#remember to sleep more than 4 hours a day fr

[mag-loopy]

Have you seen venti?

Now you have :)

[queenofallimagines]

Needy Embarrassing sex with Sae

A/N: Daydreaming about this mans dick what else is new🙄😒 imagining he’s in charge of helping the new manager get accustomed to the team and he can’t help but let his eyes wander

EDIT: MDNI but here’s an audio reference for y’all who not picking up what I’m putting down💕 twitter link 🥰

Sae:

- this one gave me butterflies Ngl

- Bc I can hear his voice

- Like I said he’s a lot more Tame than Rin so he does have an occasional soft spot

- ESPECIALLY for cute little things who can’t even remember the name of half the teammates they’re managing

- Since he’s the best of the best coach obviously tells him to whip you into shape

- “Try not to scare this one off”

- “Not my fault you signed off on someone who can’t even fill a water bottle”

- The coach is praying for you fr

- Surprised that you take the initiative to approach him first to ask him about things

- “I mean you ARE the star midfielder right? You probably have a good read on everyone and how they work so asking you would be my best bet.”

- Okay he loves a go getter

- Pleasantly surprised that you’re asking good questions

- “I’m trying to get as much info as possible so this becomes second nature.”

- Gives you a through rundown of the schedule and what time they take breaks

- Obviously he’s a diva so he’s the most demanding

- Giving you a tour around the facilities

- “That’s the locker room. Wouldn’t recommend walking by here between the hours of 4:45 and 6pm”

- “…..I’ll keep that in mind.”

- Finds showing you around not annoying

- Once you get to the dorms he’s listing off everyone’s sleeping habits

- “He won’t wake up before 8:30 am so if you can manage that congratulations”

- He’s been eyeing you this entire time but he can’t help it!

- He’s a hard worker so anyone putting in honest effort into anything especially when it pertains to him catches his eye

- Not his fault you look good taking notes and analyzing your surroundings

- Stands back when showing you the rooms so he can sneak a peek at your ass

- You feel him glaring holes into your back but it’s not for the reason you think

- He’s infamous for being kinda a spoiled brat but he produces amazing results so who’s gunna say something to him??

- Lmao not I said the cat

- You don’t even peep his heated gaze until you bump into him walking backwards

- Turning around quickly to apologize before he can catch an attitude his eyes are quite literally undressing you

- This man’s whole life is sports so ofc he’s gunna find a track suit sexy

- Will play it off like he’s not embarrassed for getting caught

- “Cat got your tongue? Don’t tell me you’re just now getting star struck.”

- Mans is giggly asf in the back of his head

- He fr ain’t seen someone catch his eye like this in a while

- Logically getting his dick wet right now would be nice

- But also with the new manager on the first day??

- weighing the options in his head and the way you look up at him and go

- “What about you? What do you want from your manager?”

- He threw caution to the wind

- Everyone else is busy with practice and he can make up some lukewarm ass excuse as to why you guys took so long

- Testing the waters by letting one of his hands rest on your lower back

- Mamma ain’t raise no bitch so he’s relieved you immediately return his energy

- He’s not wasting anymore time and pulls you in for a kiss

- Mans is STARVED for intimacy like this so he’s definitely a little more vulnerable

- Like that’s definitely the reason your lips fit so well against his

- Why your body curves into his so nicely when he carries you to his bed

- Yeah that’s definitely it

- Feeling himself get embarrassingly hard so fast he’s feverishly tugging at your sweatpants

- “Let me make you feel good, there you go.”

- The quiver in his voice isn’t missed

- You have a once in a lifetime free pass to tease THE Itoshi Sae

- PLEASE TAKE IT!!

- Grind your hips into his while tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck and he will let out some of the sweetest moans for you

- It really has been a while the way his hands are shaking to pull off his own clothes

- Pull him down to kiss you, distracting him from his current task

- He’s weak for being pushed around a little

- Throws your legs over his shoulders without warning

- The way he’s got your legs spread wide for him and he’s eye level with what he wants has you avoiding eye contact at all costs

- Moving his head between your thighs he’s damn near moaning with his mouth all over you

- Holds your trembling thighs still right beside his ears as he shamelessly moans into your cunt

- “You taste so fucking good, gonna use my fingers.”

- This man has not had pussy I’m so long he’s acting FOOLISH

- If he even took a moment to BREATHE he would be giving you heart eyes

- The way he’s singing praises while sucking your clit and angling his fingers to hit your g-spot all at once

- Man is filthy, and he’s not at all ashamed like he’s grown

- Spitting on your clit before he starts rubbing it with his thumb

- While his mouth and other hand are busy getting as much of your taste as possible

- The type of man to need to lay a towel down no matter WHAT your doing in bed

- Very “wait I didn’t shave” “did I ask all that??” Energy imo

- He’s gunna have you cumming on his sheets anyway so what do all that matter??

- Looks up and sees you covering your face trying to keep your noises down and that shit don’t fly w him

- “Keep covering your face and I’ll tie your hands to the bed.”

- And he’s dead serious too

- Comes up to kiss you not caring if you taste yourself because he wants to feel your lips THAT bad

- The way he refuses to break eye contact only serves to make you more shy because they’re glossed over with desire

- making sure you can’t squirm away from him has he has you cumming on his fingers

- “Feel good?… Yeah? like how i stretch you out? Let me feel you come undone then.”

- Whew IK he talks you through it😫

- “Keep your eyes open.”

- “S-sae I can’t-“

- “You can and you will, pretty thing.”

- Feels your nails digging into your wrists as you clench around his fingers

- “Ah. Almost there? Make a mess f’me.”

- Almost came in his pants watching your eyes roll back

- Since he IS shameless he’ll lick his fingers clean as you’re forced to watch him

- Dramatic as fuck the way he groans about you tasting good

- “Let me watch you play with it.”

- Watching your small fingers curl inside your pussy as you mewl in embarrassment almost has him intoxicated

- Throwing his damn clothes anywhere

- He’s not too stupid to not tease you a little tho

- “If you’re that shy turn around and hide your face in the pillows”

- Nothing is EVER that easy with him

- Cursing and grunting under his breath as he slips it in

- “How about you set the pace. Fuck me how you want”

- Chuckles as you hide your face in the pillows while fucking back into him

- He knows how to put on a performance before all else too

- “Use my cock cmon, make me proud and fuck me good pretty.”

- He’s moaning like a whole ass pornstar head thrown back and everything

- Trying not to move because this is your “punishment” for being all shy

- Can’t help it when you look back at him face clearly burning and whimpering at how embarrassing this is

- Praising you which makes it even MORE embarrassing

- “There you go” “fuck me till I come cmon” “you can do it”

- Like bro SHUT UP😭

- However the way you’re squeezing him tells otherwise

- When he feels you come around him he grits his teeth and says a small sorry in his head before he shoves your face into the mattress

- Feeling you wrapped about him had him fr loosing his mind

- Might skip all of practice just to keep doing this

- “Mhm, you can cum on this dick.. i wanna see it messy."

- Stretches out his words and talks all slow

- He is an Itoshi though unfortunately

- “W-wait Sae, 's too much, you're too fucking big."

- Has you seeing stars like never before

- Clit pincher🗣️ hair puller🗣️

- “Sayin’ it's too much but whining for more? Can't make up your then mind I’ll decide for you.”

- Pushing you deeper into the mattress with his whole body weight

- Grunts and moans RIGHT into your damn ear because you’re squeezing him so might tighter shouldn’t he tell you how good you’re making him feel?

- “At least your cunt knows what she wants, pretty pussy sucking me in and won’t let go. Want me to fill you up that damn bad?”

- Failed to take into account that all he wants to do now is lay down and spoon you while you cockwarm him

- But alas this is the shared dorm and NOT his apartment

- And he has no clue how long y’all been at it

- Helps you clean up while wobbling slightly

- Makes sure there’s no trace of what yall did but the sheets to his bed being in the washing machine

- Nobody thinks nothing bc he’s an upper class brat who needs things to be pristine

- Some people get suspicious when it happens like 5 times a week though….

- He does all his laundry separate so there’s no one to see how your underwear accidentally falls out the pocket of one of his jackets

- Everyone congratulates you on somehow going above and beyond so well that The Sae Itoshi acknowledged you!

- He didn’t think after the first time that looking at your ass you’d be enough to make him embarrassingly hard in public but oh well

- “Continue in my absence I’m going to check if the manager has the new schedule.”

- A few people see red scratches peeking out his jersey but meh probably just the imagination

[natasha-in-space]

SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR RIKA TOO OMG?? I could cry fr I’m so happy T T

Ok so, may I request a scenario where X (Rika, Jihyun and Jumin if u can!) are w/ their S/O and at some points they realise they met once in their childhood (?) like one of those encounters that remain impressed in your mind, even as time passes and you go on w/ your life. Idk if I explained it well;;; ofc u are free to ignore this if it’s a difficult request djbdjdbdjsj In any case, have good day/night!!

–🌹

Hi anon!! Rika is actually my third favourite character in mm after the Choi twins, so I'm more than happy to write for her! :D This was a very fun request to write, so thank you so much for requesting something so interesting ✧

Jumin

This was one of those days you just wanted to forget that they ever happened. You woke up late, finding out in a panic that you were late for your appointment, which is why you had no time to eat proper breakfast or even make yourself look somewhat presentable. The feeling of loneliness that inevitably came with waking up all alone without your husband waiting for you right by your side did not help much with the utmost horrible start of this new day.

Jumin was out on one of his business trips, leaving you in charge of his penthouse for a few days. It was becoming more and more rare for you two to part ways due to his job, but this was one of those occasions when your schedules just didn't match. At which you were quickly starting to curse and cuss inside your own mind as you were being continually bombarded with one bad luck after another.

Somehow, you managed to slip on ice on your way to your first destination, had to find out that you were now supposed to wait in line for a whole hour, dropped your coffee, and to top it all off, Jumin's flight home was postponed for a whole 4 hours.

To say you were in a bad mood would be the understatement of the year.

As you finally reached your couch, you practically collapsed onto the soft cushions, not even bothering to throw away your coat or kick off your shoes. Before you could even breathe a tired sigh of relief, you felt hot frustrated tears burning in the corners of your eyes, which, ironically, only made you feel even more irritated. An angry sob wrecked your entire body as you clawed at your clothes with frustrated desperation.

You were angry with the world and you were angry with yourself for bursting into tears over one bad day.

You didn't remember how you fell asleep. All you knew is that you probably cried yourself to sleep, which was a pretty fitting end to the disgusting day you just had.

What you didn't expect was to awake to the heavenly smell of fresh strawberry pancakes that you knew by heart. You shot awake, quickly jumping up onto your wobbly legs and regretting that action mere seconds later.

As you tumbled back onto the couch, clutching onto your forehead all while your head spun in a clear protest to your rash movements, you heard soft footsteps coming your way. And, sure enough, once you opened your eyes once more, you saw Jumin kneeling down beside you, placing a plate of fresh pancakes on the coffee table.

"My love... Did something happen? I was quite worried to see you passed out on the couch like that. You're not sick by any chance, are you?" His words were laced with worry as he reached out with his hand to check on your forehead. You merely shook your head, chucking under your breath at the embarrassing situation you put yourself into.

"No, no... I'm fine. I just had a terrible day, and I was too upset and frustrated with everything to follow up with my evening routine as usual. I knew you were in a plane by that time, so... I may or may not cried myself to sleep?"

Jumin furrowed his brows, obviously not pleased with your answer. Still, he didn't try to scold you or lecture you on what you did wrong. Instead, he just let out a quiet sigh before placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead and caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. "It pains me to hear that... But, I suppose we can't always avoid upsetting circumstances getting in our way. I'm just sad to know that I couldn't be there for you when you needed me."

