe.

“What? It’s not me; it’s the holy spirit of the shuffle,” the song started heading towards the chorus, so you added the hand movements, orbiting around Neil and hoping to pull him along, “Can’t argue with it,”

‘Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me

Don't. Don't you want me?

You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me’

It was an all-time favourite. A bop you did not have the heart to resist whenever it came on. Now was not any different. Your lips started whispering the words as your body moved through the space, overcome with the feeling of dancing. At that moment, you were grateful for the sensible footwear your past self had chosen that morning. Sure, dancing in high heels was possible, but the Converse made for a much better choice. They slid along the cracked tiles without resistance, allowing you to double the efforts.

It did not matter that you had an audience. Or that it was a particularly attentive one, for you never once felt Neil look away. He was still staring, standing almost stock-still, save for how his feet tapped out the beat. That had to change.

‘Don't you want me, baby?

Don't you want me? Oh!’

You stopped, chest heaving and limbs still too giddy with the effort. You met Neil’s unwavering gaze over the space and mouthed the chorus, aware of the interpretations he could easily reach. That was fine, nothing you were opposed to. In a way, him noticing half your actions did have a tentative hope behind them would have saved you time. And words. But that was a thought for another time.

Once you heard the female vocals come in, you reached out towards him, yet again presenting Neil with your open hand. Yet again, he did not hesitate, letting you pull him close. When the distance had been eradicated, Neil placed his hand on your waist with an experimental level of timidity. As if he was still fully expecting the move to backfire. Silly goose. Your hand ventured up his chest to his shoulder as you steeled your frame into what was expected of ballroom dancing. The habits were hard to shake off, after all.

Despite the booming synthesizers and grooving rhythm, you let him lead you into a slow dance. With each step, Neil’s confidence seemed to grow, for his grip became firmer as he splayed his hand over the small of your back and pulled you closer. It did not matter that his technique would bring your snobbish teachers from ballet study to tears. What mattered was that you felt safe within his embrace, never shying away from Neil’s gaze as it stayed trained on your face. What also mattered was that the genuine smile was fixed on your face. Especially when the song was slowly ending, and Neil was not letting go. What a novelty that was. You worried that once you tasted it, it would be impossible to let go. To forget this careless feeling, encapsulated within a simple, tender hold and open, beautiful eyes.

“That was hardly a song for slow dancing,” when Neil spoke, the remark came upon a hesitant smile, so at odds with how sure his hand was within yours.

“We made do, didn’t we?” you could only offer him a smile, aware of the wobbly edges of your voice and the yearning of your treacherous heart.

Even with years of practice, it sometimes wanted what it could not get. Affection, namely. Or the tenderness that meant something, rather than the mindless touch of a loveless fuck. You hoped one day those two would disappear, leaving you perfectly satisfied with what you had.

As if aware of your dangerous thoughts, the song switch came at a perfect moment. The last beats of The Human League died down, replaced with an equally cheesy rhythm. If not worse. Neil’s reaction was instant. He stopped dancing abruptly, making you nearly miss stepping on his foot. Your eyes darted to his face as curiosity soared in your chest. The barely masked joy you found there only made that warmth in your heart feel like tongues of fire. You disentangled from the embrace to place your hand on his chest and push him back lightly:

“Come on, pretty boy. Show me what you’ve got,” you completed the encouragement with a wink and stepped back to give him space.

The hesitation stage lasted much less this time. Neil stared at you, evidently weighing the pros and cons of giving in, but as soon as Falco opened the song with the lines in German, he had made up his mind. It was your turn to be dumbfounded as you watched Neil thrash to the music, almost keeping up with the beat. He slid across the tiles, barely managing not to slip as Falco went on about Mozart and his flair.

‘Er war ein Virtuose, war ein Rockidol

Und alles rief: Come on and rock me Amadeus’

It was easy to say Neil got lost in the music as his lean body twisted and turned, claiming the space he was allowed to occupy. There was grace in his movement, as well as carelessness, perfectly balancing the dance into an ideal mixture. A rare spark of envy kindled in your chest as you did your best to ignore the question of what it must feel like to be this free. During the poor attempt at moonwalking as he circled you, you could no longer hold back the laugh. Neil’s hands weaved through the air as he threw his head back to shout the hook along with the singer. With each call of Amadeus’ name, the affection in your chest grew, becoming increasingly lethal. A show of that kind displayed not only his trust but also what kind of a man Neil could be if he got rid of his shyness and inhibitions. It was something you doubt you could ever forget.

And that could be a problem.

When the song drew to a close, and Neil’s heaving breaths alerted you that he was probably worn out with exertion, he stopped. The reverberating beats sunk into the background as you met his gaze, aware of the silly softness you could not eradicate from your eyes. Neil looked manic, his pupils dilated and irises sparkling. He was breathing hard, the exhaustion making him shrug off the jean jacket with impatience, so far that Neil did not bat an eyelid when the article landed on the dirty floor. The reveal of an old, worn-out t-shirt underneath that hugged his broad shoulders and biceps just right made your jaw fall slack.

That, too, could be a problem.

Despite the common sense screaming at you to look away, you stared on, aware of Neil gazing right back. A wiser person would have shaken awake in time to switch off the music and call this quits before any further damage could be done. But you were never the wiser person.

You looked on as the song switched into a different era of music, and gentle, cheesy chords of piano and percussion filled the platform with a ballad almost everyone knew. Neil was not any different. You noticed the change in his eyes, switching from playfulness to mild seriousness. As if he, too, knew your fates were being decided at that exact moment.

However, the results of those decisions would not be noticeable until much later.

Using Elvis’ crooning as a backup to help drown your thoughts, you reached out your hand towards Neil, repeating the invitation. It was up to him whether he wanted to take it. Just like everything else in your friendship. The eager hope was hard to nip in the bud. It itched and ached until you could hardly stand still, awaiting the sentencing for what felt like hours. At last, Neil closed the gap and took your proffered hand with an impassive look.

The second time bore all the experience of the first, making it easier to fall in place without hesitation. Neil clasped your hand in his and let his other arm wind around your waist, pulling you close. Much closer than before. Your hand found its way to his shoulder, curious fingers stroking the expanse of his neck, revealed by the t-shirt collar. You did your best not to notice the goosebumps rising on his skin. It was impossible to tell which of you moved first, leading into the gentle sway. Only once you started waltzing around the empty platform, it was impossible to stop.

‘Would it be a sin

If I can't help falling in love with you?’

Halfway through the song, you tilted your head back from where your gaze had been trained on the expanse of his chest and met Neil’s waiting gaze. The shock passing through your system felt like a fatal blow. There was no denying the fact that this was a first. The first time you had ever danced like that with someone, motivated by nothing else but the desire to do it. There was also no denying the fact Neil’s watchful eyes and the soft strokes of his fingers, running along the expanse of your waist down to your hip, felt like nothing else you could have ever experienced before or after. It was well past your usual flirty chats and casual innuendos. Well past the daily playfulness of whatever it was blooming between you. It was well past the worn-out tracks and lived-in spaces.

Absolutely fucking terrifying.

‘Take my hand,

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help falling in love with you

For I can't help falling in love with you’

It was impossible to say what had tipped the scales right then. Whether it was the song lyrics, drawing attention to all those things you would rather ignore till the end of time or the unwavering eye contact you had maintained as you spun across the space with grace that had not been there previously. Or whether it was due to how Neil held you steadily, all the while allowing himself to stare, eyes roaming over your face in a meticulous study. But perhaps it was just a trick of fate, a sudden loss of reason and logic that made you tip forward and give in to the gravitational pull of his orbit. Perhaps Neil was guilty of the same thing.

Before you knew what had failed and why, you were close enough to feel the gasp of his breath fan across your face. The air ghosted your lips as your nose brushed against Neil’s, and the time slowed to a crawling speed. There was no denying the fact that you wanted it. The want hummed underneath your skin and made it hard to think clearly.

You only knew that Neil closed his eyes, and his sharp intake of breath hit your lips, making you tilt forward. Making it oh so easy to let go and-

“This is Piccadilly Line service towards the Heathrow Airport,” the PA system crackled to life, forcing you to separate as if burned.

You blinked awake, barely noticing the train slowing at the platform and the music still playing from your speaker. One glance at Neil told you all feelings were very much mutual. It was a close call. So close you could almost feel the kiss that never happened. An uncertain smile played upon your lips as you turned off the music and jumped aboard the train. You could only hope the King of the Rock’N’Roll himself was wrong about this one.

***

It was a well-known truth that a pretty boy could make you a little stupid. Stupid enough to do things that, under normal circumstances, would be off the table. But all it took was a flash of blue eyes and a charming smile, and boom, logic gone, reason decimated. Usually, there was a price to pay for that.

But the potential costs meant nothing in the face of the revelations the Saturday night brought. Namely, the kiss that never happened but you could easily dream of. Which you did, just to brighten up the restless sleep. Needless to say, that night unlocked some things. Things that perhaps were best left untouched. But hindsight was a gift you did not yet possess.

Instead, you battled with a single idea that was difficult to eradicate. Sure, that night, or how it had almost ended, was never mentioned again. As early as the next day Neil reached out to you and set the tone you were happy to follow. But the memory remained, nagging at your brain for a week and not once letting go. It was a seed that planted another thought. The thought that nothing was preventing you from reaching out for more. That there was no script to follow with Neil. That idea was like a brainworm making a home inside your skull.

Because, yes, you were known to be a little stupid for attractive boys. And Neil was potentially the most beautiful man you have ever met. That proved to be a problem.

Exactly a week after that Saturday, you caved in. The autumn breeze was hitting your face and tangling your hair as you stared at the Thames. There was no better place to start a catastrophic chain of events than the Blackfriars Bridge. Or so you told yourself. You took out the phone to stare at the messages and opened the text conversation with Neil. It took an additional fortifying breath to start typing out the proposition and start the exchange.

/ 🏹, 5:39 pm/ So, I figured, since we already broke the rules on our hangouts last Saturday

/ 🏹, 5:40 pm/ Would you like to grab coffee tomorrow?

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ That’s unexpected.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ Why the sudden change of heart?

/ 🏹, 5:46 pm/ I liked your moves.

/✝️, 5:47 pm/ I’m pretty sure no one’s ever said that to me.

/ 🏹, 5:49 pm/ Maybe they just weren’t looking. I knew I was.

/✝️, 5:51 pm/ Okay, yeah. I’d like that.

/✝️, 5:52 pm/ Any labels I should be aware of?

/ 🏹, 5:52 pm/ Nah, fuck the labels.

/ 🏹, 5:53 pm/ Unless you want to bring me flowers. Then let’s call it a date.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ Then it’s a date 😘

You stared at the phone long after the screen went dark. Along with the buzzing joy and anticipation of what tomorrow would bring, there was also an eternal question. The question you had avoided pretty damn well so far. What the fuck have you done?

***

By the time you were meeting Neil in a café (chosen because of its perfect location between St. John’s Wood and Swiss Cottage), those nerves of anticipation had transformed into anxiety. The worst was that you did not even know what you were so nervous about. A date (that was not really a date) was nothing new. You have done it many times before, usually to great results. But suddenly, when Neil was inserted into the equation, all that you got was uncertainty. And a strong fear of fucking it up. It did not make for a good mix.

Part of it dissipated once you turned the street corner and saw him waiting in front of the café, a bouquet in hand, despite your line being nothing more than a throwaway joke. An affectionate smile was impossible to get rid of no matter how hard you may have tried. It stayed as you closed the remaining distance and met Neil’s gaze. Then it got transformed into a stupid grin as your eyes scanned him head to toe (hair just as messy as always, leather and jeans completed with sneakers – in other words: fucking hot). Once that foolery was complete, you could shift your attention to the flowers, now held out in your direction like a sheepish offering.

It was a colourful bouquet of wildflowers, freshly bloomed and coming from a florist rather than Sainsbury’s. The thoughtfulness was enough to make you blush. Before you could delve into an embarrassing attempt at cover-up, Neil broke the silence:

“You haven’t specified what kind of flowers,” his shyness was easily seen from the fidgeting hands and eyes unwilling to stay on your face longer than necessary.

That was your cue to get yourself together and accept the bouquet with a courtesy. That, too, was just a trick to drag that shy smile onto his face. It worked.

“Those are perfect, thank you,” with another smile, you turned towards the entrance and went in as Neil held the door. It was a cosy café with only a few tables and a bar-service ordering. You motioned towards the smiling server behind the counter with a question, “Wanna go order coffee?”

You did not expect in response to your innocent ask for Neil to come to a strange stand-still in the middle of the entryway and measure you with a look that spoke volumes about him having something to say and no way of expressing it. You raised your eyebrow, urging the words to come out and save you from death by perplexation.

After a beat, Neil seemingly found the ability to speak again and stumbled through a sentence:

“I’ve got… uh… a thing,” the emphasis on the final word was accompanied by an awkward shift, his hand automatically reaching up to comb through his hair and messing it up even more.

That did not help. At all. You blinked, aware of the comedy role you had just been awarded without warning. You were vaguely conscious of the server’s gaze, undoubtedly staring at the spectacle presented with fascination.

“Jesus, what thing?” when Neil did not elaborate, you prodded with another question, gaining a slightly hysterical edge.

It was probably that tone which made the most impact. Neil seemed to wake up, his hands gesturing as he attempted to explain:

“A thing about figuring out people’s drink order,” he shrugged, almost as if already embarrassed by ever bringing it up; that would not do, “Like a-”

“A kink?” you interrupted his explanation with a devilish grin, knowing that it would do the job.

That and the teasing, of course.

The reaction was instantaneous. Where previously there had been mild shyness and uncertainty, the furious blush had bloomed. Neil looked horrified as he took a step in your direction as if considering sealing your mouth shut before finally admitting defeat. What you got instead was a glare and an affronted reply:

“What? No! More like talent, I guess,” Neil shrugged, visibly battling the dilemma you were not privy to. You decided to help him the best way you knew how – by reaching out and squeezing his hand. Once. Just once. It was enough to do the job and make your fingers itch with an inexplicable desire to prolong the contact. Luckily, it disappeared when Neil recovered from his internal crisis and gestured towards the counter, “May I?”

You could only nod, happy that whatever had just transpired was past you. Not that it was not fun, but because of the audience that did not deserve to see what had happened. Whatever it was.

“You’ve got me intrigued, so now you have to,” shrugging upon Neil’s hesitant smile, you ventured inside the café, scouting for a perfect table.

Soon enough, the ideal booth had been located and taken as you awaited Neil’s return. You did not have to wait long, for as soon as you settled and placed your coat on the backrest, he sat in the chair in front. That sheepish smile was still in place, so you tried to bring back his confidence with dumb chitchat until you were interrupted by the server approaching your table. It worked. As you both fell quiet, Neil was visibly fighting a grin threatening to transform his face. The pride surged in your veins without respect towards your sense of humility.