You smiled, leaning into his warm touch and enjoying the closeness that you missed so dearly. "Don't worry about it. You're here now. And I'm being completely honest when I say that none of it is bothering me now that you're back. Those pancakes smell amazing!"

As you leaned forward from your place on the couch, you felt your hand touch something soft, which made you let out a low 'uh', before you glanced down at the odd object that your hand has landed on. To your utter shock, what you saw was a small plushie of a black cat with a suit on it. Your breath hitched in your throat, as you quickly lifted the toy up to take a closer look.

This... This is just a coincidence, right?

Even though the plushie was soft to the touch, you could see that it had worn out, pointing at the fact of it being quite old. You could feel your heart hammering inside of your chest as your hands have began to shake.

"Y/N? Is something wrong?" You heard Jumin whisper with clear concern clouding his soft grey gaze. Before he could question you any further, though, you pulled the plush cat to your chest, swallowing nervously.

"Jumin... H-how long did you have this toy?"

Your question was followed by a tense silence for a few agonizingly long moments, before your husband tilted his head to the side in obvious confusion. "This...? It's a gift I got from when I was little. I just remembered you mentioning how much you loved things like these, so I decided to bring it out in case it might cheer you up. Why do you ask?"

Your breathing quickened as pieces of the puzzle slowly started to form a clear picture. "...Mr. Fancy-Pants."

You heard Jumin's own breath hitch as his eyes widened in an expression of shock you rarely saw him show to anybody. It seems like you both shared the same thought as he managed to find the right words again. "Where... did you hear that name?"

Your voice trembled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "B-Because I named it. I met a strange boy in one of my classes that reminded me of this toy my parents gave me. So I gave it to him, because he always seemed so lonely for some reason. I called it Mr. Fancy-Pants, since I never saw that boy wear anything but fancy suits and ties... Oh my god, Jumin, it- It was you, wasn't it-?"

Your voice broke on your last word, making all of your emotions spill free. You felt Jumin's own hand start to shake as he took hold of the small plush toy with such tenderness, it looked like he was afraid that it'll break if he squeezed it just a little bit too tight. "...Nobody ever gifted me anything like that before. I thought it was so strange... to gift someone an object that reminded you of them and not want anything in return. I always thought that gifts were supposed to be useful. But... That day, I felt so weirdly honored to receive such a heartfelt gift from someone I didn't even know personally."

He carefully placed Mr. Fancy Pants on the nearby pillow before cupping your damp cheeks into his hands and meeting your lips with his own in a soft and loving kiss that made you melt into him, letting all of your overwhelming feelings ran freely through you, however embarrassing it may be.

"I never believed in fate... But, Y/N, with you? I refuse to think that it is a mere coincidence. We were meant to be. You always made me see the world in a different light. I should have guessed on this possibility earlier. My only regret is that I didn't give you anything in return... But now, I have all the time in the world to give back what I couldn't before. I'll be forever grateful to fate for bringing you to me, my love."

Jihyun

"C'mon, we're getting pretty close now!" You exclaimed excitedly as you tugged at your husbands hand, pulling him along through the grassy field.

Your response was a breathy laughter, while he tried his best to keep up with your fast-paced steps that were now bordering on a full-on sprint. Still, he made no attempt to slow you down or let go of your hand, instead merely enjoying the chance to see you this bright and bubbly. You were like a ray of sunshine, burning brightly with its eagerness to spread the light it loved so much to everyone around it.

Besides, a little bit of workout was just what he needed at times!

"Honey, while you know I love seeing this adorable side of you, how will you even remember where you buried it in the first place?" He asked, looking around the playground and searching for any particularly odd object lying around that could possibly serve as a clue to this mystery.

You puffed out your chest with pride, flashing him a quick wide grin that made his chest fill up with butterflies. "Don't you worry about that, my loyal assistant! My memory is excellent at documenting even the finest of details."

"Now that I beg to differ." Jihyun poised with a playful chuckle falling from his lips before he could do anything to stop it. "I distinctly remember you forgetting where you put your keys just yesterday... Or maybe it's just my own memory deceiving me?"

You were quick to choke on your own words, much to his delight. "T-thats- Ugh, that's totally different! It's a very special memory to me, so I'll have no problems remembering everything I need."

You pursed your lips in deep concentration as you looked over the green landscape, searching for something specific that he just couldn't put his finger on. Suddenly, your eyes lit up with pure joy, and before he could utter a single word, you were pulling him along once again, practically bouncing on your feet. "There! Next to that oak tree! I'm sure of it!"

And just like that, Jihyun found himself digging at the ground with a small pink toy shovel that you two borrowed from Lucy. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty. Especially not when you looked so eager to see the result of all this digging. He raised his arm to wipe the sweat off his brow as the summer heat made itself known the longer you sat under the direct sunlight. "So, what exactly is in that time capsule? I remember doing something similar with one of my drawings, so I'm very curious to see what is in that treasure that we're looking for."

You pased, raising a brow at him before replying. "Huh. Weird. It's a drawing too, actually. Not mine, though."

Jihyun felt his heart fluttering, for just one fleeting moment, before he shook off the strange feeling with one jerk of his head. And just in time for his plastic shovel to bump into something sturdy, signifying the end to your tireless digging. He quickly reached out into the small hole to grab onto the glass bottle and pull it out with relative ease.

You let a celebratory woop, clapping your hands and rewarding him with a tender kiss on the cheek. "Yes! See, I told you I knew where it was! Now, let's open it!"

He could only chuckle warmly as you grasped the bottle out of his hands and thoroughly brushed off the dirt from its smooth surface, being careful so as to not accidentally drop it out of your fingers. Leaning over your shoulder, he watched you open up the so called 'time capsule' with a distinct 'pop' as the lid was finally carelessly thrown to the side.

What laid inside was a small crumpled up paper with a blue crayon stacked neatly next to it. For the second time today, Jihyun felt his heart flutter with a weird feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. Still, deciding to keep quiet for now, he merely watched as you delicately reached inside and pulled up the paper to lay it onto the ground.

And, as you slowly rolled it out to reveal the image doodled inside, he felt his stomach twist and turn at what he saw.

"This is..."

You cocked your head to the side innocently, just watching him touch the drawing with trembling fingers.

"Jihyun...?" You murmured, feeling genuine concern well up deep within your chest at such a strange reaction coming from him. You reached forward to gently touch his cheek, finding him quivering underneath your fingertips, making your worry that much worse. "Hey, are you okay? What's wrong...?"

"This is... y-your portrait. But it... it couldn't be you, it... it's impossible... the one with a sunflower backpack...?"

Time seemed to freeze as you registered the meaning of his words within your mind. A loud gasp escaped you, making you put both of your palms to your mouth in pure shock. You could see your own emotions reflected in Jihyun's bewildered gaze, which only amplified the raging feelings wrecking havoc inside your chest. "Oh my God... Jihyun, how could I- how could I forget something like this-!"

Before you could even think twice about it, you found yourself enveloped in his warm embrace, with your own arms squeezing him tightly in return. You could feel his body shudder with quiet sobs as your own tears dampened the fabric of his shirt. He stroke your head with a trembling hand, whispering into your ears: "This was one of the first drawings I ever did... I thought it looked so ugly, but you smiled at me with such pure joy, I found myself feeling proud of something I've created for the first time in a while. To think that it was you all along... I'm sure that you're a blessing that my mother sent to me. I will treasure you in my heart forever."

Rika

"You never told me you had any tattoos done! Is it okay if I see them?" Rika was practically buzzing with excitement, looking at you with wonder swimming in her mesmerizing emerald-green gaze, which quickly took your breath away.

God... she's just way too cute when she gets excited. And knowing that you're the source of that excitement... Well, it made your chest swell up with pride.

You smiled bashfully, scratching the back of your neck and letting out a few flustered giggles despite your attempts to hide just how much of an effect her antics were having on you. "Well... Sure, okay. They're really nothing special though... I didn't know you'd get this bubbly over them!"

She merely brushed your mumbling away with a wave of her hand, shifting a tiny bit closer to place a quick kiss to your lips that tasted faintly of vanilla and lemon cupcakes you two enjoyed just a moment prior. This was your first anniversary. What better way to celebrate it than to prepare a cozy picnic in a secluded part of the nearby park? You were more than happy to see Rika flourish through her weekly therapy sessions and tireless efforts to better herself.

This time however, she was doing this for her own happiness and no one else's. While it was still hard for her to focus on her own needs at times, you did your best to provide her with all the support she might need. Today was the day you wanted to spoil her rotten, just as she deserved.

Though, you were quickly wretched away from your sugary daydreams by a gentle pinch to the skin of your cheek as your girlfriend raised her eyebrows at you quizzically. "Is there something on my face? You've been staring at me for a while now."

You quickly flushed, stuttering on your own words as you tried desperately to justify your blatant staring. "O-oh, sorry. You just look so beautiful right now, and I guess... I sort of got lost in reminiscing about everything we've gone through so far. I-I can show you my tattoos now, if you want to, of course."

Rika blinked, processing your words inside of her head for a few moments, before her own cheeks turned into a lovely shade of pink, making her light freckles seem that much more defined, much to your delight. "You can't just change the subject like that, it's unfair!"

You chucked, returning the favor by slowly taking hold of her hand and bringing it up to your lips to leave a loving kiss on the skin on her knuckles.

"Mmm... Right. I'm sorry. I hope this kiss will be enough to forgive me, my lady."

It seems that you've won in this battle of charms, judging by the quiet flustered squealing that followed suit. She did always have a weakness for hand kisses... You smiled as you watched her ears flush the same color as her cheeks, enjoying this moment of peace to the fullest.

Calming her racing heart, Rika puffed out her cheeks at you. "Okay, now you have to show me your tattoos! That's the least you can do for bullying me with your flirting."

"Fair enough." You shrugged as you took a sip of your strawberry lemonade, before patting down a spot right next to you in a silent invitation for her to join you. Once she did as you requested, you placed your head onto her shoulder, breathing in her comforting scent and closing your eyes to relax completely. "You see, there's actually a story behind my tattoos. A silly one, sure, but it makes me feel happy up to this day."

Feeling her nod, you smiled, lifting up the fabric of your pants to reveal the skin of your legs up to your thighs. Adorning the skin were various small doodles, placed seemingly at random and not piecing together into any kind of story. At least, at the first glance. As Rika leaned down to take a closer look, you continued your tale.

"See, when I was, like, 10 or so, I broke my ankle doing stupid things that kids usually do. I was so bummed about it, that I couldn't stop crying no matter what my family or doctors did to comfort me. I think, it wasn't so much the pain itself that was making me so upset, but the notion of me not being allowed to run around for a good while. And then, this one girl saw me bawling my eyes out with my freshly made cast, and you know what she did? She told me that I had a very beautiful cast, and that she wanted to sign it for me."

You couldn't help but giggle at the memory, paying no mind to the unusual silence coming from the previously chipper Rika that was still laser focused on inspecting your tattoos. "I was so dumbfounded by her suggestion, that I instantly stopped crying. And guess what? She even drew on my cast while talking with me about this or that. I was so sad and scared that whole day, but she made me smile even despite my puffy face and sore throat. My parents were so shocked! So... I kept this cast with me until I had the idea to transfer these silly doodles from it as a tattoo! Might seem kinda sappy, but hey, it makes me happy, and that's good enough for me."

Your only response was silence, which made you tense up with worry as you glanced down at the young woman next to you, only to find her trembling like a leaf with her palm covering her mouth. You instantly shot up on your picnic blanket, scared that you might have upset her in one way another. "Rika? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Your words were nothing but a tender whisper, meant for her ears only as you carefully placed your hand onto her knee. You couldn't help but exhale shakily once you saw the tears falling from her eyes. Though, before you could speak another word, she finally found her voice, however shaky it may be.

"Y/N... That girl... It was me. I know it sounds preposterous, but- But I remember it clearly now... You had a plush puppy with you that you just kept clutching on to. You even wanted to give it to me, but I couldn't accept it because of my parents..." She raised her gaze back to your face, making it known just how sincere her words really were.

Your mind went completely blank as you tried your best to make sense of it all. "W-what-?"

You felt your breath hitch in your throat, your heart starting to beat wildly inside of your chest, your hands trembling from the overwhelming emotions threatening to overtake you any moment now. Still, once you took a second glance at Rika's quivering figure, all doubt left you seemingly in an instant. Your body moved on its own as you quickly shifted closer to her side and emraced her tightly, burying your nose into the crook of her neck.

She felt so fragile inside of your arms like that... As if one wrong move could break her. Yet, you knew better than anyone else, just how strong this amazing woman really was.

So, you just held her as she fell apart into your embrace, feeling your own tears spill onto your cheeks. Through her quiet sobs, you heard her utter her next words in a hushed half-whisper, filled with so much sorrow, and yet, laced with just as much hope. "You know... I was so miserable in that hospital. No... I was miserable wherever I went. But, on that day... I managed to make someone smile. You were so sad, but I somehow was able to bring joy into your eyes. I was so happy... And to know that something I did was so incredibly precious to you, that you kept it with you throughout all these years... It feels like I've done at least one thing right in my life. So, thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N. We were really... meant to meet at the end, isn't it?"

"Yes. We were."

[shatterthefragments]

8, 14, 22 and 25 for those music asks from hours ago haha

No worries at all for it being from hours ago!!! They’re still fun to get!! 😁

8. Is from an artist I’ve listened to for a while

FIRST THOUGHT IN HEAD IS MARIANAS TRENCH’s Skin and Bones

Like. I remember getting their first CD and playing it and just Fix Me indeed 😌 (disclaimer that I did not get it as it first came out. I don’t know for sure but I feel like I saw their music video probably for shake tramp or celebrity status or cross my heart on MTV and idk convinced mum we should get their cds (they’re canadian after all!) and so we did? I think mum liked ever after? I don’t really remember very well anymore. It’s definitely a bit of a nostalgic band for me and I adore them (even if my honest opinion is that he’d probably sound a bit better live if he stopped jumping up and down all over the stage so much. Still an amazing experience though)) i am now taking this and running with it (i am listening to Marianas trench rn)

Alternatively I mean. Nickelback has been around for longer than I’ve been alive. And by virtue of Canadian radio having to play a certain percentage of canadian artists on radio I’ve been listening to them as long as we’ve driven places. My immediate thought is Just To Get High or the entire The Long Road album but of my liked more recent songs I would choose Sister Sin.

14. I’d make everyone listen to

Ok ok so. Once upon a time [2021 I think] I was driving to [camping spot] and played Polyphia the ENTIRE DRIVE (it was only like 2-3 hours but the longest drive I’ve ever done at the time so I NEEDED the Polyphia to do this (my longest is now 4-5 hours? And I’m still amazed I am fucking amazing for being able to do this I didn’t think I’d ever be able to drive and here I fucking am?!?!)) and uh. Apparently my cousins can’t tell the difference between songs despite me actually playing through their discography instead of looping one song over and over like I usually do. So. Technically,, I already have made everyone in my vicinity listen to:

The Worst Polyphia 😘

Except. Except. It’s actually Abelha Emily Hopkins 😘 like??? On a HARP?!? If I had time and money she makes me want to learn the harp and collect a ridiculous amount of effects pedals 😍💖🥰

22. reminds me of a character

Gosh …I really want to say the entire Sleep Token discography and the characters they play on stage haha ✌️✨

I also can’t help but think of Afraid by The Neighbourhood bc it was on a Sam Winchester 8tracks and launched me into loving them after hating how overplayed Sweater Weather was (I love it now btw) (I saw them live maybe 2019 and it was great but I was much more paranoid about getting a secondhand high/weed induced psychosis off the weed there than I am now)

Also Citizen Soldier’s Scarecrow and the characters we all play in our day to day lives.

…and also the Marianas Trench Masterpiece Theatres where “this is just a part I portray” and other lyrics are just EXACTLY IT.

25. I want to hear in a grocery store

As somebody that works in a grocery store: literally anything that’s not on the fucking playlist they use haha

…actually Love Shack is on the playlist and it may stay bc it is JOYFUL and a reminder of my first and so far only pride parade where I was with all my friends in the shade on the float. So may the Abba songs. And a couple others that I’ve been surprised to hear. But generally I don’t notice the songs very much unless I hate them or the oven is off and I can actually hear.

But I’d love to hear literally any Sleep Token song. Most of them even have no swears or explicit sex references which makes it better than some of the stuff our clientele/coworkers are scandalized by!!!

Or like. Any instrumental math/jazz rock would be AMAZING. also thinking of Polyphia and Ichika Nito here, but I am NOT picky about it give me the good good sounds 🤩💖

Because I start before we open for an hour or two I just play my own music from my phone out loud from my pocket (not allowed to wear earbuds which is kinda fair since I’m fresh food) recently it’s just been looping Nazareth. But I’ve also played sleep token and bad omens albums as well. As well as looping just whichever song I’m vibing with. Notably Abelha and I’ll See You When The Night Comes.

I frequently sing parts of Jaws or Euclid to myself when I’m alone. 🥰

[twinstarlovers]

These wanna be men really triggered me to get my period early tho 💀 but bro I was thinking this is really suppose to be our last life like that’s crazy. I think that’s why we are able to feel the highest level of love. I mean anyone can feel love but not everyone can just feel twin flame love yk. Anyways I had a dream about you last night but I can’t describe or remember it enough to put into words. Also I’m so mad my videos haven’t been wanting to post. Also I’m starting a new job hopefully this upcoming week or next week. Ima be a paraprofessional for pg county schools lol. My mom pushed me into it but I’m kinda glad she did like it seems meant to be kinda. It’s also next to my gym so it will for sure motivate me more. The only thing is I’d be working 7 hours & so hopefully I’ll be okay & not get drained. I used to dread 4 hours. Like my final hour I would start to feel my energy giving out like I was gonna pass out but maybe cus that job in general can be too much. I’m excited to be working with an older age group. I kinda like the older ages sometimes. Oh ima be working at Ridgecrest elementary. The principal contacted me & wants me there so bad. I really like her, she puts a lot of effort & is always consistent with me compared to everyone else I’ve dealt w fr. But yeah ima be an ESOL paraprofessional. I guess for the kids that don’t speak English like that or need help. I basically take them in groups to help them finish work (I believe lol). Anyways I should’ve known working for a school would work better for me because I have the breaks just like the kids like winter & summer & shit which thank goodness because I could stay at a job but it’s me not getting any sort of break that be having me fed up w it enough to quit yk & then when I leave I’m just like “damn I miss it, I just needed a week break for myself”. Plus there are a lot of benefits but I ain’t worried about all that rn lol. I wonder why this is the path I’m going in tho. Yes I wanted to work with kids for my early years but I still don’t know what I wanna do later on in life. I just wanna be rich lol. I think that will happen for me tho somehow. If it’s my vision I think I will be because so many people I’ve met don’t mind not being rich yk but idk me personally, I wanna be rich. I have a vision of all the stuff I can do w money. My main thing is giving back to my loved ones. That’s one thing I dream of for some reason. I’m not really sure I’ll achieve any of this but I believe it’ll happen miraculously. Ik money don’t matter but I’m just a girl who has expensive taste be so fr. It’s genuinely not my fault. But anyways I gotta be getting up at like 5-6am fr now for this job. I’ve been sleeping late smh. I probably won’t be able to go to the gym the first week from exhaustion & me trying to adjust to working for that long fr. Slowdive is coming to concert 9 times out of 10 ima go if the tickets aren’t sold out by next month. Im so excited. I should be going w my little sister. I kinda like their new album. I need to spend more money on concerts & traveling than clothes lol. I have clothes I’ve bought months ago that I never worn still & that’s one of my bad habits but for me… I save them for a good occasion yk or for when I’m feeling good & rn I am not feeling too good. When I’m more myself & got places to go then I will wear them lol. I heard it’s bad to do that but I really dgaf. If anything I see it as a good thing, I see it as a sign of hope for the future yk that I used to have trouble with sooo. Anyways for my bd ima be on my period I believe 😐. Sooo I probably won’t do nun the day of. I had plans to do sum big like a hotel room for myself but that might not happen buttt im giving myself 1k to spend on myself so that’s exactly what I will do, go on a shopping spree & I’ll be just fine with that lmao. I already know what I want lol. I hate how nobody cares about bds no more like bro.. after not celebrating my bd all as a kid & my teenage years, it’s just getting started for me in my 20’s. Ima take it so seriously. To be continued….

[shop-korea]