The woman shot you both a bright smile as she set neared the table and put a steaming porcelain cup in front of Neil:

“Flat White for you, sir, and for your girlfriend-” you never got to hear the end of that sentence as Neil’s horrified expression and a loud interruption stole your attention.

“Oh, we’re not-” your laughter was almost enough to drown out his protest.

Almost because the server still looked extremely apologetic as she placed a larger cup in front of you with a clink.

“-Caramel Macchiato,” you waved off the atonement she seemed ready to launch and smiled, the curiosity at his choice already occupying your mind.

“Thank you,” as soon as the woman was out of earshot, you turned your cheeky smile onto Neil and covered his hand resting on the table with your palm, “Are you ashamed of me, my darling?” your favourite blush spread upon his cheeks, widening your grin in the process.

A blunder like that was not something you would ever lose sleep over. Even less so, considering that you were there with Neil. Even with your deep-rooted dislike over anything that had to do with relationships and the complications they lead to, you could not possibly be angry over being perceived as belonging to Neil. If anything, it was flattering.

“Stop it,” he shook off your hand, way too gently, and shook his head as if desperate to clear it, “I just didn’t-” after a beat, he dropped your gaze, giving up the fight, “It doesn’t matter, sorry” although you would do anything to understand the thought processes unfolding behind those slightly vacant blue eyes, you were not given a chance. Instead, he took a fortifying sip of coffee and looked at your cup, (not so) swiftly changing the topic “So… how did I do?” the anticipation in that gaze offered no space for a bargain.

You glanced at the beverage in front of you and slowly raised it to get a tentative taste. The warm liquid slightly burned your tongue, but before you could mourn the damage, the caffeine and creamy caramel filled your mouth with pleasurable goodness. It was a top-notch choice, making you follow that first sip with another almost without a break. Burned tongue be damned.

“Very good, actually,” raising your head, you met Neil’s proud smile. It was a much better look than the embarrassed expression from earlier, motivating you to add, “Maybe you should try getting into BGT with that talent,” you winked at him, even if to prolong the blush, which had begun to fade.

But also because it was fun to compliment him, considering that you meant every word and because of your suspicions that Neil did not get them often. That alone was a travesty, in your opinion.

“Very funny,” rolling his eyes at you with a happy smile tucked in the corner of his lips, Neil looked even better.

It was easy enough a conclusion that lightness and happiness were a good look on him. Especially when you were the cause. You tried not to let that go into your head, but… Well.

“I know,” you matched his smile with a smirk of your own, “Hysterical,” with the perfect pause to take another sip of the glorious coffee, you shifted the topic, “How was the week at the clergy?”

Without Neil’s continuous amused reactions to the same old joke, you would have dropped it by now. But how could you if it still got a laugh out of him each time? You couldn’t let opportunities like that slip by. No chance.

This time, Neil hid the joyous huff of laughter in the coffee cup as he pondered the answer.

“It’s been good. Fine,” a noncommittal shrug offered no room for guessing what it was that he did, which was still a mystery, but you counted wins where you could find them, “A bit busy, but what can you do. I might have a work trip coming up soon, so…” it was only when the second part of his reply was processed by your brain, currently preoccupied with staring at Neil’s mouth (which was a very normal state of mind to have), that you perked up.

That was important information. For two contrasting reasons. One was that whatever Neil did for work involved work trips, and that narrowed down the field, albeit barely. Two was that it would mean he would not be around every Wednesday, ready to meet you. That second deduction took hold of your heart with the icy grasp of disappointment.

“So, no more Wednesday meetups?” it was impossible to keep the sadness out of your tone as you settled a wary gaze on Neil.

Sure, it was survivable. But where would be the fun in it?

It was not fun to see that same apprehension creep into Neil’s eyes.

“Yeah, but only like… for a few weeks,” from his sudden dislike of eye contact, you guessed that the estimation might have been an understatement. Though you did hope he was not lying. The pitiful look must have been still present on your face, for Neil followed the statement with reassurance, “I’m sure you’ll survive without me,” he hesitated for a millisecond before returning your previous gesture and giving your hand a comforting pat.

You did not move it away, the pleasant warmth and weight of his palm seeping through your skin and soothing the sudden spell of sadness. It was difficult not to let that inexplicable feeling lead you into the deep end as it was not something you understood. It settled in the darkest cavern of your heart and accompanied its beat with its foreboding presence. There was no choice but to push past it.

“I don’t know, I’m going to miss you,” the confession felt dangerously light on your tongue as you registered Neil’s reaction. His beautiful eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he quickly dropped your gaze, choosing to stare at the table instead. The only sign that you were heard was how his thumb stroked your hand repeatedly, “I hope you’ll be back before the premiere,” using the only way you knew of lightening the conversation, you made sure to slip in a playful tone.

Ever since the day you had shared joyous news with Neil, he often asked about the preparations for the ballet. He seemed genuinely interested in the process, the rehearsals, and your impressions at every stage.

When you innocently hinted at a costume fitting in your texts Neil immediately asked for a picture. You complied, gleefully posing in the dressing room mirror wearing the whole get-up, complete with pointe shoes, tights, and a white ballet tutu with the accents of blue flower petals. All in all, you had the right to believe that Neil would be interested in coming to see the ballet when it premiered. You had that covered.

“I’ll do my best,” his hopeful smile was enough to distract you, for soon Neil followed it with a question, “Do I get an invite?”

The cheeky smile was back in full force, almost wiping you off the surface of the Earth. More of that, please. Feeling brave, you slowly tangled your fingers with his to raise your joined hands from the tabletop and squeezed his palm. It was a silly question to ask. You had to make sure Neil knew that.

“Well, duh,” you started with an eye roll, taking pleasure from the feel of his hand holding yours, “I’m going to need a personal cheerleader for when I fail big time,” it was a rare thing to hear you admit the fear and anxieties out loud.

Most of the time, they only existed in your mind, never expressed. And especially not in a conversation because that fear of someone else confirming all you feared was overwhelming. It was better to appear invincible to the world than to let them know your weaknesses. Somehow this logic did not want to apply itself to Neil. No, he has heard it all. And yet, he did not seem keen on confirming you were right to doubt yourself.

“That’s not going to happen. You’ll be the perfect Cupid,” punctuating the encouragement with a squeeze of the hand, Neil shot you a brilliant grin.

The nickname was growing on you. It was also the cause of a few silly smiles during the rehearsals when you were addressed with your character role. That was alright, too.

Now, with the force of his beautiful smile shining upon you like a rare beacon of hope, you tried your hardest not to let the praise consume you whole. Instead, you turned to the faithful vice of sarcasm as you let go of his hand and settled your chin on your folded palms. Eyelashes and doe eyes in full force. Naturally.

“Wow, my charms must be working if you’re this blindsided,” curling the corner of your mouth in a smirk, your eyes roamed over his face in familiar patterns.

It was refreshing to remember why you invited him out in the first place. Why you have decided to break the unwritten role and step on the line you both had been tiptoeing from day one. Why nothing was holding you back from reaching for what you wanted.

This time, Neil did not turn away from your taxing gaze and met it head-on. Almost as if permitting you to proceed with whatever you desired.

“You’ve no idea, sweetheart,” mirroring your tentative smirk, Neil offered you a wink and picked up the coffee cup.

You were certainly not going to eschew a chance like that.

***

As far as first dates (could he even call it that?) went, meeting up for coffee and letting the conversations run without a disaster somewhere in between was rare. Even rarer still considering that Neil did not know how he got to this point and whether it was not all a dream. The jury was out on that. Even though Sunday was now two days ago, the meeting was still fresh in his mind, posing a thousand questions.

Because he really did not know how he got that place. The only certainty was that sometime between the surprising Saturday night meeting at Leicester Square station and the day after, Cupid made up her mind and chose to strike. Alternatively, she decided to act considering the realisations he was not privy to. Sure, that night at the station almost ended with a kiss. He knew that. He was there. But it did not offer answers as towards why an almost kiss made her behave in contrast to what Neil thought he understood about her.

Because a date was definitely a step above flirting. And it was hard to understand what that meant. If anything at all.

Now, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, Neil stared out the window of the HQ cafeteria and tried his hardest not to think about it (her) for a change. It was not going well, as one could expect. From the corner of his eye, he could tell Ives was staring. Those piercing blue eyes (bluer than his, which has once or twice been proved during a night out as those things usually are) have been glancing his way instead of focusing on the sandwich on his plate. What a prick (affectionate). After what felt like a fiftieth glance, Neil dropped the napkin onto his place with force and turned towards Ives with a glare. The patience has worn out.

“Oh, just spit it out,” Neil hissed the words with ire.

The grin spreading upon Ives’ lips did not help a bit. The soldier leaned forward, abandoning his food and setting the perceptive eyes upon his friend. Mercilessly. With years of friendship, Neil knew this was not ending well.

“I haven’t said a word,” the man shrugged; a picture-perfect nonchalance.

If only.

“But you’ve been staring,” Neil’s attempt at covering up the tension with a bored tone failed.

He knew that as soon as he saw Ives’ unimpressed smile. There were no doubts about where this conversation was heading. It was the interrogation Neil had feared from day one. It was only a matter of time. Damn it.

“Go ask Henrik. Maybe he can help you gauge my eyes,” in moments like this, Ives’ cockney accent came out in full force, tearing at the shreds of patience Neil seemed to have.

Despite himself, he cracked a smile at the comeback.

“Doubtful,” quickly hiding it in the sip of tea, Neil muttered a quip of his own.

While Henrik, the team’s medic, was a peculiar man, it was improbable he would be into that kind of thing. Unfortunately.

“Eh, I wouldn’t put it past him,” before he could hope this was the end of the conversation, Ives levelled him with another no-bullshit look and delivered the sentence in four simple words, “Mate, spit it out,”

If only it were that easy. For one, Neil did not even know what there was to tell. Sure, he has met a girl. He was probably thinking too much about said girl daily. But that was it. The end of the story. Pathetic, as per usual.

“I’d rather not,” as the last resort of keeping his dignity intact, Neil averted his gaze and fixed his stare on the dirty floor of the cantina.

A solitary potato chip was lying there, attracting attention. For one, maddening second, his brain tried to concoct an elaborate metaphor in which he was like that lonely, forgotten chip on the ground.

Thankfully, the idea was soon dispersed by his irreplicable companion and his booming voice, cutting through the idiotic thoughts:

“I beg to differ,” the hint of reassurance in Ives’ voice was responsible for luring Neil into listening, just as the soldier delivered the question, “What’s her name? His name? Their name?”

Admittedly, the inclusive way of asking was a nice touch from someone who frequently lacked decorum. Or, more accurately, did not bother with it. It was that addition that made Neil crack, with the final resolve crumbling as he tried to protest:

“There’s no- Cupid,” giving out a tired sigh, Neil finally raised his head and repeated the nickname with something ridiculously close to the softness of affection, “I call her Cupid,”

It made no sense. He knew that. But it did not help that whenever he thought of her, that stupid, embarrassing part of his heart was roused awake from periodical slumber. So much for being reasonable.

As soon as Ives whistled lowly and that familiar sardonic grin appeared on his face, Neil knew it was a mistake.

“Kinky,” his murderous glare got ignored in favour of another pressing question, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Lucky was definitely an overstatement if you asked Neil. But he did not fancy getting into the specifics of the relationships yet. Instead, he happily let himself delve back into memories of that first meeting. He still could not find other apt ways to describe it than a strike of fate. Dramatic? Sure, that was his second name.

He did doubt that Ives would appreciate the insane poetic ruminations, however.

“I’ve met her at the Tube, and she’s a ballerina… Pretty fucking cool, at that” that was a non-negotiable fact. Period.

Yet from the way his friend stared at him, Neil could easily deduct that here, too, he sounded like the insane idiot that he was. An idiot that finds friends on the Tube and lets that develop into something else. Something he tried very hard not to define. It was going splendidly well. Of course.

“Uh oh,” as if reading his mind, Ives, the prick, pasted on a silly grin and bated his eyelashes down at him, continuing the interrogation, “Is that a crush I’m sensing?”

Fuck. That was, indeed, a mistake.

Not that there was a crush because there absolutely wasn’t anything of that sort. Idiot, he might have been, but not… No. No. Which is exactly why Neil had to pause to cover his face with his hands and let out a deep sigh. Conveniently ignoring Ives and his bullshit assumptions.

Only once he felt like the annoyance had simmered to an acceptable white noise, Neil dropped the hands covering his face and met his destiny in the form of an infuriating sardonic smile.

“No, she’s just… I’m fascinated, okay? I’ve never met anyone like her before, and we’ve got a good thing going with weekly chats and… stuff,” running out of steam, Neil let the last word trail off into silence.

He knew what it all sounded like. He did. Except that there was no better way of describing it (them) to the outside world. And he was certainly not keen on showing Ives the texts. Not after the last conversation this morning, which involved more innuendos and another rendition of What socks are you wearing? - his favourite game. Truly. What made the exchange more incriminating, however, was the fact that Cupid’s current socks brandished an image of an adorable pug with a caption: “Send dog pics”. Yeah, that. That was a theme he was so far happy to ignore. Kind of.

“Did you kiss her yet?” another ridiculous question acted like a wake-up call as Neil felt the loathed, crimson blush fill his cheeks.

“What is this? Middle school?” another outburst got met with a stoically blank face, not helping to ease the shame of being so goddamn transparent “No, I didn’t,” I wish, “We danced” offering the alternative lowkey felt like self-sacrifice.

Not because Neil was embarrassed of what had happened that Saturday night but because it stayed a secret to anyone who was not him or Cupid. At least, that is what she told him, much to inexplicable surprise, which he could not and would not try to understand.

“I never knew you dance,” the soldier’s remark, as always, missed the mark.

Annoyance at the whole world, at this rate, rose at a steady pace. Perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that Neil was frustrated at the circumstances of the relationship with the woman in question, but it was too soon for self-realisation to do its work.

“Of course, I do,” instead, it was the distant feel of pity that nagged at the edges of his soul as Neil allowed the dismissive reflection to be voiced without the veil of fake pep, “Anyway, none of it matters. She’s not into relationships, so…” he shrugged, aware of the pitiful picture.

In a way, it was easier to know that about her ahead of time. It was perfect information to push at his brain and heart whenever they got too comfortable with the situation. To remind them (and himself) that it was not going anywhere, and it never would.

But, for some infuriating reason, the heart tended to be a stubborn beast holding no regard for facts. Not that heart had anything to do with this just yet. Of course not. Neil just… liked her. As a human being likes another human being. Platonically.

“Surely, your roguish charm will convince her otherwise,” as expected, Ives looked as if he was trying very hard not to feel sorry for him and was failing.

The reassurance hardly worked if Neil was being honest. The existence of said roguish charm was highly debatable. But who was he to argue?

“Nah, it’s fine. I can be just friends with her” manifesting much, or whatever. It was a blessing to have a different topic to switch to, “Anyway, I’m not going to see her for the next couple of weeks since we’re leaving,” another attempt at a nonchalant shrug got lost in the heaviness Neil could not shake off if he tried.

Going off on a mission right now, in the middle of it all, was far from ideal. Neil liked his job, loved it even, but then, some operations felt like a drag from the moment they appeared on his desk. That was one of them.

“Yeah, Lisbon is on,” from the tiredness written all over Ives’ face, Neil could tell the lack of enthusiasm was shared, “Two weeks, but it might be longer,”

“Great,” sarcasm dripped from the word as Neil glanced at his friend and asked, “We’re going to bunk together?”

It was only half a joke. Because only the company made the perspective of that mission seem a little less daunting.

“You wish, love,” the answering grin on Ives’ face was the perfect punchline to the dramatic conversation. The soldier got up from the table with another quip, “You know I’m not into blondes,” he walked away without another glance, yet the laugh he elicited from Neil could be heard in the room above the cantina.

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traumacatholic · 10 months

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I need advice. I abandoned Catholicism over 5 years ago due to trauma. I recently decided to try to reconnect with my faith and get closer to God but I don’t know where to start.

This is really going to depend on whether you are a baptised and confirmed Catholic or not. I'm saying this because I know a lot of adults that were baptised and who for whatever reason, didn't get confirmed.

In both instances, I would recommend reaching out to your local Church and ask to have a discussion with the local Priest who will be able to advise you on your next steps. If you are a baptised and confirmed Catholic, then he's likely going to ask for you to arrange to attend Confession, as well as recommending going forward that you attend Mass where possible. This way, going forward after your confession, you will be able to receive Communion. It may be possible that he can also recommend you some resources that speak to your particular situation.

Some Churches are certainly in better positions than others with regards to providing ongoing support. If the Church has any Bible studies, or would let you enrol in RCIA even as a fully baptised and confirmed Catholic then I would recommend getting involved in them when they're up and running. It can provide a lot of support and guidance.

If you are only baptised, then your next steps would be enrolling into the RCIA program when it's up and running. Because if you're not baptised AND confirmed, then you're unable to participate in the Sacraments of Communion and Confession.

Something I would also recommend doing is developing a prayer rule. These should generally only be established with the help of a Priest, so I would recommend asking the Priest you reach out to for better advice on where you should start. But something that would be beneficial would be to have a morning and/or nightly prayer where you say the Our Father 3x as well as the Hail Mary 3x. (This should serve as a baseline, if you feel the need to add other prayers that address something you're going through that day, then do but please don't try and establish a long lengthy prayer rule. It should be short and manageable).

I would also recommend reading small parts of the four Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John daily until you finish reading them all. You don't have to do the prayers and Scripture readings in one go, definitely spread them out throughout the day if that's easier. And only start with small bitesize chunks of Scripture. It's better to read a small amount each day than to read a huge chunk and then not pick the Bible up again for weeks on end.

Once you've finished reading them, I would recommend going to https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/120123.cfm. Each day, read the daily readings. These are the readings used in the Mass for that day. And draw from the Old and New Testament. I would still recommend reading outside of those, but these can be a good starting point.

An alternative (to the second part) would be to work your way through the Ascension presents - Bible in a Year playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeXS0cAkuTPqFMtZQ379qdEmcfxO1SvXc . Commentary and prayer is provided alongside the readings, and you might find this helpful. And you could always have this playing in the background while you get ready in the morning / before bed.

If you don't feel ready to attend Mass yet, that's okay. I would still recommend reaching out to the Priest and talking about your situation with him. And incorporating prayer and Scripture into your life is so important. Don't feel like you can't pray or read the Bible just because you don't feel ready to attend Mass.

Spending time with the Scripture and spending time in prayer is a really good means of reconnecting with the faith. Especially because you can take things at your own pace. Don't feel like you aren't doing enough. Starting off slow and steady is always going to be better than trying to jump into everything all at once and burning yourself out. God bless you on your journey!

Also if you're interested in religious books that explore themes such as mental health issues and trauma, then I would recommend checking out this list: https://hislittleflower-throughconcrete.tumblr.com/post/161442647997/i-have-no-idea-if-youd-actually-know-but-is

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sapphosremains · 1 month

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Hi! I’ve been religious my whole life, but I’ve been feeling the urge to become more dedicated lately. I pray most nights (sometimes I forget) and I feel I have room in my heart and life for Jesus. I was wondering if you have any tips for ways to incorporate faith into your life in more tangible ways? Like, ways that are harder to forget. Like a prayer book or anything like that. Little ways, you know?

I’m sorry if this was too vague!! I can elaborate if it’s helpful.

hey anon!

that’s so lovely, i’m so glad to hear it, and it sounds like you’ve got amazing practices already. if forgetting is an issue (definitely was for me), it’ll definitely get easier with routine as you build a habit, and also as you grow your relationship with God it’ll become something you feel that longing to do, so you’ll forget less. for now, reminders could definitely help if praying every day is a practice you want to start.

i’ll answer this as non-denominationally as i can - also as i’m anglocatholic i'm a lot more varied in my practices, so take what you want and what works for your faith, and don’t worry if something doesn’t work at all!

in terms of daily prayer, i would really recommend the book of common prayer! different denominations use different editions - i go to a church of england church, so i use the same BCP edition as the cofe, which is the 1662 version, for example. that version, and a contemporary version, can be found in an app called ‘daily prayer’, as well as on the cofe website, and i’m sure other places. apps and websites like that find things like the psalms, lessons, and collects for you, otherwise you can use a physical or digital bcp alongside a bible, lectionary, and collect book to find the appropriate things to put in. it sounds complicated but if you start with an app or website that does it for you you’ll understand quickly! i like to read the psalms and readings from my bible, just using the app to find them, because it feels best for me. eventually i’ll graduate to using a physical bcp book when im brave enough! if you’d like more info on praying the daily office using the bcp or other material lmk bc i spent ages researching trying to understand how to pray with it :)

another thing i do is keeping a bible on me 99% of the time. as i used to go to an anglican school, we received the new testament and psalms when we started secondary school in a tiny little book, which is super easy to carry around.

if you’d like to incorporate prayer into your life more generally, i’d suggest improving your instinct to turn to god. one thing i’ve always struggled with is blaspheming, always going ‘oh my god!’ whenever something went wrong. i saw a really good tip (please shout anyone if you know who said this!) that suggested to turn any ‘oh my god’ etc of anger into a genuine prayer. instead of frustration and blasphemy, use that opportunity and reminder of Him to pray for the situation that is aggravating you. another thing is crossing yourself whenever feels right - maybe if you need support, or are struggling, or want to make a quick prayer for a passing ambulance etc. it’s a nice habit to be in.

i also learnt some short psalms, or declarations of faith like the Nicene creed and Apostles creed. these are quite soothing and if you’re in a difficult situation and need a second to calm down, just quietly reciting a psalm is a prayer to god, gives you the space and time to calm down while focusing on something else, and use His Word.

the other thing if you’re more catholic leaning could be a rosary! if you’re not catholic and a little uncomfy with the hail mary’s, swap them out for a creed, the lord’s prayer, or the jesus prayer, or something else. sometimes i pray the catholic rosary, other times my own version using the creeds, the lord’s prayer, glory be’s, and the jesus prayer, using the same method as the catholic rosary. otherwise you can make a shorter rosary. it’s a nice physical reminder that you can carry with you, or just do in your head.

a cross, crucifix, medal, or other religious necklace is also a nice reminder. it reminds me of my faith, my commitments, and i also hope that it’s a message to others that i am a safe loving person who they can turn to in times of need, although not sure that’s what people take from it now unfortunately :(

that’s all i can think of for now, but do get in touch again if you have any questions! i'll be praying for you.

may the Lord bless you and keep you x

#progressive christianity #lgbt christian #queer christian #religion #theology #book of common prayer #rosary

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bepatientandpersistent · 6 months

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Hello friends! I have been thinking for weeks about coming on here and making a "2024 goals" post. Like I did last year. But I'm not sure that I have any big goals, because I'm learning that setting big goals sometimes only sets me up for failure because I am so disappointed in myself if I don't reach them. Recently I've been setting more daily and weekly goals and it has been working well.

As always, I am trying to lose weight.. but taking a drastically different approach this time around. I posted maybe 2 months ago on here asking if anyone listened to health/weight loss podcasts because I had found one that I enjoyed and wanted to explore more. I did get a couple suggestions and plan on checking them out. I was so enamored with the one I had been listening to, Real Life Weight Loss, by Corey Little, that it was all I listened to for weeks and his beliefs, advice, and outlook really spoke to me. I ended up doing a virtual class/seminar hosted by him and loved that as well. Corey does personal weight loss/fitness coaching as well as runs a coaching group that follows the same program as his personal clients. It has a private Facebook group where clients can check in and seek help, guided by himself and a couple other coaches. After listening to his podcast for weeks and starting to see changes in myself and my habits (and losing about 12 pounds!), I joined his program.

I have been in the program for 5.5 weeks now, and I have lost 8 more pounds! They focus on changing the brain and making small, simple changes that progress as you move through the program. It is self-guided so you go at your own pace. They make it so easy that you don't even feel like you're putting in any work. The first few action items are to drink 2-3 liters of water daily, eliminate (or decrease) liquid calories, incorporate activity into your life, and take omega-3s daily. Within the first 7 or 8 lessons, he does go over his version of the recommended food groups to include in your diet, but there is absolutely no restrictions on anything. He doesn't tell us we have to track everything we eat. He doesn't tell us we can't eat carbs or fats or dairy, etc. The coaches just explain what is recommended for their program and help us learn to make better choices, as well as help us learn why we make "bad" choices when we do.

The "change your brain" aspect has been phenomenal. He emphasizes avoiding perfectionism and stopping the "bully in your brain", or negative self-talk, from convincing you that you're doing something wrong or that what you are doing will never work. He talks about the different kind of weight loss personalities there are. It's just amazing to be in a program that focuses on the mental stuff too ❤️

Here is an example of my weekly goals checklist

I love the freedom this program allows. I'm so glad I found the podcast because I think this is changing my life 😊

#personal #weight loss #life #fitblr #goals

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faegoddessog · 1 year

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Okay. So I need to do this publicly because I really want to give you detailed feedback. So everything in BOLD UPPERCASE is my addition to this. MY STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS IF YOU WILL.

Daily Meal AND THERE'S THE TITLE I GAVE YOU

HOW PERFECT DOES HE LOOK HERE?

Please let me know if you see anything that needs attention (other than the fucking hot pic of Austin in a backstage setting that perfectly goes with this story that I wrote way before those pics came out.. magic!!) BEST COINCIDENCE EVER THAT THIS PICTURE CAME OUT THIS DAY

OKAY HERE WE GO

She was sitting on the couch in their apartment, back to the door. It was bad Feng Shui, but it was the only place the robust piece of furniture would fit in the narrow New York apartment. They had rented it furnished and would only be here for about 9 months anyway. SEE YOU WROTE 'ROBUST PIECE OF FURNITURE' AND I THOUGHT 'OH THEY GONNA TEST THE STURDINESS OF THE COUCH' MY MIND WAS READY FOR SMUT IS ALL I'M SAYING.

She loved going with Austin to his film locations when she could. She adored travel and exploration, but she adored Austin exponentially more. He was the most kind person she had ever met. The fact that he was beyond handsome and famous didn't even matter to her. He had amazed her from their first meeting. A meeting after which, he began to pursue her diligently. OH HE'S A CHASER.

They had been in the City for just over two weeks now, under the guise of 'getting settled’. Really, they had come early because Austin had an addiction, theater. He had drug her out to shows nearly every night for the past two weeks before he started work on his new job. It's not like she hated going, she liked theater too. Just… whoa. She was at the point where she couldn't remember which scene belonged to which play. LOVE HOW YOU INCORPORATED HIS LOVE FOR THE THEATRE. OR AS HE ONCE SAID 'MAINLINING THEATRE'

All that would slow down as today was the first table read of the new play Austin was starring in. Austin was so excited to be working on Broadway again. When he left that morning he was like a kid in a candy shop: smiling, nervous and buzzing. I CAN IMAGINE THAT VIVIDLY.

Tonight though, he promised her something different. He was going to take her to his favorite little hole in the wall place, they had live music every night and 'the best cocktails in town'.

It was weird for him to want to be out so much, usually he was more of a ‘let’s stay in’ kind of guy. She supposed this was what theater did to him. YEP, FEELS A BIT OOC FOR AUS. BUT LET'S ROLL WITH IT.

Right now though, she had her headphones on trying to finish her remote work before he got home. There had been problems all day at the home office, deadlines had gotten moved up and her boss had put a lot of pressure on her to get them done. She had been frantically working all afternoon and felt like she was getting nowhere. Stumbling blocks and obstacles just kept popping up right and left. She felt like the project was slipping through her fingers. DO YOU KNOW ME IRL? WE HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT THAT TIME IN MY LIFE, RIGHT? SO THIS ALREADY FEELS VERY FAMILIAR.

Austin traipsed down the hallway to their apartment. His day had been so good, the table read went amazing and the meeting after showed a ton of excitement built up about his new show. He was riding a high when he opened the door and saw her sitting on the couch, back to the door.

He took a minute to look at her toeing off his shoes as per the rental agreement. YOU CAN PUT THAT IN A RENTAL AGREEMENT? Her hair was up in a bun, the noise canceling headphones that she preferred to earbuds when working cradling her head. The wide neck of her shirt had slipped down, showing off her shoulders. The thin gold necklace that he had given her draped over the back of her neck gave him warm fuzzies. AWWWW, HE'S A BIT TERITORRAL WHEN IT COMES TO HER. I LIKE THAT.

Damn he loved her. He was so happy that he got to bring his best girl with him on this project and share with her his love for theater.

The fact that she could do her job anywhere was amazing. He loved when she joined him on location, though she only ever visited the set occasionally during filming. She said it was important that they had their own bits of life, she didn't want him to feel smothered or like she had to check up on him on set. In fact, she could never make him feel that way. In the past two years, she had become his rock, his solid base to cling to as he jumped into projects that scared him, that pushed him. NICE WORK DESCRIBING AN ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP WITH ALL THE UPLIFTING SIDES THAT COME WITH THAT.

He closes the door. She doesn’t turn, clearly sucked in. YEAH, AND WEARING NOISE-CANCELING HEADPHONES ;)

"Well shit!" she exclaims loudly, banging on her keyboard a little too vehemently, obviously trying to make something work that was not working. BEEN THERE. VERY RELATABLE.