TODAY - WE - CASUALLY - SAY - WESTERN - REGION

OF - BRITTANY - ORGANIC - APPLES - FR - THEIR YES

42 DEGREES - CLIMATE - APPLE - TREES - FINISTERE

CITY - OF - MY - CHATEAU - IN - BRITTANY - EXTREME

WEST - I'M - PRODUCING - ORGANIC - APPLE - TRUE

TOOTHPASTE - WHITENING - ANTI - AGING - GLUTEN

FREE - WHEN - MY - CHATEAU - WAS - BUILT - IN 1500

WASN'T - FRANCE - AT - ALL - WAS - A - KINGDOM BUT

SHORT - LIVED - THEN - INVADED - BECAME - DUCHY

DUCHESS - DUKES - FRM - ENGLAND - GREAT BRITAIN

BRITTANY - HAD - DUKES - DUCHESS - BUT - FORMER -

CAPITAL - WAS - SEIGED - WARS - GOING - ON - THUS -

DUCHESS - ANNE - HEIR - OF - BRITTANY - WOW - FOR -

FRANCE - WANTED - 2 - USE - 4 - THEIR - NAVAL SHIPS -

REMEMBER - 16TH - CENTURY - 1500s - THE SPANISH -

EMPIRE - WAS - MOST - POWERFUL - AND - FRANCE -

FULL - OF - LARGE - SMALL FARMS - WERE - JUST -

THAT - FARMERS - AND - CLERGY - DIDN'T - HAVE -

THE - TRAINING - ON - HOW - 2 B - ARMED FORCES -

EVENTUALLY - MORE - THAN - 100 YRS - FRANCE -

RULED - BY - KINGS - STARTING - AT - AGE 5 - FOR -

FRANCE - LIKE - EUROPE - LIVED - ON - FARMS -

EVEN - FEMALES - FARMING - ALSO - ROYALTY -

THRIVED - SO - 1500 - IT - WAS - A - DUCHY - FR -

A - KINGDOM - SHORT - LIVED - THEN - 34 YRS -

LATER - 1ST - KING - OF - FRANCE - 2 YRS - YES -

B 4 - DUCHESS - ANNE - OWNER - OF BRITTANY -

MARRIED - 2 - KINGS - HER - DAUGHTER - ALSO -

MARRIED - BRITTANY - BECAME - FRANCE TOO -

THEN - BECAME - A - REGION - SO - FRANCE -

WANTED - 2 - USE - BRITTANY - 4 - THEIR FR -

NAVAL - SHIPS - PARKING - WELL - I'M - YES -

BRINGING - MY - TOKYO - MALE SCIENTISTS -

OUR - SPECIAL - MARINES - AIR FORCE NAVY -

WE'LL - B - DOCKING - OUR - SUBMARINES 2 -

THERE - BUT - LIKE - TRANSFORMERS - AS -

WE - GO - BACK - 2 - FISHERMEN - THEIR FR -

SHIPS - BECOME - SUBMARINES - 4 - WE -

HAVE - INVADING - FORCES - AND - REG -

REGULAR - SOLDIERS - PROTECTING PR -

OUR - PEOPLE - BOTH - TOTALLY - COOL -

ON - MY - WAY - 2 - LIBRARY - 4 - THEIR -

ELEVATOR - NOT - WORKING - WITH FL -

FREE - TRANSPORTATION - ELEVATORS -

NOT - WORKING - SO - BOOTHS WITH FL -

CANOPY - TOPS - BOBBA - $9 - $10 - SO -

VERY - EXPENSIVE - CAN - MAKE - FRM -

YOUTUBE - TAPIOCA - STARCH - MORE -

OTHER - DRINKS - AND - LIKE - CUPS 2 -

YOGURT - AND - MORE - WELL - THERE -

I - SAW - MIAMI-DADE - COUNTY - THE -

WHOLE - AREA - NOT - ALLOWED -

CAMPING - GOT - RID - OF - THEIR -

HOMELESS - AND - THEIR - RELIGIOUS -

SHELTER - VIDEO - VOYARISM AS BLKS -

HISPANIC - RELIGIOUS - FEMALES SEE -

BREASTS - LIVE - PANTIES - AS - THEY -

SLEEP - ILLEGAL - CAMERA BECAUSE -

SHOWS - PRIVATE - PARTS - SIGNS -

DON'T - FEED - ANIMALS

COUNTY - FINES -

'CRUELTY - 2 - ANIMALS' -

NEVER - FINED - THEY - DO SEARCH -

'UNREASONABLE - SEARCHES' - EA -

DAY - SO - IT'S - NICE - 2 - KNOW

MIAMI - HIT AND RUN - RECKLESS

DRIVING - SO - SIGN - SAYS -

'NO - CAMPING - SITE'

ARRESTS - 4 - TENTS - MORE

THEY'RE - STATE - GOVERNMENT

IN - CHARGE - OF - STATE PARKS

LIMITS - 14 DAYS - THEY - HAVE - BEAUTIFUL -

LOCATIONS - NO - ELECTRICITY - AND MORE -

SO - TENTS - CAMPING - GEAR - ALL - THAT -

THEN - THEY - PUT - IN - 1 BEDROOM - APTS -

THUS - STORAGE - UNIT - BUILDINGS

ILLEGAL - RULES -

NO - TRESPASSING - AFTER - HOURS

THEY - DICTATE - HOURS

NO - SLEEPING

NO - EATING

NO - CHANGING - CLOTHES

DURING - HURRICANE - ARRESTS MADE

IF - YOU'RE - STILL - HERE - EVICTION 2

THUS -

DISNEY - PIXAR

'TURNING - RED' - LEGAL - PERMISSION

RED - PANDA - CAMPING - SITES

24/7 - HOLIDAYS - FREE - ENTRY

RV - PARKING - FREE - RV - SITE

WE - PROVIDE - CHEROKEE - TENTS

GLITTERS - OUTSIDE - INSIDE - IS US

MAGICAL - BAMBOO - BEDS - FIT - 4

CHEROKEE - INDIANS - AND GUESTS

JAPANESE - GARDENS - KOI - FISHES

CAMPING - TENTS - ALREADY - CREATED

INSIDE - ELEVATED - CAMPING - MATS 2

FLORIDA - HAS - VIOLATED - 14TH - YES

THEY - CREATED - AND - MADE - LAW

THAT - ARREST - 4 - CAMPING - EQUIPMENT

STATE - GOV'T - GIVEN - RESTRAINING ORD

2 - INTERNET - AND - INVENTIONS - WATCH

MICROWAVES - EVERYTHING - FOREIGN

OVENS - MADE - IN - CHINA - VIETNAM

BOUNTY - HUNTERS - WILL - B - HIRED

EXAMPLE - 7-ELEVEN - GETTING YES

RESTRAINING - ORDERS - 4 - NO BAGS

BACKPACKS - ALLOWED - INSIDE 24/7

FOOD - DRINKS - PLACE - AMERICANS

DESTROYED - BACKPACKS - WORD -

SPAM - THAT's - FOOD - COMPANY -

BAKER - ACT - DESTROYED - MR BAKER

HIS - CHOCOLATES - FLORIA - CREATED

BAKER - ACT

RESTRAINING - ORDERS

STATE - GOV'T - LOCAL - GOV'T - WILL

NOT - B - ALLOWED - HDG - BANKS &

HDG - GROCERIES - THEY - WILL - BE

ALWAYS - GOING - SOMEWHERE ELSE

14TH - NO - STATE - SHALL - MAKE OR

CREATE - ANY - LAW - DEPRIVING -

DENYING - CITIZENS - PRIVILEGES -

OR - IMMUNITY -

TENT - BACKPACK - CAMPING - STUFF

PROPERTY

NO - STATE - CAN - DEPRIVE - OF - YES

ALREADY - BOUGHT - THINGS - CALLED

PROPERTY

FLORIDA - ALWAYS - DOING - SO

THUS - EMPLOYEES - WILL - B - DENIED

RED PANDA - CAMPING - SITES

HAS - WATERPARKS - INSIDE 2

SMALL - RV's - ATTACHED - DIFFERENT

DEFINITION - OF - ROUGHING - IT - AS U

KNOW - STATE - PARKS - HAVE - PRIDE -

OF - BEAUTY - OF - THEIR - PARKS - BUT -

USA - IS - NOT - THAT - BEAUTIFUL - SO -

RED - PANDA - CAMPING - SITES

USING - SAMSUNG - WALL - AS U

SEE - VIEWS - OF - THE - MOST - BEAUTIFUL

PARKS - IN - THE - UNITED STATES - AND NOT

THAT - GREAT - THUS - SAMSUNG - WALL

RED - PANDA - CAMPING - SITE

FAKE - WATERFALLS - 24/7 - 2 - SWIM - IN - IT

SMALL - RV's - PARKED - GET - 2 - LIVE - IN - 1

REAL - NICE - OUTSIDE - EACH - SMOKELESS

GRILL - READY - LIGHT - CHARCOAL - WE YES

PROVIDE - RAW - MEAT - RAW - STEAKS ALSO

PROVIDE - LIKE - TEPANYAKI - STEAKHOUSE

THEY - COOK - 4 U - NOT - EXPENSIVE - SO -

FAMILIES - PRICE -

$0.25 - PER - DAY

GO - AHEAD - PAY - 1 MONTH - IN - ADVANCE

MACHINES - OUTSIDE - INSIDE - PAY - COINS

CASH - ALL - FORMS - OF - PAYMENTS

ALL - TENTS - OUTSIDE - INSIDE 2 PAY

$0.25 - PER - DAY

1 MONTH - PAY - IN - ADVANCE

RENT - AN - RV - WE - PROVIDE - THE -

DRIVERS - 2 - BRING - U 2 - MANY YES -

PLACES - $0.25 - PER - DAY - PAY - IN -

ADVANCE - LOTS - OF - VENDING -

MACHINES - WITH - RAW - FOOD -

SALADS - MORE - WARM - FOOD -

ALSO - WE'RE - PROVIDING ALSO -

BUFFETS - ALL - U - CAN - EAT - 2 -

TAHITIAN - DANCERS - 2 - ENTERTAIN

SALAD - BAR - ALL - FOOD - IS - FREE

ALL - STATE - PARKS

14 DAYS - LIMIT

NO - ELECTRICITY

NO - LAUNDRY - FACILITIES - ALSO

WE'RE - OFFERING - LAUNDRY

WASHER - DRYER - $0.25 EACH

SHOWERS - 24/7 - HOLIDAYS

$0.25 - PER - 30 MIN - SHAMPOO -

CONDITIONER - BODY - WASH - 2 -

NEW - DOVE - $6.99 - SALE - PRICE -

PUBLIX - ANTI - STRESS

BLUE CHAMOMILE & OAT - MILK

SMELLS - INCREDIBLE - 24 HRS

RENEWING - MICRO - MOISTURE

20 FL OZ - PUTTING - IN - SMALL

CONTAINER - 4 - NEXT - BEACH

SWIMMING - $5.65 - 1 DAY PASS

OFFERING - AIRLINES - FREE -

USA - WORLD - SO - WE - CAN -

TRAVEL - THE - WORLD - THIS - USA -

DOESN'T - OBEY - AMENDMENTS - & -

YOUR - PRESIDENT - SWORE - 2 - YES -

PRESERVE - PROTECT - OBEY - THE -

CONSTITUTION - NO - ROYAL - TITLE -

BUT - NO - AMENDMENTS - WERE -

BROUGHT - UP - SO - EVERY TIME -

U C - NEW - SIGN - LOCAL - AND -

STATE - GOV'G - POSTED - NEW -

LAWS - 2 - OBEY - THEY - VOTED -

BUT - YOUR - TAXES - PAY - 4 YES -

THEM - LESS - SPENDING - SO 2 -

DECREASE - THEIR - SALARIES -

MORE - AND - MORE - OTHER -

COUNTRIES - 2 - SPEND - OUR -

MONEY - I'M - GOING - OUTSIDE -

2 - FINISH - MY - SANDWICH AS -

I - GO - 2 - RESTROOM - THEN -

ROSS - 2 - BUY 3 - MORE $0.99 -

BAGS - THEN - GOING - 2 - YES -

PUBLIX - 4 - WATER - WHEN - I -

DRANK - FAUCET - WATER - OF -

MAIN - LIBRARY - WENT - 2 - THE -

RESTROOM - 3 TIMES - I'VE YES -

NEVER - DONE - THAT - BUT - IT -

IS - GRIED - 2 - READ - SIGNS OF -

USA - MORE - ROBBERIES - AND -

MURDERS - THE - FUTURE - OF -

THE - USA - STATE - GOVERNMENT -

EMPLOYEES - WILL - B - KILLED FL -

MORE - AND - MORE - AS - WE YES -

TRAVEL - THIS - WORLD - FAR - FR -

HERE - WELL - 2:39P EDT - THINGS -

I - NEED - 2 - DO - WANT - 2 - DO -

HAVE - FUN - USA - ENDURING & -

GLAD - HOMELESS - CHEAPER 4 -

ME - LET's - SEE - IF - I'M - TRUE -

IMPROVED - MAILING - BOX FOR -

NO - LONGER - GETTING -

STORAGE - UNIT - 4 BLKS -

HISPANICS - AND - PHONE -

WHITES - LIKE - CALIFORNIA -

NEW YORK I'M NOT WORRIED

[chelleztjs18]

Lost in Assistance - Ch. 6

GIF: I do not own this GIF.

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

All chapters

You are forced to wake up in a sudden by your alarm blaring. You squint your eyes, try to find your glasses or your phone to turn off that annoyance of the sounds of your alarm. You finally turned it off and put on your glasses then checked out the time. You forgot that you have to wake up earlier than you planned before Lizzie’s text yesterday. Once you see the time is 5 AM, you regretted that you stayed up late last night.

You groaned as you got out of the bed. Last night you decided to wake up at 5 AM just so you can give yourself enough time to get ready, let alone you have to try to beat the traffic to go to the office even though it’s Friday you just don’t want to take that risk, not today. Last but not least, you have to get the coffee that Lizzie specifically requested.

You try to get ready faster than usual. You picked semi casual attire for today with a low ponytail and flat shoes. You grabbed your purse, your laptop and every other thing you need for work today. You walk out then go to your mom’s room to check if your mom is awake.