Austin's eyes narrow in concern. She is usually quite collected, but the move and work had been stressful on her. VERY OBSERVANT BF. LOVE THAT.

He slips into the bedroom, then out again unnoticed, pushing something into his jeans pocket. Austin walks up behind her and lightly touches her bare shoulders. She jumps a bit, startled, and looks up.

"Oh hey babe," she pulls her headphones off her ears, "how did it go?"

"It went well, I think it's gonna be a really good show," he says, "sounds like your day wasn't as great."

"That's an understatement," she says rubbing the bridge of her nose, "the whole system just went down, again. So frustrating. I feel like I can't get a foothold on this project." AGAIN, BEEN THERE. VERY RELATABLE.

He leans over the couch and closes the laptop, setting it aside. His lips brush her sensitive spot behind her ear. She closes her eyes, raises her hands to wrap around him and leans into his soft attentions. OKAAAYYY, WE GETTIN' SOMEWHERE.

"Feeling out of control are you?" he rumbles in her ear, "I have something that might help." DOM MODE ACTIVATED.

Before she can ask what, he slips his bracelets over her wrists. The ones that mean she doesn't get to make decisions until they come off. The ones that signify he is in charge. The ones that mean she belongs to him. YESSS...DEFINITELY LIKE THAT.

Two beautiful Italian-made leather cuff bracelets he had made in lieu of a collar. She did not like things tight around her neck, they had discovered. AGAIN, DO YOU KNOW ME?

The cuffs could dangle comfortably loose, or they could be tightened with small decorative looking buckles if he needed them tighter. They had beautiful intertwining loops of leather with a couple rings of metal that Austin could slip his fingers into to control her or restrain her. Or he could clip them together with a carabiner. He was quite proud of his little invention, really. DO YOU HAVE VISUALS FOR THOSE?´OR AN AFFILIATE LINK? LOL She can stop it all with the murmur of their safe word, of course. But she was loath to use it unless completely necessary. CONSENT & RULES IN PLACE...SO IMPORTANT.

She sighs as he slips them on, pussy clenching, almost Pavlovian in response at this point. God she loves him, he always knows exactly what she needs. Right now, she needs to not be in charge for a while. He must have had a really good day. He only got them out when he was in a really good mood. HIM TAKING CHARGE IS HOT. HIM TAKING CHARGE WHEN HE KNOWS SHE NEEDS IT IS EVEN BETTER: HE DOESN'T NEED TO BE PROMPTED, HE PICKS UP ON IT? TOTAL TURN ON.

"You know I wanted to take you out tonight, Doll," his hands slide down the front of her shirt, teasing her nipples, "but you aren't dressed yet. Oh hunny, what are we gonna do about that?"

"Out? Aren't we staying in?" she frowned a little, shaking her wrists a little. She had never worn the cuffs out in public before.

"Oh no, we are going, and those are going to stay on. It's New York, after all. No one will think twice," he says, stepping to the chair opposite the couch. I'VE NEVER BEEN TO NY BUT WEARING LEATHER CUFFS (THAT ARE SO NON-OBVIOUS) WOULD FLY UNDER THE RADAR HERE IN MY MID-SIZE EUROPEAN TOWN. SO I IMAGINE IT'S A NO-BRAINER IN NY.

"Yes, Austin," she says looking up at him, grateful to not have to make the decision. LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK: SOMETIMES IT'S A RELIEF TO NOT BE IN CHARGE, TO BE THE PLANNER. I HAVE A FEELING A LOT OF WOMEN FALL INTO THAT CATEGORY.

God he is beautiful. His tall frame is both lean and muscular, she knew he was stronger than he looked. Whether he had a little bit of scruff or he was clean shaven, his face was the very definition of handsome. He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones and the most adorable little corner mouth dimple on his left side. He was dotted with a unique constellation of freckles that she had been known to trace with her fingertips over his cheek and with her tongue as they dipped down his neck and onto his chest. OH THAT'S A CORE FANTASY OF MINE. AGAIN, WE DIDN'T TALK ABOUT THIS. WHAT IS THIS SORCERY? His lips, oh lord, his lips were always soft and kissable. The sharp bow of his upper lip in opposition with the full roundness of the bottom one. He could do things with that mouth, things the mere thought of which had her wet. CHECK. His newly darkened hair accentuated his piercing blue eyes. His new character was raven haired and he was nothing if not thorough in his preparation. His dedication to his craft was something she adored about him. YEP. TOTALLY WITH HER ON THAT ONE.

"Now, you are going to peel down right here,” he places himself deliberately in the chair, leaning back, long legs crossed, "then you will wear what I pick out."

His thumb and long fore-finger outline his mouth, pulling his bottom lip out. Something he did when he was nervous or when he was looking at something that turned him on. Right now that something was her. He waved his other hand in a 'well get on with it' gesture.

"Yes Austin," she said, standing up, "what first?"

"Hmm, top," he said simply.

They had played this game before. She knew he liked her to undress slowly and to touch herself when she did it. Her hand started at her waist, fingertips dragging the bottom edge of her shirt up, exposing the natural roundness of her belly.

She was no impossibly thin supermodel, she was curvy, strong, healthy. He liked that about her, liked that she didn't conform to the California/Fashion/Hollywood standards he had grown up with. She marched to the beat of her own drum. She was hot as fuck doing it. He had noticed that since she was thrust into the public eye by dating him, she was starting to lead the pack in promoting body positivity, just by being herself. QUEEN!!! YES TO NORMAL BODIES AND HOT MEN THINKING NORMAL SIZED WOMEN ARE HOT AF.

The hem of her shirt got caught momentarily on her naturally large breasts as she slowly stripped off her top. She hated wearing bras when at home. THIS! Her breasts bounced just a little as the shirt broke free. It was tantalizing to him.

"Turn around," he said, "pull those bottoms down, both of them."

Her thumbs hooked onto the waistband of her joggers and panties. Pulling first one side down over her luscious hips, then the other to just under her ass.

"Stop," he said quickly," mmm, pull those cheeks apart for me." SCREAMING! THINKING ABOUT A CERTAIN BLUE STONED GEM FROM A PREVIOUS STORY.

She grasped the roundness of her ass. The spreading sparking little sensations to her asshole and consequently to her pussy. She breathes out the tiniest of moans. She loves when he orders her to touch herself.

"Down to your ankles now," he says.

She steps back from the couch, more in the middle of the space and, bending at the waist, pushes her panties and joggers to the floor.

"Yes, show me that pussy, Doll," his deep voice starting to sound husky.

She steps her feet out of her clothes and then apart, pushing her hips back to him. Reaching back, she pulls her ass cheeks apart.

"Oh my, baby, you look like you are wet, touch yourself and check," he directs. He has uncrossed his legs, manspreading in the most delicious way, giving himself room to grow.

LIKE THAT? BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I'M THINKING ABOUT.

Reaching between her legs with one hand, she dips a finger into her seeping wetness, pulling away a string of moisture.

"Oh yes you are," he breaths, "do you like being all bent over in front of me, Doll? Showing me that wet, needy pussy?" The sound of a zipper reaches her ears.

"Yes Austin," her only reply.

Austin's hands are on her hips, guiding her to his now fully erect, fully exposed lap. "Sit that pretty pussy down on my big cock."

It was big; long fingers and hands do not lie, at least when it came to Austin. I SHARE THAT LINE OF THINKING.

She nestles down onto him with a pleasure filled moan. The first taste of his cock in her pussy was always perfection for them both, and it only got better from there.

"Oh yes, baby doll, , such a good girl, so wet for me” he praises her, “clean that finger off sweetheart," he pushes her hand to her mouth.

She turns her head to the side so he can watch her lick her juices. She moans around her finger as he slowly slides in and out of her.

"Hands," his gruff voice says.

She knows what he wants. She wants it too. She presents her wrists behind her. He laces the two fingers of one hand into the straps on both wrists. Pulling them tight behind her.

"Make me cum in that pussy baby, ride me," he leans back.

Clenching his ass and pushing himself further upward, he gives her his whole shaft to ride. His thumb strokes the soft skin of her inner wrist.

"Yes Austin,” she loves not having to think about what to do next. AGAIN, YESSS. Getting her feet under her, she slowly rises and falls, savoring every centimeter of him. The stress of the day forgotten as warmth percolates in her lower belly.

"Fuck yes, god I love your wet cunt wrapped around my dick," he groans out. "Does it feel good doll?"

"Yes Austin," she moans through clenched teeth. Her hips gyrate in slow, wide circles as she slides him further into her. His head brushes past the singular delicious point on the front of her vagina.

“Ohmigod!” falls from her lips as a shudder runs through her.

"Don't you cum unless I say so," he struggles not to fuck her back, to let her do all the work. LOVE THAT KIND OF DOMINANCE.

"Oh fuck, yes Austin," she moans.

She had almost forgotten that part, it had been too long since he had taken the weight of the world from her shoulders. OH THIS HIT'S SO CLOSE. AS AN OVERTHINKER IT RARELY HAPPENS BUT WHEN IT DOES IT'S THE BEST.

As she settles into a slow rhythm, Austin’s free hand slips around her ribcage, his long fingers pressing just under her breast. He steers her towards the pace he wants.

“Yes baby doll, just like that,” his voice sonorous and deep. YEAH, NOT SO KEEN ON THE TERM OF ENDEARMENT. (BUT HEY, IT CAN'T ALL BE GOOD, RIGHT?)

The exquisite ache starts to pour down his cock and coalesce deep in his groin. He takes a second to watch this gorgeous creature impaling herself on him. The muscles of her triceps popping as he holds her arms. He can just see the sides of her tits, pressed out and bouncing. He makes a mental note to have a mirror to hang on the wall opposite so he can watch her fully. The idea makes his pelvic floor clench and his arousal heighten. THE CLENCHING IS REAL.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” she cries out, his cock bouncing just a little inside her. It’s a small movement but it pings the nerves just right. It forces her muscles to contract deliciously around him, compelling her right up to her edge. The edge, she knew, that was not allowed to her, not yet. EVIL, BUT GOOD.

His chuckle came from deep in his chest. He knows she is getting close. He knows her cues, he made a study of her when they first got together, and he was nothing if not thorough. ALWAYS THE DELIGENT STUDENT. He fucking loves making her cum.

Her clamping down on his cock makes him gasp. Austin can’t help himself now, his glutes flexing and thighs straining, thrusting into her. The course of their movement falls naturally into him holding her still so he can fuck her. He loves fucking her. The anticipation builds in him, the glorious pressure seeps into his lower stomach.

Her head is thrown back, her legs are shaking. His thrusts are perfection, pumping in and out of her, hitting her inside in a way that she just can’t emulate. She loves it when he fucks her. Warmth rises to heat, swelling inside her seeking a crack from which to release.

“Please, can I come, please,” she whines, toes curling, muscles tense trying to control the pleasure wanting to burst out of her. Wetness trickles down the base of his shaft and onto his balls,

“NO!” his rasping reply through gritted teeth. He fucks her.

Her eyebrows draw together in a grimace, but the corner of her lips curl into a smile. Yeah, she loves this. This teetering on the edge, praying he will let her drench his cock. HOW DOES SHE HOLD BACK? SUPERHUMAN QUEEN!

And he fucks her.

“Ungh,” he groans out, “Fuck. Yes!”

Even through the haze of pleasure she is attempting to override, she can tell when he is close. She knows every sound he makes, the groan in his throat when he is so turned on there is no stopping him. She knows the cadence of his thrusts, when his balls cling tightly to his body in preparation. She fucking loves making him so hot that he can’t help but chase his orgasm single mindedly.

And he fucks her.

“Can I cum, can I cum, can I cum,” she starts to beg, moaning over and over.

He knows she is practically cumming already.

But he can’t answer.

His thrusts start to stutter, he can feel the pressure building in his balls to the point of no return. Guttural animal noises are all that he can make as the release overtakes him, his body tense. His energy focused on the single point of pulsing and surging of his cum into her frantic pussy.

Finally, he manages to sputter out “Yes.”

Her orgasm rockets from her as she fucks herself hard on his cock. Clenching him. Drenching him.

“YES! YES! YES!” she is screaming. Spine writhing like a snake.

“Oh my fucking god!” Austin’s eyes roll back, he head lolling on the back of the chair, his now sensitive cock getting a pounding of its own. KHDFKGHÖOIZF(WE&R%/W$EROFNSXFKUZG§$)(%/§$)%$/&POQ§UE=)" I QUITE LIKE THIS!

Finally she stills. Both of them shaking, twitching. He lets go of her wrists. She turns with ragged breath to curl up in his waiting arms. AFTERCARE KING.

>>>><<<<

Austin held her hand, forefinger looped through the bracelet on her hand. They had somehow managed to avoid most paparazzi, though by now they just always assumed there would be photos of them.

They walked down the alleyway, towards the blue neon feline over a paint-splattered black door with a stenciled white outline of a cat. It looked grungy and unkept. She looked at Austin as though he was crazy. He just smiled at her, pulled at the door handle without a scrap of hesitation. LOVE THE VIBE

She was wearing the outfit he picked out for her. A dark brown wraparound cocktail dress with capped sleeves and plunging neckline. The curved hemline of the wrap meeting in the front, forming an inverted V. Her legs flashed as she walked. He picked it because he could have easy and full access to her bare pussy. Of course he wouldn’t let her have panties. She wore leather heeled sandals with straps that criss-crossed and matched the cuffs dangling from her wrists. MATCHING YOUR KINK WITH YOUR OUTFIT IS NEXT LEVEL.

The second they walk down the stairs and into the speakeasy, she knows why he loves it here. It’s like they were instantly transported backstage. Props and set pieces make up the decor, it’s dark and intimate. There is exposed brick and ductwork and even a steel support beam bolted to its concrete footing. She half expects to see a rack of costumes roll by and actors with overly emphasized rouged cheeks hurrying to make their entrance, stage left.

There is a stage in fact, a tiny one. OH OH, ARE THERE NUDE DANCERS ON THE STAGE? There is a band playing and the place is pleasantly filled with patrons. OH, JUST MUSICIANS. THAT'S WHAT I CALL A MISSED CHANCE.

The bartender greets him like an old friend. They exchange a few sentences and he introduces her. Austin never lets go of her hand. Almost as if she is an anchor for his introverted self in the metaphorical sea of people. STILL THAT INTROVERT AT HEART:

They are shown to the most dark secluded round table with round couch seating in the back corner next to an egress that says ‘STAGE’ in grungy, scuffed lettering. He motions for her to take a seat.

“Peel that skirt slit back as you sit,” he whispers as he strips off his elegant black jacket revealing his basic white t-shirt underneath and the stitching detail on his black trousers. As he sits, he lays the jacket partially over her lap as though she was cold. It’s just a little extra insurance, the table hides most of her lap.