“Ma, are you awake yet? I’m gonna go to work okay? I’ll see you when I get home. Love you.” You half whispered hoping your mom can hear you but not loud enough to wake her up just in case she is still sleeping.

“Okay, good luck on your first day my dear.” Your mom replies in a sleepy tone.

You left for work but had to drop by at Starbucks near the office to get Lizzie’s large black coffee with half and half and two pumps of hazelnut syrup so it will still be hot when she gets it. That’s how she likes it and it’s one of a few list of coffee beverages she likes besides her precious seasonal pumpkin spice latte.

You finally arrived at the office at 6 AM sharp. The main building is already open due to some offices having early operation hours. You confidently go up to the office thinking it is already open as well or at least opened for Lizzie who is meeting you there but to your surprise the door is still locked and all the lights are still off. Puzzled with what’s going on, you pull out your phone and try to contact Lizzie to figure out where she is.

You try to call her but no answer. You wait for a few minutes in front of the office, then you try to call her again, which leads to the same result, no answer. Hoping that you will get an answer if you try to reach her in a different way, you decided to text her.

"Good morning Ms. Olsen, I'm here at the office. Are you on your way here by any chance? Thanks." You texted anxiously yet irritated. Fifteen minutes went by and still no words whatsoever from her. You decided to go back to your car and wait there.

You hate waiting yet that’s the only thing you can do now. Luckily, you parked at one of the Vernon’s office reserved spots so it will be easy for you to spot Lizzie when she comes. You sighed with annoyance every time you checked your phone and found nothing from Lizzie. You watch the parking spots around you like a hawk to spot Lizzie but shortly you are betrayed by your body, your eyes slowly close and you fall asleep. All of a sudden you hear your phone ring, it’s Lizzie. You jolted to check the time to find it’s 8:05. “Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!’ You cursed in your mind and answered the call.

”Hello. Ms. Olsen. I’m coming right up.” You explain right away while you gather your stuff to get going.  “Where are you?! You are late. I have been waiting here for 5 minutes.” Lizzie asked, pretending she was upset about waiting. Making you come two hours early and letting you wait was her plan. Little did you know, Lizzie actually saw you sleeping in the car when she parked. Of course she won’t let this situation go to waste so she decided to just go up to the office to make it look like you are late. 

You finally showed up with one hand holding your purse and your laptop, the other handing Lizzie her coffee. “Good morning. I’m so sorry. Here’s your coffee. I got here at-..” before you could finish your explanation she cuts you off. “Um, my coffee is not hot, Y/n. Why is it cold? I like hot coffee in the morning. You need to get me a new one on the way there. We gotta go now or we are gonna be late. Thanks to you.” She gave the coffee back to you and walked away.

Your jaw dropped. You are so flabbergasted and irritated at the same time with what just happened as you saw her walk away with no remorse whatsoever. 

“Aren’t you coming?” What Lizzie said snap you back to reality and you proceed to follow her to leave.

Lizzie decided to sit at the front passenger side with you driving. You drive in silence, still upset that you have to go to Starbucks to get her another hot coffee. You ordered hers and your usual coffee. You got both of your orders, you put yours in the cup holder and you hand her hers. “Ice coffee huh in the morning? Grande Espresso frappuccino, light ice double blended with extra shot in a venti cup. Just because you like cold coffee in the morning, it doesn’t mean other people like it too, you know?” She commented sarcastically.  “Ms. Olsen, I got there at 6 just like you wanted me to, I tried to call and text you but no answer. That’s why your coffee got cold. It has been sitting for two hours.” You broke your silence but are still trying to keep it cool.

“Oh yeah, I slept in, didn’t hear my alarm.” Lizzie answered nonchalantly.

“Are you kidd--” You said in your mind then you took a deep breath. Hearing how she answered you, it made you connect the dots and you know what she’s up to. You know it’s normal if she really slept in but this happened on the first day you work for her, coincidence much. 

“I see.” You said it sarcastically and nodded slightly. “What? What do you see?” You got her attention. “Oh nothing. You did it on purpose didn’t you? You are trying to give me a hard time working.” You calmly confront her. “I told you I slept in. It’s up to you how you gonna take my answer.” Another nonchalant answer came out from her. You chuckle sarcastically then pull over and turn your head to look at her. She looks back at you confused.

“Look, Ms. Olsen. I don’t sugar coat things so please hear me out, I know you don’t like me because I got hired as the assistant you thought you don’t need and I don’t fancy you either. What you did this morning is completely childish and to me, you really give yourself a bad name such as a brat. I’m just here doing my job. As professional as you are and as stubborn as you are, no matter what game you are playing now, I won’t quit because I’m not a quitter. So why don’t you just let me do my job until the contract ends?” You raise one of your eyebrows and give her an intimidating smile then you start to drive again to the location.

Despite the fact that Lizzie actually got caught off guard with what you just did and with everything you said, she refused to give in. In fact it just provoked her more and started to ramble angrily “I told you I slept in! Just so you know, I have my own reason why I don't need a new assistant! You know nothing about me! So don't you dare call me a brat! Don't get too cocky. I’m not a quitter either. I’ll win.” She replied and just like that, they soon got into an argument and everything turned into one competition between you two girls who have the same level of unyielding obduracy. Nonetheless, both of you are consumed by your own ego and anger. 

You scoffed. "Oh come on! We both know you did it on purpose! I'm not stupid! 2 plus 2 is 4! Why don't you want a new assistant anyway? It's not that bad!" You raised your tone a little.

"Why the hell do I have to tell you my reason?! It's a personal thing! You work for me, don't you remember that?! Being childish is way better than being cocky like you. Just because you are the best assistant that Mitchel has, doesn't mean you're better than anybody else! So if you are as professional as you said you are, why don't you just zip it and drive?!"

The driving is now filled with tension and awkward silence. You decide to turn on the music just to calm you down. Clair De Lune by Motez Remix plays. The tune is actually catchy enough to Lizzie’s ears, she never heard this song before so she secretly checked the title on y/n’s car screen. “I don’t like this, I want to listen to something else.” She lied just to push y/n’s button yet again. “My car, my choice of music.” Lizzie rolled her eyes to what you said.

Luckily the traffic wasn’t that bad, you both arrived at the location on time. Lizzie gets out of the car and slams the door as she is still upset with you.

The photoshoot session starts. Both of you only talk when it’s needed. Not a single eye contact happens between the two of you. After a few hours, it’s time for lunch. Lunch is already catered, you prepared a plate for her, place it on the table. You sit with the photographer and crews on another table near hers.

She sits and about to eat but was stopped by something she noticed on her plate. Something that she hates, onions.

“Umm, Y/n, I can’t eat this.” She pushed the plate away. “ And why is that?” curious why she said that, you go to take a look at her plate and notice what’s the problem. “Sorry, I didn’t notice there’s onions there.” You added.

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t mind eating it if there’s no onion in it. Since you are my assistant, I will let you do your job just like what you asked me to do earlier.” She said it sarcastically but in a low tone and gave you a smirk, knowing she just served you back your own words from the argument earlier.

You realized what she wants you to do, it won’t look good if the photographer and the crew see you argue with you since they didn’t hear what ridiculous “assistance” Lizzie just asked you to do for her so you just do what she asked you to half heartedly.

The rest of the session continues then you both go back to the office when it’s all done. The whole ride was awkward and silent from both of you with soft music playing in the background. Tension is in the air but that doesn’t stop both of you secretly exchanging glances to each other without you both knowing.

You both arrived at the office’s parking structure  just to separate to go home and move on with your day.

Ch. 7

[duchessfics]

Business and Pleasure Part 6

(https://lauramaher25.tumblr.com/post/179156351521/ahs-billie-dean-howard-apocalypse)

Billie x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): None? Except toxic work environment?

Summary: While Billie thought that this would be a shared vacation, she soon realizes their first day in New York, that this trip is in fact a very different experience for you compared to her. And in the process of seeing you being mistreated, she also has to deal with her own feelings towards you and if this is meant to be more than friends with benefits.

Word Count: 6031

A/n: So...this is late because my first draft was deleted for some reason...I don’t wanna talk about it 😭 but I feel like I should preface this by saying that this chapter is SFW because it’s focusing on some of the emotional/feeling things that Billie and the reader have not really dealt with as much. Of course there will be more NSFW content in the future, but I hope you enjoy this change of pace.

Part 5, Business and Pleasure Masterlist

When the chirp of your alarm rings out in the dark room you nearly cry in exhaustion. Yes—you are an adult and shouldn't find yourself on the verge of tears due to only sleeping for around 4 hours. But the inclination is still there.

You try to reach out and grab your phone from the nightstand. However that's when you remember your devilish plan to charge your phone across the room so you have to get up. 

Damn your ingenuity.

The loud sound pounds through your head and fortunately the woman sleeping next to you is separate enough for you to slip out from under the covers, stagger over to your blaring phone, and turn the alarm off. Now that the room is still once more you pause and find your senses slowly perking up at the unfamiliar space.

Your toes curl into the soft cushiony carpet that is a little firmer than Billie's but still pliable and cozy. At the same time you see a crack of daylight by the curtained windows and hear the muffled sounds of morning traffic in Manhattan. Because you didn't get a good look last night you softly pad over to one of the windows that nearly expands the floor to the ceiling and part the blackout curtains just a crack to keep the room dark while peeking outside.

Amber hues with streaks of marigold and coral blend together and reflect off of the surrounding steel structures that line the streets and reach for the sky. Although the time is still early, the sun is rapidly rising and you look down to see vehicles and people the size of toys rushing around to where they are required for the day.

A soft breath from behind you gets your attention and you step back to shut the curtain once more. It takes a moment for your eyes to fully adjust to the darkened room, but your ears hear each soft breath she exhales. Like listening to a distress signal pulsating from afar.

Luckily the floor isn't cluttered with items, so you cautiously brush your hands out in front of yourself and follow her small, sleeping breaths until the tips of your fingers skim the satin duvet of your shared bed. By now your eyes are able to see the beautiful woman in front of you who still sleeps peacefully.

Because she lays on her side, Billie's face is turned towards you and you can see the slight crease between her brows and her eyes moving just the slightest bit under underneath her eyelids as she dreams. With her eyes closed, the length of her lashes is accentuated. Every part of her looks perfect. Like she’s a gift bestowed by the gods above. 

And for some reason she notices you of all people.

The sharp intake of air between her slightly parted lips startles you and she shifts while mumbling something. The noise made you jump, but you go from shock to concern when she lets out the softest whimper and her brows scrunch up. Before you can even think, you take a seat on the side of the bed and softly shush her quiet noises of anxiety and protest. 

Then your hand comes up to cup her cheek that doesn't rest on the pillow and you run your thumb up the bridge of her nose to rest in the space between her brows. The area is still crinkled in worry so you gently but firmly run the pad of your finger from the beginning of her brow to the end to smooth out the space while soothing in a voice more prominent that a whisper, but softer than regularly spoken word, “It’s ok Billie. Shh, it’s ok. I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

You keep up the slow movement and soft affirmation, and within a minute or two she settles back into her relaxed state and breathes deeply.

In an effort to not jar her by pulling away and exposing her to the cool air you run your fingers along the edge of her face to tuck back some of her hair near her mouth. However that is the moment you see on the nightstand alarm clock that a half hour has passed since your alarm went off. 

Shit. 

So you reluctantly withdraw from Billie retuck the covers around her and rush into the bathroom for a speedy get ready…

By 8:00 you're all dressed and ready to go. When you re-enter the main suite Billie still sleeps. So you quietly call room service and order a breakfast sampler for her and something for yourself. But the main thing you need at the moment is coffee. Luckily there's a Starbucks just around the block so you make an order on the app. Since room service said it would take 20 to 30 minutes for the food to be delivered, you run downstairs to grab the drinks while Billie continues to sleep.