He snuggles her in tight to him, his long legs crossed towards her. Her hand rests lightly on his thigh One arm languidly around her shoulders, the other resting high on her now bare thigh under his jacket. He looks her up and down while they sit and enjoy the music for a minute, his fingers making little circles on her inner thigh.

“You know Doll,” he leans in, lips close to her ear, “you look good enough to eat, I might just make you my daily meal.” THERE'S THAT SONG BIT THAT INSPIRED IT ALL!

Her arm curls her hand to play in his dark hair. The moment is so intimate. She looks demurely down, pressing her lips together as his fingers graze her other ones under the table.

The waitress walks over. They both smile up at her like he doesn't have his hand up her dress.

“Hi, what can I get you two lovebirds,” she says, “Oh wow, I love your bracelet. Where did you get it.”

“He had them specially made for me,” she grins at Austin. He just nods, not offering any more information.

The waitress doesn’t note the plural. Austin orders a lemon sour and the grilled maitake for her and decides on the fried quail and a green toki highball for himself. HOW CAN THEY EVEN THINK ABOUT REAL FOOD?

When the drinks are delivered, Austin removes his hand from her thigh and then replaces it with the one draped over her shoulders.

“Wider,” he says smiling while handing her the lemon sour. Her legs part just enough so his hand can slip between them. As he sips, he pulses two fingers against her labia in time to the music. STRUMMING HER LIKE A GUITAR...

She watches the little stage, trying not to show her arousal on her face as she drinks. His pulsing becomes pushing as her wetness creeps onto his digits. Slowly sinking his long dextrous fingers over her clit and to the second knuckle inside her warm wet pussy over and over. It’s getting harder for her to keep her composure.

Food arrives. He retracts his fingers, wiping them cursorily between her thighs. She notes that they still glisten as he pulls a piece of quail off with his hands. Looking her in the eyes, he licks his fingers off before putting the bite in his mouth. DIRTY MAN. LOVE IT.

She knows what that beautiful tongue can do and hopefully will do later, if she’s good.

When they are done with their meal, she excuses herself to the bathroom, slickness lubricating her inner thighs. She makes her way through the rabbit warren that is the underground of this building to find the restroom. She tries her best to wipe away her arousal, not that she is embarrassed, she loves being this wet for Austin. It’s just that she came dangerously close to leaving a wet spot on the back of her dress. GIRL HAS STILL TOO MUCH GOING ON IN HER MIND? IF IT'S DARK NO ONE WILL SEEEEEEEEE.....

When she steps out, hair, pussy and makeup refreshed, Austin is there, coat over his arm, in the tight hallway. He smiles and takes her by the hand, fingers looping into the leather at her wrist. He leads her, she is sure, in the wrong direction, away from the speakeasy.

“Austin, I think it’s that way,” she says, pointing over her shoulder, forgetting the rules of their game.

He stops near a door and looks at her with one eyebrow cocked. “Are you questioning me?” I SEE TROUBLE ON THE HORIZON.

“I just don’t want them to think we aren’t paying… or … some…thing.” she says, her words falling off.

“Hmm,” is all he says. OH OH. DEFENETLY IN TROUBLE.

He pushes the door open staring at her, then nods his head toward the dark entrance. He had been here before, and was hoping not much had changed.

The door led into another darkened narrow hallway, then opened onto the backstage wing of this old theater. There was a concrete ledge and exposed brick, even some graffiti. The leg curtains still hang, dusty, masking this little used space. THAT'S AN INSURANCE LIABILITY IF I EVER SEEN ONE.

The stage itself and the old seating area are clearly in the process of some kind of remodeling job. The lights are still on, blazing. Someone may still be at work here at this late hour.

Austin walks a little, checking out the stage. She can tell the place is speaking to his theater blood. He places his jacket on the stone ledge. He strides two steps toward her and leans against the stone to brick wall. With narrowed eyes, he looks her up and down.

"Damn baby doll," the fingers of his right hand, glide across his bottom lip and chin as if trying to decide what to do with her, “about that daily meal.”

He reaches for her, pulling her against him. He flips her hair over her shoulder with the back of his hand, sliding it behind her neck and up to the back of her head. He presses her back to the wall.

"Spread your legs baby doll," his lips brush her ears as he grasps her hair in a loose fist.

The sensation on her head makes her shudder, the growl of his voice sends deep vibrations to her core. She steps her feet gingerly apart. SHIT. EVEN I FEEL THOSE VIBRATIONS...

"Lift your skirt, like a good girl," he kisses her cheek sweetly.

Her fingers gather the front of her skirt into her palms. The cool air of the space feels good on her hot cunt.

"Mmm, such a pretty pussy," he croons in her ear. Austin's long fingers brush the length of her outer lips.

"This is pretty dry baby, do you not like our little game anymore?" he asks with almost a pout, patting her mons, "do you want me to stop?" He lets his hand drop to his side. AUS THAT'S YOUR PART IN THIS EQUATION.

"No, no, I love it," she says quickly. She grabs his hand and pulls it back to her, “please don't stop." She was too far into the scene now, he had built her up too much all night to just stop. She needed him, needed whatever he decided to give her tonight.

"Tch, tch, tch,” his tongue clicks on the roof of his mouth, “oh Doll, did I say you could let go of your skirt?" He looks at her reprovingly, one eyebrow lifted, "questioning me, making up your own directions… oh no.” I SEE SOME FPRM OF PUNISHMENT COMING.

Whoops.

"I'm sorry…Sir," she quickly gathered her skirt up again, bottom lip catching in her teeth.

"Oh sugar, it's ok, or it will be in a minute," a devilish smile curls his lips.

Slap! His hand met her pussy with a sharp smack. The jolt sent electricity through her. She fucking loved when he slapped her pussy, liked it even when her bracelets weren't on.

"Say it," his voice was stern as he pets her, his eyes locked onto hers in the dim light.

"Austin," she breathes.

Slap! Her mouth curves slightly upwards as she jolts, chin tilting up.

"Is," the word comes out more defiant than she meant.

The hand in her hair tightens hard and pulls her head back, towering over her, his jawline set. Moisture springs immediately to the waterline of her eyes. THAT'S NOT WHERE THE LUBRICATION IS NEEDED GIRL. BUT I UNDERSTAND.

SLAP! Harder. Her leg shakes with the pain and pleasure of it.

"Hnngh, In," more of a moan than a spoken word.

Austin's lips brush hers. His tongue flickers out to wet her lips, then his own push gently against them. His lips leave, but his eyes remain close to hers. She can see her desire reflected in his eyes.

SLAP! Hardest. OOOUUUUUFFFFF!!!!

"Charge!" the word squeals from her throat.

"Mmm hmmm, that's right Doll," he croons, staring at her eyes, "now, are you gonna be good and do as I say?”"

She would nod if she could, but his grip on her hair was just tight enough to restrict her movement.

“Yes Sir,” she breathes out.

“That’s my girl,” he releases her hair and kisses her softly, lovingly, his hand rubbing soothingly on her tingly, dry lips. STILL DRY? GIRL YOU NEED TO DRINK MORE WATER.

“Hmm, maybe this little pussy just needs some encouragement?” he rubs a deep circle over her mons. Zings of pleasure tighten in her.

“Oh fuck,” slips from her mouth.

“Oh my, what a dirty mouth you have, Doll. Do I need to give it something else to do?” he asks, stepping back from her, fingers tapping the clasp at his waist.

She stands there, looking down at his tapping hand, breath shallow. She is still holding her dress up, still exposed to him, for him. Gods she is beautiful, he was so smitten with her.

She is trying so hard to be good. All she really wants is to leap on him, make him fuck her until she fills the thearter with the cacophony of her screaming orgasm. It was easier to cum when she was loud.

“Hmm?” he waits.

Slowly, she raises her eyes to his, chin still pointed down, a little hungry smile on her lips. She just nods. She loves his cock in her mouth.

His eyebrow twitches and a little moan sounds deep in his throat. If he wasn’t fully hard before, the look on her face made him so now. He pulls open the clasp quicker than he meant to. GOOD HE'S AFFECTED TOO.

Fuck she made him want her so badly. He thought about just sinking his cock into her. Fucking her until she begged him to stop, then doing it a little longer. She would be loud in this cavernous place and probably alert everyone in a half mile radius.

He took a breath, calming himself just a little. Not trusting himself to talk just yet, he indicates the floor with his eyes and a little nod of his head.

She slowly gets down on her knees in front of him licking her lips in preparation.

“Open” he commands as he pulls himself out.

He places his velvety head on her outstretched tongue.

Her eyes look up at him, she knows he likes that. The tip of her tongue laps up and down on his frenulum, her mouth still wide open. His breath leaves him in a low moan as she gradually drags his cock further and further into her mouth. When his tip hits her soft palette, her lips close engulfing him. Her wet lips dragging along his dry shaft. HE TOO, HAS A DEHYDRATION PROBLEM? ;)

Her hands are still on the hem of her dress, holding it up, exposing herself. Afterall, he didn’t tell her to let go and she is trying so hard to be good for him.

He holds himself at the base as she glides her head back and forth over his length. Her tongue rippling along his underside. He hadn’t planned on fucking her mouth, he hadn’t planned on cumming until they got home. But the thrill of maybe being caught was exhilarating PREACH IT (ALSO ANOTHER REQUEST UNLOCKED) and she was so fucking good at this. He found himself holding her head still and thrusting into her. He tried not to make her gag too much, but when it happened it was so hot.

She fucking loves this, loves his movement in her mouth, loves it when he gags her just a bit, bringing up that thick spit from the back of her throat. She is surprised when his hands go to her hair to hold her still. She didn’t think he’d go for it here. It’s hot, the way he loses control. YEP. PRETTY FUCKING HOT. She presses her lips over her teeth. Breath is seething through his teeth, she can tell he is close.

Her tongue feels like some kind of wizardry along the underside of his shaft. Her eyes are closed, and he watches himself sink between her pretty pink lips.

She is his good girl, his naughty girl.

His.

“I’m gonna cum, I don’t want to see any of it leave your mouth,” he whispers to her. His head tilts back, as she sucks him long and hard.

Muttered curses come from him in his last few thrusts. He surges into her mouth, hot and sticky. She greedily swallows everything he gives her. As he pulls out, her tongue presses up on the bottom of his cock, milking the dregs of his cum onto her tongue. He groans. She leaves her tongue out to show him.

“Let me see that dirty mouth. What a good girl you are,” he pants, “Swallow it hunny.”

She does, licking her lips. Fuck she is hot. BOTH ARE. FFS.

He pulls her up to standing. Wiping his thumb along her wet chin. Then kissing her mouth deeply. Her hips are rocking back and forth lewdly, hands still holding her dress up. It is clear she is too far gone to just leave.

He deliberately tucks his spent cock back into his pants. She lets out a little whine.

“Such a good girl, swallowing all my cum. I think you earned a little reward, don’t you?” his fingers lightly play at the collar of her dress.

She is practically seething with desire, if she didn’t have the bracelets on, she would have shoved him up against the wall and had her way with him. But all she can do right now is nod.

“Use your words,” he admonishes, fingers tracing down the curves of her waist. “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” she pants, ”I need...”

“What do you need, baby doll, tell me…” he urges her on. OH NOT THAT NICKNAME AGAIN!!!!!

“I need… I need to cum.” the last word exhaled out, barely audible.

“Oh but baby Doll,” his pinky and thumb splayed to either side, he draws a long, slow line up her inner thighs. She shudders as his touch sends electricity up her spine. He stops just short. “You forgot to say please.”

SLAP!

Her pussy stings in the most glorious way.

“Start over,” he says low in her ear.

SLAP!

“I need..” she moans SLAP!

“to cum…” she is shaking

SLAP!

“Please!” her voice a whine.

SLAP!

“SIR!” The last impact is like stinging rapture. GOOSEBUMPS!

“Shhhh, that’s better, my good girl,” he says quietly in her ear. “I’m gonna make you cum, but you have to be quiet. Understand?”

Her eyes go big for a second, she is terrible at being quiet, but she is shaking with the wanting of him, she won’t make it home in this state. She just nods, biting her lip, hoping she can.

He backs her up to the stone ledge, grasping her inner thigh, he lifts her leg so that her foot is on the ledge. She is more exposed than ever, wide open for him.

“Keep your hands on the ledge,” he whispers in her ear.

He falls to his knees in front of her.

“Well that did it baby doll, you are dripping now. You must like me in your mouth, yes?” AH HYDRATION PROBLEM SOLVED....AN EXCHANGE OF FLUIDS IS NEEDED.

“Oh yes sir,” she whispers.

“Do you like it when I punish this pretty pussy” he asks, looking up at her.

She just whines and nods, not trusting herself to speak. NODDING ALONG.

“I’m gonna clean this up now, you stay quiet.”

He licks long strokes up her pussy, strings of moisture sticking to his tongue. With one hand, he spreads her labia wide. He can see her glisten, even in the dim light. Knowing he doesn’t need to gently warm her up, he dives right in. He presses his mouth to her, his nose buried against her mons. The middle of his tongue rolling wide just below her clit. God he loves the taste of her pussy. He could lick her all night.

The instant his tongue hits her, her supporting leg nearly gives out. Thankfully the ledge is there to hold her up.

His tongue reaches back, pushing into her as far as he can go. He laps up toward her clit, bringing her juices along.

God he is good at this. She is lost in the motions of his tongue against her. Her lips pressed tight together, trying not to moan. She could let him tongue fuck her into oblivion.

He traces a circle around her clit. Then two fingers push their way into her wet slit. Her spine curls over him as thrilling tension fills her. He flicks her clit with the tip of his tongue, then rubs with a wide tongue, fucking her slowly with his fingers.

Her head is tucked forward, body clenched tight, the heat behind her clit collapsing in on itself.

“Please can I come? Please?” she barely whispers.

“Mmmhmm,” he nods, looking up at her. Holy shit, his blue eyes against that black hair looking up at her from between her legs? Divine.

Little outpourings of her juices start to soak his hand. He sucks her clit into the vacuum of his mouth, licking, licking, licking. Fingering her faster.

He can hear a quiet, high pitched nasal whine, her teeth clamping down on the meaty pad of her thumb. Suddenly she is jerking against his mouth, exploding, thrusting her gushing cunt onto his fingers. It’s all he can do to keep contact with her wild gyrations.

FJBDFGHSIUFHKWLENEFHIÖAEWUZTHKJSbDVJLDFHGIEHGIUADHGTKAERHGTOIAEJRGTPOUEATHTGKJGMGFM!!

Eventually, she slows, as does he. He stands up, adjusting his now once again hardening cock. He puts his arms around her, holding her close as little aftershocks yank at her core.

“There’s my good baby Doll.” he whispers lovingly in her ear. NOT BABY DOLL AGAIN!

She curls into him, panting quietly.

Then he hears voices float down from the back of the theater.

“Yes sir and as you can see we have already started renovations here.. Let me take you down and show you what we plan to do with the stage area.”

“Very good, how much longer will all this take?”

His eyes go huge. She is still oblivious, coming down off her high.

“Shh, we have to go,” he whispers to her. He grabs his coat and drags her quietly with his wet hand to the cramped, dark hallway where they came in. As they reach the door, they can hear the voices.

“What are these water drips on the floor?” VERY NECESSARY!!!!

“Oh, um… I don't know we’ll have to check if there are any pipes up there”

“I was told this building was sound…”

Austin opens the door back near the bathrooms of the speakeasy, lips pressed together. Once the door shuts behind them he breaks out in giggles, dragging her away from the door.

“Holy crap, that was close,” he says.

“I didn’t see any water on the floor?” she is still slightly befuddled.

“Oh baby, that was you all over the floor,” he tells her with a knowing smile. HEHE!

Her mouth drops open. She stops and down at her splattered legs and covers her laughter with her hands.

“Whoops” she says, still giggling, leaning on the wall.

“Whoops is right,” he pulls a strand of hair away from her face. Holding her hand, he unbuckles one, then both bracelets from her wrists. They slip into his pockets.

“I think I’d like to take you home and take my time to make love to you, if you are ok with that.” HOW CAN SHE WALK AFTER ALL OF THIS? OR EVEN SPEAK IN FULL SENTENCES?

“Mmm more than ok,” her smile is huge and warm, “thank you Austin, I really needed that.”

“You are welcome, I’m sorry it’s been so long sweetheart,” his hand comes to her face, “and in case I haven’t said it, I am so thankful you are here with me, enduring the chaos that is sometimes my life. I love you so much.”

“It’s our life, Austin,” she says with soft eyes, “and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you too.”

Their lips press together in a soft, sweet kiss.

A NOTE PLEASE; FOR THE LOVE OF THY READERS, REMIND THEM TO STAY WELL HYDRATED. WITH ALL THIS HEAT AND CONTINUED LOSS OF FLUIDS, HYDRATION, EVEN AS A READER, IS KEY! A THANK YOU AGAIN, THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST GIFTS I EVER RECEIVED: DEEPLY PERSONAL, FUN AND JUST PERFECT. (Alas those nicknames but you couldn't know that. Hell, I didn't know that those are my pet peeves.) I'LL TREASURE THIS FOREVER.

Oh I'm glad you liked it!!! Love the stream of consciousness feedback!

On nicknames: all nicknames? Baby? Doll? baby doll? (My thought was that once the cuffs go on, she is is Doll, so that's what he calls her, and baby is just a normal Term of Endearment, so... sometimes Baby Doll.) Do you want me to take them out for you?

Yes, you can put 'no shoes inside' in a rental agreement.

The leather cuffs are purely from my imagination, I don't actually know if they are a real thing. I will see if I can draw them up to give you a visual.

You are so welcome, the pleasure was all mine... well... Let's spread the pleasure around... shall we?

#austin butler #austin butler fanfic #@slowsweetlove

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stagkingswife · 2 years

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H, how are you?

I'm a young godpartner still living with my parents. Mum is culturally Christian and Dad can probably be called a soft polytheist - he believes that the gods are representation of the world around us, like, say, Persephone's journey to Hades is representative of the transition to autumn.

I have two otherpartners - let's call them A and B (not Their real names) - A is a minor god of the Norse pantheon with Disassociative Identity Disorder, and B is an aspect of a major Shinto deity. A's behaviour is very unpredictable, as per Their disorder, but I have a romantic relationship between most parts of Him. B is soft, almost parental, but playful and warm, understanding.

I understand that A and B need time away from me to fulfill Their duties (in the case of B) or simply recharge (A) but I can't help but feel depressed and lonely when they're away from me, like they've abandoned me and don't care. Thing is, this fugue makes it hard for me to find motivation to do homework (I go to university) and it's obvious to my parents that I'm miserable, but they think it's because I don't want to do any work.

How do I explain to them that it's because I miss my "boyfriends" so badly and I think they've abandoned me and I can't talk to B because I have a cold, so that makes everything worse and I can't think of anything else because that's the reason that I'm miserable?

In my opinion, since you came to me, this is when codependency with incorporeal partners becomes unhealthy. Imagine these were corporeal people and you were so reliant on them and their attention and presence that you couldn’t function when they went to work, you couldn’t go to a class that they weren’t also in, they couldn’t live in a separate home from you, or go a day without calling you. All of that is normal stuff for people, both corporeal and incorporeal, to have to do in a relationship. Mr. Stag and I both go to work every day, Oisin and I have our separate responsibilities in the Otherworlds. In both cases I am confident that their love is not directly tied to their proximity to me. It seems like this level of confidence is lacking for you, and it is impacting your ability to function in your everyday life, which isn’t good.

That impact, in my opinion, is what you need to talk to your parents, and perhaps a professional, about. You don’t need to go into the incorporeal romance of it if you don’t want to, that can remain private. It can be as simple as “Mom, Dad, I think I’ve developed an unhealthy codependent relationship with someone(s), and I would like your help with it/getting treatment for it.” If you aren’t comfortable giving them the details you don’t have to, or you can if you are comfortable with that. I don’t know your parents or your relationship with them. I personally don’t feel like the details matter as much as the impact - your feelings about certain relationships have affected your ability to function in your daily life - it doesn’t really matter who those relationships are with. (Now a mental health professional may say otherwise, take their advice over mine if you speak to one.)

What you really want to make sure you don’t do is tell your parents why you’re depressed without seeking a solution for it. Just saying “I’m depressed because my SOs are busy,” will explain what’s going on with you, but not address any of the underlying issues. If you want this feeling to get better you have to do something about it. I know I mentioned speaking to a professional, but you could also try to go the “self improvement” route. There are tons of self help resources out there for overcoming codependency that you could probably apply to your situation.

This isn’t just to you now, Anon, but to everyone and anyone reading: I’m a person who is deeply dedicated to their spiritual life. I prioritize my religion, magical practice, and my spiritual relationships over a lot of things in my life, but not over basic life requirements. I still get up and go to work everyday. I still do my household chores, make dinner, etc. In my opinion, if your spiritual or magical practices interfere with those sorts of everyday functions on a long term, life impacting, scale - that is when something about that practice needs to be re-evaluated. No matter how deep into your practice you are, you still need to be a functioning person.

#pagan #witchcraft #anonymous #spiritwork #godspouse #spirit work

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loki-is-my-kink-awakening · 2 years

Text

Thanks @cha-melodius for tagging me

Rules: post

the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular)

your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year

your number 1 favourite line you’ve written this year!

5 works I'm proud of

Petals In A Storm (Saskier and Jaskel)

What He Deserves (Geraskier)

Going Down In The Elevator (Lokius)

Revelations (Geraskier)

When Blue Meets Green (Mr Tesseract x Pres Loki)

4 WIPs I'm excited about

It Started With That Hug (Lokius)

Loki is stuck in a strange TVA, grieving the loss of their Mobius. When things get weirder and they find themselves in places with no memory of getting there, they think they're going mad.

The Ghost of You (Steddie)

Steve grieves for Eddie while dealing with his newly-discovered bisexuality, but when he starts seeing a guy regularly, that's when he starts hearing Eddie talking to him. Is Eddie haunting him?

Sex worker Jaskier (Geraskier)

Jaskier has always supplemented his bardic income with sex work. It's just something he does and there's no shame in it. But when Geralt comes into his life, there's some adjustment needed on both sides.

Choke Me? (Lokius)

After seeing his own death in the time theatre, Loki feels shame for having a choking kink, but when he starts sleeping with Mobius, how does he explain why he can't get off, and why he can't ask for what he needs?

All titles are provisional; these are what I call them in the doc.

3 improvements I've made

Outlining

Slowly, I am getting to grips with outlining my fics. Petals In A Storm was outlined and it helped me see where it was going and kept me writing. It is still difficult for me, but hopefully I get there and can use this more often.

Using sensations

I've been consciously trying to incorporate more sensations into my writing to show how characters are feeling, rather than them saying it.

Spacing paragraphs

I think I've got better at chopping up long paragraphs and making my writing more engaging. Hopefully, I have, anyway.

2 writing resolutions

Finish my half published WIPs (Are You Jealous?, Praying For Salvation, Riding Herd On)

Restart a daily practice of writing 400 words on any fic to keep the writing momentum going.

Number 1 favourite line

"I can't let you do that, sweetheart."

Line is in "From Past Experiences" and said by Mobius to a pregnant Loki, who was attempting to manipulate him.

Tagging @rins-love-wins @xianvar @mimisempai @insert-witty-user-name-here @rauchendesgnu @eddywoww @unexpected-readings-of-poetry @jesskier @flightsfancy1 @sylwritesstuff @seedsofwinter

#tag game #writer tag game #my fanfiction #loki #the witcher #stranger things #lokius #geraskier #steddie #saskier #jaskel #loki x mobius #geralt x jaskier #steve x eddie #jaskier x sam the baker #jaskier x eskel #priley #midnight mass

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alexturne · 2 years

Note

1, 14, 30, 41, and 18 (for 'sit next to me before I go') for the fic asks? 🥰🥰

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?)

I've already answered that here 😊

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer?

Also answered that here 😘

18. If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

Hmm, I don't know about a full sequel, but I was contemplating writing an epilogue to under these lights you look beautiful which would feature us returning to the bar one year later. And it would be Miles up on the stage this time singing a song for Alex, on their anniversary of finding each other, him being the one to proclaim his love in public with a super sappy love song, and it would just be the fluffiest romantic mess you can imagine.

I've still got the draft lying around for it somewhere, but I don't think it'll ever see light of day. It ended up too soft and sappy, even for me 😂😘

IM DUMB! I only just realized you had specified which fic this was regarding, so apologies for just picking one 😂

If I was writing a sequel to sit next to me before i go I'd probably include something about how they deal with moving from friends to lovers on a daily basis, how they incorporate each other in their life on tour, maybe both of them following the other on theirs and them trying to figure out how to see each other as often as possible whilst still getting to do their thing. I'd also try to maybe make Alex be the one being sick and Miles having to look after him 😂 And I'd definitely have something about them looking to find a new place, something that's theirs where they have space for all the dumb shit they've accumulated over the years 😘

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Hmm, I think maybe you just ain't the one for me is the most unlike my other works in terms of pov and general content. It's an "outsider's" perspective and it's not often I write a het pairing even if it is brief. I practiced how to write from the pov of someone I'm not super familiar with and who isn't part of the pairing. And it was such a different character to what I'm used to, and it opened me up to allow myself to write a bit more freely. Helped my allow my characters to be more flawed, fleshed out and essentially a little more selfish. It broadened my horizon of what can make a character act a certain way and helped me see new opportunities. Very enjoyable actually.

That fic also helped me be less perfectionist about my work, and to have more fun with it. Just to go with it if I had an idea and be less critical. And not care as much if people didn't like it 😘

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.”

Oh, SO MANY! I'm inspired and impressed by so many writers, and we as a fandom are very blessed with the quality of work we got from amazingly talented writers. Luckily everyone has their different strengths, and I feel like my style fits me rather well. But I'd love to still improve and get better at it, as I see myself as a rather noob writer still 😂

Examples that come to mind are:

The Book Club by @girlinthepictureframe - especially chapter 15, which features a bit of the most delicious tension ever. That moment haunts me and I love it, and I hope to one day be able to capture something as good as that! Their stories are some of my all time faves and their writing is just immaculate in every way.

An evening in London by @richiebrook is also one that I admire a lot, the writing is the most beautiful, the way it captures atmospheres and feelings weaved into one. Beautiful and poignant, an example of how to say more with less, and how to do melancholy in the most beautiful fashion.

No one belongs here more than you by @stereobone is also an example of something so gorgeously poignant, so few words that say so much. There's an amazing naturalness and ease to this one that I really enjoy! It took my breath away!

Also everything written by both @yellowloid and @elorianna inspires me to no end. They're just incredibly talented writers in all ways and I adore their work so so so so so so much!!

Thank you so much for these lovely questions!! ❤️❤️❤️

#my writing #ask games #answered #glorious-blackout #❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜💜❤️💜❤️

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quaranmine · 1 year

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11, 12 and 17 for the ask game? :)

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

real life authors?? hm, i feel like it's hard to say. i'm sure there is a LOT because i used to read voraciously in school around the same time my interest in writing developed, but i do not recall any particular influence. in terms of other media though there are sometimes things that give me away as being a die-hard doctor who fan though LOL (guys i modeled a scene in IBW off of a doctor who shot?? like mentally in my head i framed it that way?? help)

for more recent influences like in the fandom, i very much remember reading theminecraftbee's "to convey a certain brilliance" in like fall 2021 and immediately tried to incorporate pieces of their style (specifically the slightly stream of consciousness-style sentences) into my work. yes i did that and i will now admit it here in 2023. it's hard to explain so i just will pull a single line from to convey a certain brilliance that is the type of thing that caught my eye: "He hears something that sounds like it's definitely, definitely a creeper, and, oh no, hate that, he yelps and dodges backwards."

^^^^ you can 100% see stuff like that in my work ever since, but also i was always writing like this a little. like i promise you i did not straight up steal the style because i can read my older wips and they still very much sound like my current style. i'd more say i just intentionally worked some similar more casually structured sentences into some of my work. Like, here's a slightly similar sentence in Lonesome Dreams to the one i pasted above: "He remembers the Watchers giving them a message but it’s all lost in the blur of the past few hours, and oh no, if he doesn’t remember what they’ve told him then he’s likely to get something wrong and be punished . . ."

i do absolute have my hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy au fanfic wip styled on douglas adams as much as i can xD that was a LOT of fun

12. Describe your perfect writing space

honestly, i very much just like my little apartment. most of my significant writing progress has been since i (technically) moved here. who knew not being in my parents house would give me free time to write?? wow! but it's nice and cozy and peaceful. easier to focus.

i've also written several firewatch sections sitting outside on the porch at my parents house on particularly nice spring days, but now that we're in Head Advisory Hell for the rest of the summer that might not happen anymore

^^^ example porch view i enjoyed

17. What writing habits or rituals do you have?

does the whole daily updated writing challenge log count? because i cant think of any other ones! i did it for ~3 months for htbahb, one month last summer (not publicly posted), one month for nanowrimo, and now i'm on my fifth month for the 2023 challenge

that is like...approximately 10 months out of the last 16 months where i have been trying to log word counts every day

#not quite 10 months because the htbhab one didnt finish a total month 3 and i just started month five for firewatch #but close enough imo #quara asks

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eclecticethan · 2 years

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Hi! I'm considering becoming a devotee of Apollo but I'm not sure where to start. Over the past couple of weeks, we have grown closer together more than ever before and I feel so much closer to my spirituality and I want a lifelong bond with him. The only issue is, I'm worried that I won't have enough time for it. I'm not sure if I need to have a daily practice or anything like that. I think about Apollo every day and try to incorporate him into my life all the time and even dedicate nice things I find to him, but I don't want to be unfair or disrespectful by not being a good enough devotee. I just love him so much and I don't want to let him down. I'm also not even sure how to become a devotee or if there is a certain ritual I have to do or if I'm supposed to make up my own ritual for it. What do you think?