Compared to last night, the streets and sidewalks bustle with activity and provide all different sorts of sights and sounds to take note of. But time is of the essence and honestly, the atmosphere will be marginally better with Billie out here with you. So you speed off to the Starbucks, wait in line, and grab Billie’s usual with your own basic iced coffee that has two extra shots of espresso. Then you do your glorified run back up to her room and arrive just as room service does.

After warning them Billie is still asleep, you open the door and let them swiftly and quietly set the plates on the small dining table in the living area of her suite. Then you help them remove the tops of the dishes and thank the staff before they leave. The delicious concoction of breakfast smells fills the room and your stomach rumbles in response. You didn't realize how hungry you are until now and your mouth waters as the decadent items of food layout before you.

“Is that breakfast I smell darling?” Billie asks from the other room. 

Her low, sleepy voice warms your insides and you reply, “Yes. I've got your coffee too.” You hear her let out a soft hum of approval and a couple minutes later the blonde enters the doorway wearing one of the hotel’s luxurious, white robes over her light coral baby doll nightgown and her hair loosely tumbles over her shoulders as she saunters over. However, before she actually sits, she comes over to where you stand and presses a soft kiss to you lips. Then she parts enough for her chocolate orbs to meet yours and murmurs, “Good morning sweetheart.”

Her intentional intimacy isn't lost on you and the feeling of her soft, petal-like lips on yours does more to wake you up than five shots of espresso could. And the way you breathe, “Good morning Billie.” tells her everything she needs to know. 

Your employer backs away to take a seat and you watch her fingers delicately curve over the top of her to-go iced latte and pick up the item to take a sip before setting it closer to her dining spot. The way she shifts to grip her fork and knife maintains your attention and as her fingers flex and curl you can't help but wonder if she uses those same movements when her digits are buried deep inside you and stroking that sensitive spongy spot in your depths. 

Jesus Christ. It's barely past eight in the morning! Get ahold of yourself.

That's when you realize Billie has slowed her movements to a stop. So you slowly lift your gaze from her hands to her face and see she looks up to you with a raised brow 

“Is something wrong?” she asks and her lips twitch in amusement. Rather than stuttering out some incoherent response like you normally do, you automatically answer, “Nope.” And sit across from her. Of course that's the moment you remember you need your binder to say the day’s itinerary. 

You’re about as smooth as sandpaper—as usual.

Rather than even trying to act suave or nonchalant you clear your throat and feel your face warming as you mutter, “I'll be right back.” Then you shoot up and rush from the entertainment room to the bedroom, snatch your binder, and run back to sit down . The medium chuckles at your behavior and looks to you with the devious grin as she inquires, “Awe do you miss being in my presence that much, dear?” Of course she would assume that.

Because you’re alone, you let yourself laugh and tease back, “Do you have a humble bone in your body?” Billie grins at the fact that you feel safe enough to tease back and playfully muses, “I do but I can't say where. I will permit a full body search by you though.” Her words make you roll your eyes and groan, “Ha ha, very funny.” But both of you know you're far from annoyed.

You both go quiet but it's not an uncomfortable silence. Instead you pause to enjoy this uncommonly ordinary moment with someone you care about. 

However, the buzzing of your phone interrupts the stillness and you break eye contact to see it's an email. At the same time you see it's twenty minutes past 8:00 and know you need to keep things moving to stay on time. So you look back to your boss and suggest, “How about I tell you today’s schedule while you finish your breakfast?” She agrees and starts to eat the warm breakfast. Meanwhile you open up your binder, flipping through numerous pages as you take a generous sip of your bitterly strong iced coffee.

By the time you set your drink back down on the table you’re on today's date and tell Billie, “Today is a less intense day. We need to be out of here by 9:30 for your photo shoot with Vogue. And that is expected to last from 10:30 to 4:00 between makeup, hair, outfit changes, set changes, lunch, and anything else. Then we'll need to be back here for your virtual PR prep meeting. It's not until 6:00 PM so I can get you dinner by calling in room service or ordering something to go. After the meeting you’re done.” 

You look up from her itinerary to see her neatly slicing the last sections of the two mini pancakes on her plate. However her movements pause when you stop speaking and she looks to you before purring with sparkling eyes, “So, we have the whole evening to ourselves?” 

Of course that's the one thing that stands out to her.

You let out a sigh and reply with a lightly admonishing tone while trying to keep from smiling, “Yes we'll have the whole evening. But first we need to get you ready and at your photo shoot.” Then you pick up your phone and open it while asking, “Do you have any special requests for them? Certain music, temperature, smells, lighting—anything at all?” 

The medium chuckles and smoothly replies, “Just my lovely assistant by my side.” Her shameless flirting prompts you to look up at her face and playfully warn, “Billie…”

However she giggles and assures, “Kidding. I can't think of anything. But thank you sweetheart.” You respond you’re welcome, set your phone to the side, and start to dig into your own breakfast. In between her final bites she asks, “What time did you get up?” Even the memory of your alarm going off so early causes you to cringe and take another generous sip of your coffee before answering, “6:30.” Billie must see the discomfort though because she nibbles her lower lip before asking, “Well, did you at least sleep well?”

Her look of concern warms your heart and you assure her with a smile, “I slept great. The bed and everything about it felt amazing.” Her eyebrow arches and lips quirk as she inquires, “And the company you kept? Was it satisfactory?” 

Just when you think you've seen Billie's peak confidence; she surpasses that level by 100! 

You clear your throat and straighten up a little before attempting to casually counter back, “I’ve had worse bed partners.”

While the comment was primarily a joke you don't miss the flicker in her darkened eyes or the way her grip on her fork tightens at the thought of someone else holding you as if she wants to snatch you close. 

However one second she shows that and the next she's back to smirking and purrs, “Well I guess I'll have to up my game then. I don't mind some competition. It only helps to show why I'm the best.”

Her words prompt your mouth to gape and you gasp, “Billie!” She grins at your shock and scoots back to stand up while innocently saying “I guess they should start getting ready then.” Meanwhile you continue to just gawk at her. 

When you don’t answer, she smiles even wider and turns to walk back into the bedroom. And as she starts to strut away your boss casually flings her hair over her shoulder while saying, “I'll be ready by 9:25. Don't miss me too much, sweetie.” And with one backward glance and a wink she's gone from your sight…

By 10:00 you have Billie set up with hair and makeup and she speaks to the head photographer about their concepts and ideas for her photoshoot. So you head off to find out about lunch for Billie. The studio space Vogue uses is larger than BuzzFeed and it takes you a moment to orientate yourself, but when you see three long tables with food warmers you are sure this is where you need to be. So you walk over to where two women who seem to be in charge stand.

Even though they face you and you are sure they see you walk up, both women still look down at the tablet one of them holds and taps on. 

Maybe they’re finishing something up. 

So you pause for a moment and watch them already sensing an air of entitlement with them. After a couple moments of watching them giggle and murmur to each other it's clear they're not on a work project. So you're clear your throat, trying to muster up your confidence, and squeak “Excuse me. I just have a small question.”

The one with beach blonde hair that looks down at the tablet but doesn't hold it lets out a dramatic sigh, looking to you, and the other with dark brown hair continues to scroll on the iPad she holds as she says, “Name.” On the inside you groan knowing it's been a while since you've had difficult clients. But you put on a smile and try to sweetly reply, “Well I don't know if it will be on there because—"

“We didn't ask for your life story. We asked for your name.” The brunette says earning a snicker from the blonde. Heat rises in your cheeks and you have to actively fight to not roll your eyes. While part of you wants to find a corner to hide in until Billie is done, you know showing weakness will make you even more of a doormat for these people to stomp over. 

So you stand taller and confidently say your first and last name. That shuts them up for a moment but after a couple of taps, both women look to you with smirks and the blonde says, “Your name isn't on here, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

The use of Billie’s name for you makes your fists clench by your sides and you return a fake smirk back before coldly replying, “it's ok. I guess I'll just tell my boss, Billie Dean Howard I couldn't get her lunch information and she'll have to come here herself since her assistant’s name somehow didn't make the list.” And you begin to walk away, relishing in how their eyes widened at those words.

After going less than five steps one of them calls out, “Wait!” and you pause before slowly turning back around. While both women still look annoyed the brunette says, “There will be a selection of soups, salads, and sandwiches for lunch that she can choose from starting at noon.” You let a sickening sweet smile curve on your lips, and you channel your own confident demeanor when you purr, “Perfect. I'll let her know.” 

As you walk away you hear one of them mutter, “Bitch.” But that only makes you smile a little more because even though they called you a name, you got what you wanted. And you can tell already today is a day to celebrate the small victories…

While you aren't allowed to be close to Billie today and get scolded when deemed so you still feel grateful to even see glimpses of her in different outfits, hairstyles, and makeup looks. The way she smiles, how she poses, and her eyes lighting up shows her true enjoyment of being photographed.

Shortly past noon you go back to the lunch table and let out a sigh of relief when the two women you spoke with earlier aren't present. However, that doesn't stop people from cutting you off in line or shoving past you like you're invisible. At first you try to assume it's innocent errors. But by the time you finish gathering her lunch you are fully annoyed at this toxic atmosphere. You're tired and just want to hideaway in the hotel. 

However, as you walk up to your boss and see her laughing and speaking with the photographer you know this is a moment to shove your feelings down. If she sees you upset, she'll know something is wrong and this is the time for her to enjoy the moment.

So you take a deep breath roll shoulders back and put on a small smile to deliver her lunch. However the blonde from earlier steps in front of you and sneers, “You can't be back here.” The unexpected run-in makes your eyebrows flatten in annoyance and you retort, “I'm giving Billie her lunch.” She looks you over for a moment before holding out her arms and groaning, “Well, just hand it to me and I'll take it to her.” 

Are you fucking kidding?! That’s so dumb! How are you not allowed to—ok, deep breaths. It’s just lunch. It’s not the end of the world. 

On one hand you want to resist and insist on taking it to her yourself. But you also don't want to cause a scene and feel too tired to fire back a response. So you hand off the items with a lowered get gaze in clenched jaw. And as you walk away and feel your shoulders slumping you remind yourself it's less than four hours left here. You can make it through the time…

By 3:30 you are on your fourth cup of coffee and Billie is getting her hair brushed out and makeup removed. After checking to make sure the coast is clear and she doesn’t speak to anyone, you rush up to her. And when you smell her sweet jasmine and vanilla scent your eyes gloss up at missing her. It's like you didn't realize how much you missed her until now that you're close and can meet her warm brown eyes and you find your voice wavering as you ask, “What would you like me to order for dinner tonight?”

Right away the mediums brows furrow at your thick voice and she asks, “Are you ok, honey?” Her concern only makes you feel more emotional, but you clear your throat and nod with the reserved smile. 

Of course that's about the time you see the two women who have been on you all day headed your way. 

Fuck. 

So you look back to Billie and practically plead in the hopes of not getting scolded again, “Or is there a certain type of food you would like?” Her eyes narrow for a split second at your behavior, however she knows you are a private person. So she tries to casually reply, “I'm…fine just ordering room service when we get back.”

In the process of her answering, your eyes briefly dart over to the women as much as you try not to. And when Billie finishes speaking you make a curt nod and quickly squeak, “Ok. And just as a reminder you have a zoom meeting with your PR manager at 6:00 tonight.” Before the blonde can even utter a thank you, you look down to your rough-looking shoes and say, “That's all . I-I'll let you finish up now.” Then you step away and try to stand tall but feel like the dirt on the bottom of someone shoe.