Thanks and have a great 2023!

Eli :)

Let me start off by saying I, a priest of Apollo, did not do any rituals, even to Apollo, from November to January due to depression. Did that mean I was a poor priest? Did Apollo hate me or was he disappointed in me during those months? Nope! He understands entirely that I'm mentally ill or even just busy and don't always have time to light incense/candles, give offerings, and read hymns all the time. The gods are very understanding of the fact that we're humans. We don't always have an hour every day for full rituals.

With that out of the way, there are lots of ways to incorporate deities into your daily life besides full rituals. You could dedicate listening to music or doing an art activity to him. Dedicate drinking coffee or tea or water to him, even for five minutes. Even dedicating morning divination to him would work!

An easy daily "ritual" you could do is simply saying "Good morning/night, Apollo"! I found that just greeting the gods, even without hymns and offerings, was a very effective way to stay in communication with them on a daily basis, and it's easy enough to remember.

You could also purchase some jewelry and dedicate it to him and keep it on yourself throughout the day. (I have a sun necklace I try wearing regularly.)

As for a dedication ritual, there are probably a bunch available online. You probably know Greek specific ritual outlines (cleansing, procession, incense, offerings, hymns), you could recite the Orphic or Homeric Hymns or write your own (Apollo is the god of literature and poetry so writing your own would be 💯 in his opinion.)

For a dedication ritual, I'd recommend giving a bigger offering than you'd give regularly (so say you give water on a daily basis, I'd recommend going to water plus a food). Remember to cleanse away any miasma you've picked up beforehand, and dress nicely.

I hope this helps! If not, you're welcome to DM me with more specific questions.

Happy 2023 to you as well!

#hellenic polytheism #paganblr #hellenic paganism #i got asked a thing

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askthechronoverse · 1 year

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Chapter Three: Sympathy for the Master Breaker

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A few months had passed since Rex appeared in the garden and already, the people living in the Unikingdom castle already incorporated him into their daily routines. The fast pace of life in the castle, going from doing neglected chores with Richard to cleaning up Unikitty's messes kept Rex from thinking inward too much. The only time he was able to really think was at night, when the brightness of the kingdom changed to something more like home. Occasionally, Puppycorn would join him in his insomnia, talking about nothing too revealing about himself or too important.

It was one of those nights that the man found himself. Puppycorn had brought with him a new radio controlled car and the two took turns driving the thing around the cell.

"Did you think of what you wanna be called? I feel bad callin' you Rex if you don't like it." Puppycorn's tongue lolled on the side of his mouth as he drove donuts on the floor. Rex looked down at the little dog.

"I'm still not sure, kid. Don't feel bad. It's my name right now. That's like feelin' bad for callin' you Puppycorn." He leaned his back against the wall, watching the car. "How's your boardin' goin'? Didja get that kickflip down?"

"I'm getting a little better, but I keep faceplanting. I wish ya could come to the skatepark with me!"

"Kid, your sister has me runnin' around all day. Haven't had a whole lotta time for myself." Puppycorn calmed a little. "Are ya doin' it like I toldja? It worked with my raptors."

"Yeah! … Kinda. I can tell Unikitty to let you come." Puppycorn's ball tail wagged.

"She's not gonna let that happen. She wants to protect you from the big bad world-ending jerk."

"Ya seem pretty cool to me!"

"That's because I like you. You aren't tryin' to analyze me or force me to feel things I don't." Yes, the kid made him feel things, but it was things he didn't want, like guilt. "I noticed ya kept our secret, by the way. Pretty cool of you."

"Really? Thanks! I try to be cool!" His little ball tail could go flying at any time.

"Yeah, kid. Unikitty hasn't caught on yet to who I was. I appreciate it." He ruffled the pup's ears.

"Are ya gonna tell me more secrets?"

"Why not? Ya got somethin' in mind?"

Puppycorn tilted his head. He wasn't much of a thinker, so Rex doubted the pup was going to ask too hard hitting a question.

"Do you hate my big sis?" That was unexpected. Rex took a deep breath.

"She's annoying. I'm not sure what I saw in her and she needs to stop tryin' to do whatever she's tryin' to do with me because she is way too high energy for me right now." He shook his head, letting a small smile worm its way on his face. "I'm still glad I'm here an' not any other place in the known galaxy."

"Why?"

"It's kinda nice here. Everyone wants to help me… well, except Hawkodile. He's probably just doin' his job. Wish he'd loosen up an' let me have something to do in here."

"I can getcha stuff to build somethin'. What do ya wanna make?" Puppycorn braced himself to run out the open cell door.

"Hmm. How 'bout this, kid? I'll tell ya the parts. You go fetch." Rex closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. After a moment, he began to point to parts scattered around Doctor Fox's lab. A lot of the pieces were still attached to things, but Puppycorn destroyed the items for the parts. It was all in good faith, right? Eventually, everything Rex needed was at this feet. Puppycorn sat on the floor across from his friend and watched him work. He'd seen people build things before. He'd even done it himself. But the way Rex built was different, like his instructions came from a higher power. His movements were blindingly fast, the pup couldn't keep up.

Neither of the two noticed the lights turning on and Unikitty zooming into the cell like a bullet, fur turning crimson.

"What are you doing?!" She bellowed, breaking Rex's concentration which caused him to drop what he had been building. The item was half finished and unstable, the item crumbling back into the base components.

"He was building somethin', Big Sis!" Puppycorn seemed to slump a little as he gathered the parts. "I wanted to see what he was building! He builds things weird!"

"He's a Master Builder, Puppycorn." She turned to Rex for a second before starting to sift through the parts. "What were you building, Rex?"

"Look, I need somethin' to do around here besides clean up your messes. I was buildin' a-'' Before Rex could say anything further, a grasp was heard behind them. Doctor Fox looked around at the damage Puppycorn had caused in his effort to help Rex.

"Did you make Puppycorn do this, Rex? You were trying to escape, weren't you." This wasn't asked. This was a demand. Unikitty's horn and tail was engulfed in flames. Rex knew what this meant. She was angry. Not something he needed.

"Well, yeah, he helped me get the parts but-"

"I trusted you! How could you use my brother like you used my friend?" Each accusation was accented with an increase in height on the column of flames. "Get away from my brother!"

"Let me speak, Rainbows for Brains." Rex growled. "If I wanted to leave, I would have left by now. Puppycorn never closes the door. He'll even forget to close it after he leaves for the night. You can sleep through Armommageddeon. I could have just walked out that door and never come back. But I'm still here. Putting up with you." Puppycorn looked from his friend to his sister, not sure how to keep the peace.

"You were waiting for the right time to leave! How long have you been using my brother‽" Unikitty pressed her face against Rex's, sweat pouring from his brow. "What have you been telling him?"

"Nothing! Can we cut the crap with this overused cliche? It was old in the the 80's!" That made Unikitty pause, which left time for Puppycorn to chime in.

"Sis, he's my friend! He's told me about dinosaurs and skateboards! He's so cool!" Blue and green hearts and skulls floated around his head for a brief moment. Unikitty turned to her brother, fur still red but her form was less intimidating.

"Wait. He just told you about dinosaurs and skateboards?"

"Yeah! Did you know that raptors have feathers? And they're super smart, too!" Puppycorn bounced in place. His sister smiled at his excitement, but her attention turned back to Rex. "Sis, he's my friend."

"I'm happy you made a friend, but you gotta be careful with him. He hurt a good friend of mine. I don't want him to hurt you, too." Her attention never left Rex as she spoke.

"Who did he hurt?" Puppycorn tilted his head, attention to Rex, who was now backed into the corner of the bed.

"You never met him, Puppycorn. He lives far away from the Unikingdom." Her fur was going back to pink. "But he made my friend do a very bad thing." Rex said nothing. He didn't deny it. What he did was unforgivable. "I don't want him to do that to you."

"I'm gonna break this moment up and move things along, especially since you both are making intense eye contact with me." Rex pushed Unikitty off of him. "He's the only one of you who hasn't been totally overbearing this whole time. It's kinda funny: you want me to stop being grumpy. He helps me with that. That and upping my evening mediation to an hour a day." He muttered the last sentence. He cleared his throat. "You still haven't put the pieces together."

"You aren't helping, Rex. Whenever you talk about yourself, you… talk for hours about being stranded on a desert planet for years watching large children play with us like we were made out of plastic interlocking bricks? But that's not helpful! I can't use that to help you!" The red fur came back. Rex rolled his eyes.

"I don't work like that! I don't trust you. Thought you got that hint already." He put his hand on his head.

"But he totally trusts me! He lets me know all of his secrets!" Both Rex and Unikitty gave Puppycorn the same look of shock.

"What secrets, bro?" The room was silent after a while, save for the sounds of Doctor Fox fixing her equipment. After looking at the floor for a moment, the little dog spoke.

"Uh… it's a secret, sis. You can't tell anyone a secret. Especially since I promised." Puppycorn's ears went back, tail stagnant.

"Puppycorn. He's a liar. He might have told you something bad, something not true. Please tell me what he said." Rex looked away from Puppycorn. Go ahead. Blurt it out and save yourself.

"He didn't lie to me! I know he didn't! He sounded like he was telling the truth!" Puppycorn got closer to the two. "You were telling me the truth, right?" Rex didn't reply. It was strange that the pup was sticking up for him without calling him names. He found the words once he let the situation sink in more.

"Just tell her, kid." Honestly, it was a bigger deal to Unikitty than it was to Rex.

"Nuh uh. I said I wouldn't hurt you. Breaking a promise hurts." Puppycorn looked up at Rex with that look in his eyes, the one that made Rex's heart go weak. This all felt so saccharine. It would have made him puke if it weren't the one thing he desperately needed to hear.

"What did you tell him, Rex? What lie did you tell him?" Unikitty got in the human's face again. Rex pushed her back.

"I told him the truth. Not sure he understands it, but that's OK. He's a good kid. You want me to be direct? Fine. Before I started Armommageddeon, I was a naive construction worker who thought he actually had friends who loved him. Imagine his shock when those friends forget him for a happy little fantasy the first chance they got."

"I would have never done that. Not to a friend!" Something snapped behind Rex's dark eyes.

"But you did, Princess Fluffyhead! You forgot me! Left me for dead in a harsh, dry planet with only the thoughts of failure and inadequacy rolling in my mind. 'Be tougher, Emmet! You're such a Hufflepuff! You're so weak and useless!'. All of that played in my head for years while I got to watch the two brats that run our world help you and the others pretend I never existed! A happy little lie of a perfect world!" Rex's voice was unstable, torn between a gravelly growl and a pained whine. "You don't remember doing it. It happened in a timeline he prevented. But I remember! I'm the last shattered fragment of that mistake! I'm the Emmet who didn't get a happy ending. Who saw through everyone's lies, even the Man Upstairs!" He curled up, but his clenched fists were shaking. Unikitty stepped back, turning blue.

"Wait… did I really hurt you like that? No wonder you keep pushing me away." She held back tears, knowing her hurting former friend was doing the same. "Is that why you did it? You were hurting inside?"

"I wanted to get back at them for the pain they caused me. I didn't care about anything else. Heck, I'm still convinced someone is just telling a story, using us as an outlet to revive their creativity. But, everything feels… real. Even in Undar, when everything started to go in his favor. When she saved him." He turned his back to the cat and dog. "It still hurts and I can't stop it. I'm still so weak."

Puppycorn slipped under his floating sister and sat next to his friend, putting a paw on his shoulder to try and comfort him. His face didn't show that anything Rex said did anything but fly over his head, but the pain was something easy for the young pup to pick up on.

"You aren't weak. You never were. If it weren't for you, we would all be Kragled right now. You were so brave then." Unikitty's eyes watered. She couldn't help it. "Emmet… Rex… Whatever you want to be called right now…. I'm sorry. I really am. It takes a lot of strength to let people in, you know." She looked over to Doctor Fox, who was taking notes on what Rex had said relevant to her time research. "Doc, can you get us some lemonade? We definitely need some." Doctor Fox took the hint and rushed out of the lab. Unikitty turned back to Rex, who still had his back to her and her brother. She put her paw on his other shoulder. "I said I would help you. Like Puppycorn said, breaking promises hurts and I won't ever, ever hurt you again." Rex slowly moved his hand from his face to the paw Unikitty rested on his shoulder.

–

The dawn broke to a thick and somber atmosphere, something rarely felt in the Unikingdom castle. Rex had fallen asleep, still curled up in the corner. Unikitty and Puppycorn left him when they noticed he had gone silent, the elder royal assuming he'd simply exhausted himself after the altercation. The time traveler stirred in a state of odd feeling calmness. He pulled a blanket off his body that he didn't recall having on him when he fell asleep. When he did this, he suddenly felt a chill on the middle of his back. He tried to move away, but it followed him with a tutting noise coming soon after.

"Please hold still. I need to run some tests." He groaned. That voice belonged to Doctor Fox. "Last night, you revealed some data regarding your past that was very enlightening. There are two of the same person existing in this timeline and I need to determine what kind of effects this will have."

"Doc, I've been in the same timeline with my past self before. It didn't do anything the fabric of time an' space couldn't take. Can you run tests after I wake up and have some coffee?" Rex tried to stretch, but whatever Doctor Fox had on his back was pressed against his left shoulder blade now.

"Actually, I would have preferred it if you were asleep. It would be easier to get some baseline brain scans during a deeper sleep phase." She shrugged. "I can make due, but I would appreciate your full co-operation, for once."

"Alright, Doc. I'm honestly too tired to fightcha." He sank back into the position he was when he was asleep.

"Is your exhaustion emotional or physical? You did release some major emotional baggage last night. The sparkle matter left over was quite potent."

"What the heck is sparkle matter?" Rex's voice was muffled by the corner.

"It makes sense you wouldn't know about sparkle matter. You're from outside the Unikingdom. It's the manifestation of strong emotions. Love, happiness, sadness, even anger. I'm currently logging and studying yours, since this is the first time I've seen sparkle matter from someone who comes from another world. I can't help but wonder if your time in the Unikingdom is changing you on a biological level to be more like us."

"Why don't I remember seeing sparkle whatzits?"