Billie tilts her head in confusion at your unfamiliar behavior but gets pulled back to reality when one of the head staff members rushes up while saying, “I'm terribly sorry for the interruption Miss Howard. I've been trying to explain to your assistant that she doesn't need to keep bothering you. She must be new or something.” 

That's when things start to click into place and Billie realizes how absent you've been from her today. She tries to shrug it off by saying with her usual smile, “I don't really mind she's always so...”

However her words trail off when she sees one of the staff members reprimanding you with her arms crossed across her chest and speaking loud enough for Billie to hear, 

“Who do you think you are walking around anywhere you would like? You're an assistant. So just find some little corner to do your work in and stay out of our way.” You clench your fists by your sides and open your mouth to say something back, but after reminding yourself that to some this is how assistants are and not wanting to expose your personal relationship with Billie you let out a sigh of defeat and answer with a clenched jaw and bowed head, “Fine.”

Meanwhile your boss is both horrified and furious at what just played out in front of her. Has this been going on all day? How could she let this happen?! 

Her inner rage is interrupted by the hair stylist saying, “Oh shit, did I just yank your hair too hard Miss Howard? I was trying to be gentle, but I noticed your grip on the chair arms tightened.” It’s only then she realizes her own jaw is clenched and her nails do dig into the leather of the arms. 

So she makes herself relax a little and assures them, “No you're fine, honey. I just had my mind on...other things.” However she does turn to the woman who just apologized about you and says with an icy tone, “There’s no need to apologize. I told my assistant to keep me updated on my day. Is that a problem?” 

The brunette that has held the tablet in her hands all day now has wide eyes and shakes her head while sputtering, “Well—I—no—”

“Good.” Billie cuts her off and continues in a stern tone, “If you have any problems with her, you come to me. Am I clear?” She stutters out a quick yes and another apology before running off. 

After that heated exchange, the medium flicks her fingers in her desire to have a cigarette, but she forces herself to relax as the crew finishes unpinning her hair and removing her makeup. She'll ask you about it on the way home...

You feel Billie's eyes on you as you look out the car window and fiddle with your thumbs. But you don't look to her. It's been a long day and you feel completely and utterly drained. In fact you're sure that if you closed your eyes for longer than 10 seconds you would fall asleep. 

However you do perk up a little when your employer puts up her car window. She must have thrown out her cigarette. Then she says in her warm, honey voice, “I saw you being mistreated earlier... at the photo shoot.” 

Her voice isn't the usual suave, confident tone and you look down to your lap so you can sneak a glance in her direction out of the corner of your eye.

Billie is turned to face you but stays quiet to allow space for you to speak. You keep your eyes down on your hands in your lap and respond, “It's nothing to be concerned about. Sometimes workdays are just like that. I'm more tired than anything else.” 

If it were anyone else, they would likely just say ‘ok’ and move on. But this is Billie and she knows you better than that. She lowly says your name and you finally make yourself turn your face to make direct eye contact.

There's no smug tilt of her lips or raised brow. Rather the medium’s lips curve downward, and her eyes have a warm, molasses color that you can nearly taste the sweetness of. You have rarely seen her look so distraught and once you make eye contact, she says, “I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier.”

Immediately you're filled with guilt and you shake your head. Before you’re fully conscious of it, you take her hand and give it a squeeze while reassuring “Billie you have nothing to be sorry for. Some people are difficult but at the end of the day they won't see me again and they're probably projecting their own self-consciousness onto me.”

The blonde looks down to where your hands join, and she runs her thumb over the top of your knuckles as she says “But you shouldn't have to put up with that and I'm sorry you have to. It hurts me to see you being mistreated like that because I-I—”

Love you too much. 

Billie cuts herself off before she can speak those powerful words. Where did that come from? She doesn't not love you. But is she willing to open a door that can't be shut once opened? 

That's when the medium notices your eyes rapidly scanning her face and your brows wrinkled so she clears her throat and finishes, “I- I care about you so much. Not that I don't think you can't handle tough workdays, but—you just, you deserve the best, y/n.”

Did Billie Dean Howard just stumble over her words to articulate her care for you? Yes. Yes, she did. 

You can't help but smile at her unusually vulnerable demeanor and reply, “Well I appreciate your words. That means a lot to me Billie.” You both look to each other for a moment and it finally feels like the weight of the day is starting to roll off of you. 

After a moment you break eye contact but keep your hand in hers as you pull out your phone and say, “I saw that they had a variety of pizzas on the room service menu including your favorite—meat lover’s. Would that interest you?” 

Your boss gets that familiar grin that sends butterflies to your stomach and replies with a wink, “That sounds perfect sweetheart.” You go ahead and place the order now so that there will be a hot and fresh pizza waiting for you both in her hotel room...

One meat lover’s pizza later, you are barefaced and changed into a matching set of sweatpants and sweatshirt for bed, sitting in one of the lounge chairs next to the windows overlooking the city. 

Billie still wears her clothes, sans her heels, and sits on the bed leaning back against the mountain of pillows the hotel staff so meticulously positioned back against the headboard. Her legs extend in front of her with her ankles crossed and she looks to the screen of her laptop resting on her thighs as she listens to her new PR manager.

In an effort to prevent distracting her and to keep quiet since you technically should be in ‘your room,’ you curl up with a blanket and read your book. At the same time, you halfway listen to her PR manager explaining, “Tomorrow morning at 9:00 you will be interviewed by Savannah and Hoda on the Today Show. Now that's their prime-time slot...”

Between the ambient city sounds, Billie’s soft voice when she asks a question or affirms something, and your own fatigue, as you run your eyes down the novel’s page you find your eyelids getting heavier and heavier until they can't stay open. 

Of course the medium notices you nodding off until you finally fall asleep and smiles at how hard you fought to keep your eyes open. However she also realizes she hasn't seen you crash like that since she made love to you on the kitchen counter. You're always up before her, keeping track of her even when she takes breaks, and more often than not you're asleep after she is. Yet you never complain or make a big deal out of it.

“Miss Howard? Is something wrong?” 

Brings Billie back to reality and her eyes snap back to her computer screen to see the PR manager with furrowed brows. The blonde clears her throat and her eyes flick back up to peek at your sleeping figure before she puts on her practiced smile and looks to the computer screen. “No sorry. Just worn out from the day's activities.” She responds, telling a half-truth. They smile and nod in understanding before assuring, “Well I'm just about done so I'll be quick.”

As the PR manager rambles on Billie does her best to pay attention, but they don't speak to her like you do. 

You put so much thought into your advice, watching and observing her, always taking notes about possible blind spots. And you do everything in your power to prevent those from showing up in public spaces or interviews. Whereas they give obvious suggestions. But if it gets the TV producers off of her back she'll grin and bear it. In the meantime, the blonde sneaks glances at your huddled up sleeping figure and tries to memorize every minute detail.

When the PR manager ends the video call, she shuts her laptop and you shift to get more comfortable, resulting in the book that was precariously held in your hand falling to the floor. But the noise has no effect on you except you wrap your now free arm around yourself and let out a deep sigh as you settle further into the chair.

Billie sits up and sets her laptop on the side table before uncrossing her legs and sliding off the bed. Then her slender feet pad against the luxe carpet to where you sleep. 

First she bends down to pick up your splayed out book and properly places it on the coffee table nearby. When the medium stands back up, she looks down at your serious sleeping expression. 

Without thinking one of her hands comes up to cup your cheek and she watches the corner of your lips twitch and your eyes roam beneath your closed lids. There are moments when Billie swears she can read your mind like a book. However then there are moments like now when she wishes that she could just get a glimpse of the complex galaxy of your thoughts and experiences.

As usual your skin is cool to the touch, so the warmth of her flesh against yours prompts you to nuzzle into her hand even in your sleep. Billie lets out of soft chuckle at the movement and brushes her thumb along the peak of your cheekbone in a soothing manner as she whispers, “Do you even realize how special you are y/n? You're so precious to me sweetheart. So, so precious.” 

Of course you don't hear any of that but a small smile forms on your lips at the feeling of her thumb and she's more than ready to advance from caressing your face to holding you close in bed.

So she glides the palm of her hand from the apple of your cheek, down the column of your throat, to your shoulder and gives you a small shake while murmuring, “Y/n, darling?” 

Her low, velvety voice pulls you out of your slumber and you inhale deeply, unintentionally filling your nose with her sweet scent. Then you slowly open your eyes while rasping, “Hmm?” Billie chuckles at your groggy response and moves to lightly scratch your shoulder with her smooth, rounded nails while softly suggesting, “How about we get you in bed?”

At this point you're awake enough to yawn and make a big stretch as much as your seated position will allow. But your brain is still too foggy to speak so you merely nod. 

Billie goes to take her hand away, however in your sleepy daze you reach out and take it, knitting your fingers with hers before standing up. The blonde's eyes widen at your instigated touch, but you don't notice her changed expression—too focused on gathering your blanket in your other hand. And when you do have it gathered you skip looking to her face for instruction. Rather you begin to walk and she follows suit.

Once you sit on the edge of the king-sized bed you keep ahold of Billie's hand and ask, “You're coming to bed too, right?” 

Her heart melts at the hopeful twinkle in your eyes and for a moment Billie is overcome with so much joy her eyes glass up. However she reins herself in and puts on her well-practiced smirk, attempting to effortlessly reply “After I've changed out of my clothes I will. Ok?” 

You don’t want her to leave your side. And in your state of fatigue, a little whine escapes your throat. But you reluctantly unwind your fingers from hers and answer, “Ok.” Then she helps you pull back the covers to lay down. After you’re laid back on the firm, yet pliable mattress, you let out a lethargic sigh and say in a small voice, “Billie I have a question.”

The blonde tucks the covers around you and leans down to peck your lips before replying with a smile, “Fire when ready.” 

You smile at her phrase and now that you’re all warm and cozy, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. So ask with the lowered gaze, “Could you hand me my phone so I can set my alarm please?” You force yourself to wake up enough to you look back at her chocolate brown eyes she pecks the tip of your nose before purring, “I would be happy to, honey.”

After bringing your phone over, Billie goes to the bathroom to change and you use every last ounce of your willpower to stay awake until she comes out with the same light coral negligee on that reminds you of creamsicle ice cream and her hair brushed out. 

First, she flips the lights off leaving you shrouded in darkness. You feel the duvet lift and her weight shift the mattress as she climbs into bed. And when you sense her close to you, you roll over and wrap an arm around her middle while intertwining one of your legs with hers. Only then do you mumble into the bend of her neck, “This is ok-right?”

The medium chuckles at your ability to be so bold one second and so timid the next. But her hands slide up your back to hug you close to her chest as she whispers, “This is perfect.” Thank goodness. 

You nuzzle into her silky locks, let out a contented sigh, and whisper, “Good.” Within minutes you're fast asleep in her warm, comforting embrace.

Billie listens to your deep breaths and absentmindedly strokes her fingers up and down your spine as she tries to navigate her feelings for you. However, the more she thinks about it the more her thoughts spiral out of control. So for tonight she lets the steady stream of your breaths lull her to sleep, relishing in the present moment with you in her arms and letting the future worry about itself.

Tagged:  @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @whatabluddymess​, @natasha-danvers, @saucy-sapphic​, @marvelfansince08love​, @wilheminawinters​, @dontsblameme​, @mssallymckenna, @myheadmistress​

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

Part 7

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 4

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 4. Click here for part 1 | part 2 | part 3

--

You don’t know how it happens.

Okay, you kinda do.

One night, you get a text from Will that’s just a screenshot of a very strongly worded email to a certain balloon company, and then three crying-from-laughter emojis.

Still not funny!!! you text back, and you expect not to hear from Will again until the wedding.