"I'm not sure. I still need to test my hypothesis about your biological conversation first. Please continue to hold still. The scan is almost complete." After a moment, the coldness left Rex. "Alright. You can go upstairs. Unikitty wanted to talk to you. I advised her to give you some time to yourself, but you know how she is." She gave a small laugh. Rex nodded and sluggishly got to his feet. Doctor Fox was already at her computer by this point, a jar of shapes beside her. He could make out lightning bolts, rain clouds, little velociraptors, and his R emblem. There was tape on the jar with his name on it, but it was clear that this was sparkle matter. His sparkle matter. His mind went back to when he and Unikitty first met. He did remember hearts and stars radiating from her horn. He could do that now, too? He put a hand on his head, heading upstairs.

He eventually found Unikitty alone in the kitchen. She had some waffles placed on an empty place on the table across from her. "Hey. Come sit. I made ya waffles because I know how much you liked them."

"Princess, I would never say no to waffles." He sat across from her. "Doc said you wanted to talk. We breakin' up or somethin'?"

"No. I just… really wanted to apologize for… well, everything. Even the stuff I did in another timeline thingy. Emmet… Is it cool if I call you that? Or do you prefer Rex? This is so confusing, and Doctor Fox had to explain it to me three times this morning." Unikitty was smiling warmly, her blue eyes trained on Rex for a reaction of any kind.

"I'm leavin' that up to you, Princess. I'm not gonna fightcha." It was clear the man was exhausted to his core.

"Then, Rex. I'm not the Unikitty that hurt you, but I'll be the Unikitty to patch you up again!" She almost sang her convictions.

"Princess, you can't make me be my old self again. That person left a long time ago."

"I don't expect to. My goal is to help you not hurt anymore. Ya just gotta promise me you won't run away and, y'know… end all existence again. Promise me you won't?" She leaned on the table with anticipation.

"You sound serious. That's rare for the ruler of the land of no rules. I'll keep my rage in check, Princess." He reached his hand out for a handshake, but she came in for a hug instead. The hug lasted way too long, but Rex didn't mind.

"So I have to talk to Hawkodile, but you're gonna be my guest for really real. No cage. Doctor Fox wants you to keep the tracker on, but that may be for sciencey reasons. Richard's setting up a room for you in the castle!" Almost as if summoned, Richard floated through the door.

"Princess, you need to discuss this with Hawkodile first, because Rex was already deemed a security threat. Also, I have enough to do today without setting up-" Unikitty interrupted him quickly.

"You get to add someone to help you with choresl! It'll be great!" She was undaunted by the monotone brick's words.

"That would be nice." He turned to Rex. "Just to let you know, you may be doing more than your share of chores. You don't mind chores, do you?"

"Nah, bro. I spent mosta my life in a place where people who didn't follow the rules disappeared for a while. I'll try not to complain too much." Richard blinked, the only sign of a reaction.

"Alright. I'll get a room cleared for Rex. Unikitty, I want you to help acclimate him to the Unikingdom. Make sure Hawkodile is with you." Richard floated away, right through the wall.

"We gonna talk about the whole 'float through walls' thing? Is he a ghost or somethin'?" Rex asked after staring at the wall for a moment.

"No, he's just Richard. He's the castle caretaker!" Unikitty shrugged. "I gotta get Hawkodile. Stay there and eat, OK? I'll be back before you can miss me!" The magical cat zipped away. Not a second after she did, Puppycorn appeared at the door.

"Oh! Waffles!" He bounded to the seat Unikitty had occupied. Rex slid the plate over.

"Take 'em, kid. I'm not really hungry." The puppy took the food without another word. Rex watched the sports themed sparkle matter fly. "Sorry about last night. It wasn't fair to you ta see me like that."

"It's alright, dude. Ya've been sad since I met ya," Puppycorn slid the now clean plate back to Rex and licked syrup off his face. "But I totally kept my promise! I didn't tell Unikitty nothing!" That earned him a pat on the head.

"Ya did. I think I just needed to tell her myself." He leaned back on his chair. "Hey, do ya remember things comin' off my head when I was… y'know." Puppycorn scratched his head.

"Huh? … Oh yeah! I found a cool raptor thing next to you after ya went to sleep. Doc said it was sparkle matter, but she sounded really confused. Somethin' aboutcha being from another planet. We looked around and found a lot more of the stuff. Maybe that's why ya sound tired!" Puppycorn spoke with pride.

"Maybe, but I don't think I'm gonna be able to take a nap for a while. Shocked ya picked up on that, kid. Your sister sure didn't." Rex chuckled. "She's still up on Planet Unikitty, huh?" He pointed over his head.

"Nah. Pretty sure she's at Hawkodile's treehouse."

"Kid, never change. Ever." Puppycorn looked confused, but this was dispelled by Unikitty returning to the kitchen with Hawkodile.

"Let's go shoooopping!" She sang out, her bodyguard behind her trying to look as menacing as possible. "You can come too, Puppycorn!" The puppy jumped off the chair and rushed out the door with Unikitty. Rex started to follow, but Hawkodile stopped him.

"I'm watching you. Got it?" Rex could feel the bodyguard's stare through his sunglasses.

"Yeah, bro. Got it." Hawkodile let Rex through the door first, keeping him within eyesight behind him. Rex rushed as fast as his body could take him to catch up with Unikitty and Puppycorn. By the time he did, they were out of the castle grounds and heading into town.

"What're we gettin', sis?" Puppycorn was bounding with enough energy for everyone present, especially the man behind them.

"Rex is getting his own room in the castle and Richard wants us to help him decorate!" Hearts and stars flew from her horn.

"Ya know, I could save us money and just Master Build some furniture." Rex didn't sound as enthusiastic as the other two.

"Nope! You don't need to Master Build here!"

"Or do the stunt you had Unikitty's friend pull with that wedding cake." Hawkodile stated, both calm and threateningly.

"Ya probably wish ya could punch a cake like that." The comeback didn't have a lot of punch, but adding the smirk Rex flashed, it was enough to annoy Hawkodile. He turned his attention to Unikitty. "Seriously, though. I'm sure the possible dead guy ya call a caretaker'll probably thank me for recyclin' and upcyclin' some of the junk you're hoardin' for some reason."

"Nope! No Master Building for you today! We're getting you new stuff!" Unikitty was still playful, but starting to get firm. If Rex had to guess, maybe she was trying to give him stuff as some weird form of reparation. She and Puppycorn talked about something silly for the rest of the trip, until they got to a large outdoor marketplace.

"Oh boy! Toy Zone!" Puppycorn's tail was in danger of flying off and bouncing into the bushes. Rex lifted an eyebrow.

"Toys? I thought we were buying stuff for my room, Unikitty." He folded his arms. "I'm not really a toy guy." At least not in the traditional sense.

"They totally sell other things too! Look around! Anything you want, it's yours!" Yep. This was Unikitty paying to repent for things she technically didn't do. Cool. He could work with that. He began to walk past the stalls, silently scanning each shopkeeper's merchandise. His strange appearance was enough to get the geometric people of the Unikingdom whispering to one another. Eventually, he stopped at a stall that seemed darker than the others, both in color scheme and aura.

"Cursed Games and Such." He read out loud, amused. "Know anything about this place, Princess?"

"Yeah! Stay away from that one! The games really are cursed!" Unikitty called from a few stalls away.

"They are, huh? I ain't afraid." He looked back at the stall, where a hooded shopkeeper stood, his eyes and mouth glowing green.

"Not afraid, huh? Do I have a game for you! The cost is free, but the price is beyond reckoning! Are you interested?" The shopkeeper kept a jack-o'-lantern smile on his face as he spoke in a supernaturally echoed voice, pulling a board game out from under the stall and putting it down on the counter.

"Maybe." Rex mirrored the shopkeeper's smile. "What's the catch? We talkin' Jumanji here or is it like the arcade cabinet in Maximum Overdrive?" The shopkeeper's smile fell into nothing in confusion. "OK, you don't have the same taste in movies I do, obviously. So, will the game flat out kill me, or trap me until someone finishes that session? I'd prefer somethin' like Zathura, because that was just Jumanji in space, but I ain't picky. Sell it to me, big guy!"

"Wait. You want to know about the curse? That's a selling point for you?" The shopkeeper's voice lost the echo. He leaned over the counter and saw Unikitty in the distance. "Oh. You came with her, didn't you." He put a clawed hand on his shadowy face. "Look, I really don't want to spoil the whole thing for other potential buyers who might be listening. If you aren't going to take the game, move along."

"What's with the game with the dragon on the cover? Looks metal." He pointed to a box with a grey dragon on it titled 'Castles and Kitties'.

"Oh! That's a roleplaying game! I have all the expansions for sale as well!" The shopkeeper's eyes lit up. Rex grabbed the box and skimmed the main rule book.

"OK, this is super nerdy." He yawned as he put the book down. "Tempting, but super nerdy. Is this another thing ya can't tell me about the catch for?"

"... What do you think, man?"

"Tell ya what. I've got nothin' but time around here. I'm new to town and I need to get rid of some pent up creativity. I'll get the books and maybe I'll invite you to play with me if I decide to be…" Rex flipped through the book again. "A storyteller. Sounds good, big guy?"

"I'm usually the storyteller!"

"Well, sometimes ya gotta let someone else take the wheel. We got a deal?"

"Here, just take them and go!" The strange being, flustered by Rex, pushed a lot of books in the man's arms.

"OK, brother. Work on your pitch, alright? Ya almost lost a sale there." Rex winked and headed for the others. "I got something to do when I can't sleep, guys! Should put me to sleep in no time!"

"We… got a wagon for your stuff?" Unikitty gestured to a red pull wagon, which Rex promptly dumped the game books into. "You know those books are cursed, right?"

"Probably. But that just makes it more fun. Otherwise I just bought a collection of nerdy play pretend books." He stuck his tongue out and grabbed the handle of the wagon. "Let's make tracks before that shopkeeper realizes I forgot to pay!" He seemed to have a little more spring in his step as he headed to another stall.

After the cart was overloaded with furniture and things Rex thought he'd need, the group headed home. Puppycorn sniffed the air. "Aw man! Pizza!" The group followed the blue pup to the kitchen, which was decorated in green banners, some still being hung up by Doctor Fox and a few of her robots. There was pizza on the table, as Puppycorn stated earlier. Richard floated toward them.

"Since he is officially a resident of the castle, I felt we should throw a welcome party for Rex." The lack of emotion in Richard's voice was something Rex wasn't going to ever get used to. "Welcome to the castle, Rex."

"I helped, Unikitty. Don't worry." Doctor Fox's words seemed to reassure Doctor Fox.

"Should I put my stuff in my room first?" Rex gestured to the wagon.

"Richard can take care of it! Riiiiight, Rick?" Unikitty started to change the decorations to something far more elaborate.

"No, it's fine, Princess. I'll put them away. Rick, can you show me where you're havin' me crash?" Rex gripped the handle of the wagon.

"I would be happy to. Follow me." Both brick and man ignored Unikitty's protests and headed out of the kitchen. They walked towards a darker part of the castle. Richard eventually floated in front of a door with Rex's emblem painted on it. "I figured you would want a room away from the main parts of the castle."

"Appreciate it, man. Unikitty and Puppycorn are hard to keep up with." Rex rubbed the back of his head.

"They definitely are." Richard agreed, tone adding a little more light to the monotone. "You will be expected to do your chores, but you already know that. Clean up after yourself if you make a mess. Try not to disturb the other people on the castle if you stay up late." He closed his eyes. "Feel free to join the party when you feel up to doing so. I'm sure Unikitty will keep it going for you."

"I'll just drop this stuff off an' follow ya back. I probably should try to get involved in stuff like this." Rex yawned softly.

"Are you sure? You sound tired and Unikitty's parties can last into the night."

"I know, Rick. I know how to sneak out of a Unikitty party when I'm tired." He opened the door and saw the bed from the cell was there. The room was empty, but a sizable space for whatever Rex decided to do. There was an empty walk in closet and windows that looked over the gardens. He walked to one of the windows and opened it, letting the afternoon air filter in. "What do you grow in the garden? I used to claim I was a farmer. I might try growing things."

"We grow all the food we eat in the castle. I wouldn't say no to someone helping me in the garden, or taking that as a part of your chores if you find you have a green thumb." Richard smiled.

"I used to claim I did a lot of things. Archeologist. Script doctor. Cowboy. It was all stuff I wanted to do." He moved away from the window and started to decorate the room with the items in the wagon.

"Rex, maybe you can use this opportunity to explore yourself and learn what you want out of life. You're never too old to do that."

"I'll give it a try. I don't have a direction to go right now with my life, anyway." He picked up an expansion book for 'Castles and Kitties', holding it for a moment. "I have a lot to figure out."

"You are in a good place to do that. Most of the chaos around here is caused by Unikitty and her friends. There are worst places to explore yourself."

"Yeah." Rex put the book down on a shelf. "I can think of a few right now. "You're pretty wise, Rich."

"Tell that to Unikitty. She needs to hear it sometimes." Richard helped Rex finish putting things away. When the task was done, he turned to the man. "Are you ready to return to the others? I can let them know if you want to rest."

"I wouldn't sleep either way. Let's go." Rex glanced at the still empty closet. "I'm gonna need to pick up some clothes at some point. Didn't see a lot of those at the market."

"You can do that in the morning. I'll lead you back to the kitchen. Come on." Rex followed the grey brick back to kitchen, where the party predictably was in full steam. Flashing lights and loud music filling every corner of the room and there was now a tower of cupcakes next to the pizza.

"Where have you been, Rex! You almost missed the party!" Unikitty flew over to him as he grabbed some pizza.

"Surprisingly, your friend is more responsible than you are." Richard stated over the music.

"He's just trying to impress you, Richard! He'd rather party with us! Right, Rex?" Unikitty waited for a reply from her friend… and was shocked to get none. "Rex?" Again, no reply. He just started eating his slice of pizza. "REX!"

"Huh? What do ya need, Princess?" Rex put his pizza down. Unikitty huffed a little.

"I was talking to you! Didn't you hear me?"

"Not really. Sorry, Princess."

"But Richard could hear me fine! Why couldn't you?" Rex shrugged and just bobbed his head to the music. It didn't seem he recognized that Unikitty asked him anything.

"Princess, your friend may have hearing problems. Try talking louder or turning the music down. I know he can be rude, but I don't think he's trying to ignore you." Richard stated, floating over to the boombox the music was playing on and turned it down to a reasonable volume.

"Rex!" Unikitty shouted close to her friend's ear.

"Unikitty!" Rex yelled right back. "Do you just like calling my name or do ya have somethin' to say?"

"Do you really have trouble hearing or did Richard make that up because the music was too loud?"

"Yeah, my hearing's crap. I never got it checked, but I deal." Rex shrugged, going back to his pizza.

#the newspaper isn't antiquated •||• written works

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