You’re wrong. When he texts you again the next day, asking how you work was, you figure it would be rude not to answer, and then when the phone rings late one night, you worry something is wrong, so you answer that, too.

“What was your day like?” Will’s voice is quiet and timid when he asks, and you take it you’re not gonna talk about that awful game they just had, so you talk to him about your day for an hour until his voice is lighter and he’s laughing again.

It starts happening more and more, and before you really realize it, it’s weird when you haven’t heard from Willy in a day.

To be truthful, it turns out Zach was right; as he usually is, which you would rather die than tell him. 

But Will is different when it’s just you two, and your favorite moments with him are when he calls after games and his voice is laced with sleep and you can nearly hear the smile through his voice when he asks you about your day. Everything about him is muted, then, but it feels real, and important, somehow.

You even learn to appreciate how annoyingly chipper he is, because sometimes you really do need someone to just laugh at your bad mood until it goes away.

You also learn that, like you expected on the plane to Calgary, Will keeps his head high but it’s mostly a facade. Comments get to him, especially when they’re about his hockey – “that’s the only thing I was supposed to be good at” he jokes one time, and you wanna hit him over the head with his hockey stick until he understands that that’s not true – and he takes everything personal, although he tries not to show it.

Everything you didn’t like about him, you find out, is something you either got wrong about him or learned to appreciate.

And there’s so much more to like about him, too.

One night, after a really bad day at work, you have a fight with your sister about Noah’s stupid wedding. 

“Why are you so against coming?” your sister says, a little too aggressive. “Surely you aren’t still in love with him? He’s happy with Betty, Y/N.” 

Of course you’re not still in love with Noah, but it hurts that she can’t just accept that you don’t wanna go. That she can’t take your side in this, even if she doesn’t know the full story. She should trust that you’re not being difficult for no reason.

And you can’t help yourself; it’s late and you know Will just got done with his game, and he’s all the way in Carolina but you call him anyway.

He answers almost immediately.

“Y/N?” he asks, and he sounds surprised. It’s to be expected, because he’s almost always the one calling you, but it stings a little, nonetheless.

“Uhm, hi.” You pause. “Is it… okay that I called?”

“Of course. Always.” Will sounds truthful, so you decide to take his word for it.There’s no more extra space in your brain to worry about that, as well. 

“Congrats on the game.”

“Thanks.” You hear Willy’s grin. “I’ve told Zachy we’re both very proud of him for that OT winner.” There’s an indignant huff next to him that sounds a lot like Zach and you figure they’re still on the bus, where Willy usually sits with Kappy or Zach.

It’s quiet, then Willy’s voice, treading very carefully: “Is something wrong? You don’t sound too happy.” There’s some stumbling and you can almost see how Willy must be elbowing Zach away from the phone, because Zach is basically an overprotective dad whenever he hears anyone isn’t doing well.

But Willy… Willy isn’t like that, but he sounds worried anyway, and he sounds gentle like he’s trying to calm you down, and suddenly you’re telling him everything: about the day you’ve had and your job that sucks and that you’re worried about the wedding and why can’t your family just trust you, for once, and what if this all isn’t worth it just to keep your family happy?

When you’re done, Willy’s voice is soothing. The background noise has disappeared. Maybe the bus has stopped.

“It’s worth it,” is what he says. “You know it’s worth it.”

You sigh. It’s annoying still that he’s usually right.

“I just don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“And tonight you don’t have to.” There’s a sudden noise and then Will cursing. “Fuck, sorry, hold on, I’m trying to open this stupid hotel door…” More crashing and banging, and then Willy’s voice reappears. “Tonight you don’t have to deal with anything, okay? We can FaceTime and watch a movie together.”

And that… That actually sounds really nice, and like it doesn’t require any brain power which is good because you have none of that left anyway.

“Hey, what’s your favorite take out food?”

It’s such a random question, out of the blue, and when you tell him that, the blurry FaceTime screen can’t hide his eye roll.

“It’s just something friends are supposed to know about each other, now tell me.”

“Sushi when I’m feeling fancy,” you say, “or pizza when I need comfort food.”

You can’t even pretend to be that surprised when a massive pizza shows up at your door 30 minutes later.

You hate that it nearly brings tears to your eyes, but after the day you’ve had…

“Thank you, Willy,” you mumble, and there’s something soft to his look when he smiles at you.

“What are friends for?” he asks, and you realize you don’t even mind that he’s declared himself your friend, now.

A few weeks ago, you would’ve disputed it. But now, you find yourself kinda wishing it could be more.

--

What are friends for is apparently your motto now, and it’s all a little strange as you get into the car, your fanciest, most beautiful dress and highest heels on.

“You look great,” Zach says. He’s wearing a suit and his hair is slicked back, the way it always is when he’s really trying.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you reply, a little grumpily. “I hate team events.”

“I never did understand why.” Zach starts the car and backs out of your driveway. You’ve been told Alannah is going to the venue straight from work, and Willy had an appointment and couldn’t come get you, which is why you’re in the car with Zach, now.

“Because I don’t fit in there.” It’s the honest answer, but it’s obviously not the whole story. The whole story is that those events are filled with beautiful women, and you never feel quite up to par; like you snuck into a place you’re not welcome, not supposed to be welcome, either. But Zach wouldn’t get that. Willy wouldn’t get that either.

And you just couldn’t come up with an excuse fast enough, not when he said: “But Y/N, it’s for charity.”

It would not matter to the charity, of course, if you didn’t come. But Willy had looked so hopeful, and then he’d pulled out the final card: “It’s gonna be way more fun with you there by my side.”

And now you’re wearing a dress appropriate for a charity gala, which means you’ve never felt more uncomfortable in anything in your life, and your feet already hurt from your heels, and this was such a bad idea, God.

“You know,” Zach says, and his tone tells you this conversation is going somewhere you don’t want it to go. “Willy doesn’t like these events either. It means a lot to him that you’re coming for support.”

You nearly roll your eyes. “Willy charmed the socks off every person at my boss’ wedding, Zachy. He really doesn’t need my support for these kinda things.”

Zach’s face stays stoic. “Yeah, but nobody at that wedding knew him.”

“So?” you frown. “That should only be a disadvantage, considering he’s William Nylander.”

Zach laughs, then. “Still haven’t figured it out, then? I’m disappointed in you, Y/N. I thought you were good at reading people.”

“Hey!” you react, offended. You are good at reading people. It’s one of the things you pride yourself on. “If you know it all so well, why don’t you just tell me?”

Zach sighs. “Willy doesn’t like these events anymore because he is William Nylander, as you say it, and that’s not really a popular name in Leafs territory, right now.”

And, oh.

That.

“I did realize he cares a lot more about what people think than I thought he did.” You pause. “More than he should, probably.”

“Definitely.” Zach’s face has that protective big brother vibe about it, again. You used to not understand, why he always looked like that when people were talking shit about Willy.

You get it, now.

“There’s always plenty more people telling him he’s great, than there are people sending him snarky looks,” Zach continues. “But he never really believes any compliments he gets, so that doesn’t help.”

Suddenly, you realize something.

You’ve never really… complimented Willy? Even when you realized he cared more than he let on, you still just assumed he knew how great he was. Sometimes, he kinda fishes for something – “Did you see my goal?” “How about my cooking abilities?” “I know how to pick a good movie, right?” – but you’d always laughed and chirped him for it.

“If your head gets any bigger, it’ll explode.”

And Willy is always complimenting you; he tells you you look great all the time, even when you decidedly dont’t, but he clearly remembered what you told him about Noah because that’s never the only thing he compliments you about.

He tells you how smart you are, “I like how good you are with animals”, how any food you make is the best thing he’s ever eaten, if only everyone was as lovely as you.

You feel guilty, now. If Willy is your friend, you’ve really not been doing such a good job at being his friend, too.

You’re fixing that tonight, you decide right then and there.

“I’ll make him believe it,” you tell Zach, and it comes out sounding vaguely threatening.

Zach laughs. “Thought you didn’t like him?”

“Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought he was,” you admit, and you don’t tell Zach how much you really, really do like Willy, but you think Zach kinda knows anyway. 

Will meets you at the door, where Alannah is also waiting for Zach. He smiles at you, eyes soft.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” He quickly presses his lips to your temple, which is a new development that you don’t really know how to handle.

But Will is a tactile guy, anyway, so you’re sure you shouldn’t read too much into it.

You see Zach’s raised eyebrow, and suddenly remember – fine, maybe you’d forgotten your objective for a second because Will looks really hot in that suit, but you’re back on track now.

“You look beautiful too, Will.”

Willy’s eyes widen and a flush creeps up on his cheek, but before he can answer you grab his hand and pull him into the building.

It’s a fancy, really expensive hotel, where the gala is being held. It’s filled to the brim with people, a few of which you recognize, most of which you don’t.

“That chandelier must be worth more than our entire house,” Alannah mutters, and you’re glad to see it’s affecting her too, although she’s been to these events many times.

Zach laughs. “With a puppy in the house, aren’t you glad we don’t have any furniture that costs more than our mortgage?”

“Do you want a drink?” Will’s lips are close enough to your ear to hear him over the noise of the crowd and the music in the background, and also close enough to feel his hot breath against your neck. It takes everything in you not to shiver.

Maybe you do need a drink. Or ten.

Willy and Zach go to get the drinks and Alannah leads you to where some of the other WAGs are. Steph is the only one you know and she hugs you as soon as she sees you coming, then introduces you to the rest.

“So, you’re with Will, huh?” she asks, eyebrows waggling.

You were expecting that question, but maybe not so soon into the evening.

“Uhm,” you cough, “not really. Just his plus one for tonight.”

“Sure,” Steph says, and she looks like she doesn’t believe you at all.News always travels fast in the WAGs group, and Alannah is looking a little guilty.

You find you don’t mind so much, that they think that you’re together. Although you really don’t wanna think about why you don’t mind. 

When Willy finds you, Kappy and his girlfriend are with him, and the four of you make your rounds throughout the room, talking to any sponsor that seems interested in a conversation. Mostly you just stand there while Willy talks, his hand on your back as if he’s scared you’re gonna run off.

“I always thought this would be a lot of work,” you mumble in Willy’s ear, when you’re between conversation partners. “But I really only have to stand here and look pretty.”

Willy grins. “Seems like it comes natural to you.”

Right. You kinda forgot about the compliments again.

You shrug, lean a little closer until you’re basically pressed into his side. It feels a little too right, maybe, how quickly Will’s arm wraps around your waist.

“You’re really good at talking to these people.” You’re talking pretty loudly, but you’re pretty sure Will is the only one that can hear you over the noise. “The second you open your mouth, people are so charmed by you. I think you could make anyone love you.”

Willy’s eyes flash to the floor, and they stay fixed there as he mumbles something that sounds a lot like another “uhm”.

His cheeks are flushed red, and you’re saved from having to deal with that as Auston appears, eyes wild and jaw tense.

“I’m being stalked,” he hisses. “This old white dude literally won’t leave me alone even for a second. He’s been following me around for an hour. Help.”

Willy bursts into giggles, which is probably not very helpful, and the betrayal on Auston’s face is enough to make you feel bad for him.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing his arm, “let’s go hide behind the bar.”

--

It’s easier than you thought it would be, to get through the evening. In fact, when Will asks you if you’re ready to go, you hadn’t even noticed it had become so late.

You say goodbye to the few people you know and gratefully accept Willy’s offer to drive you home.

The car ride is silent. It’s not awkward, but the air is heavy with something, and you curse yourself for all those times you wished Willy would just shut up, because now he has and you hate every second of it.

Did your compliments freak him out? Did he regret asking you to come?

“So,” Will finally says, as he stops in front of a traffic light. He’s not looking at you, keeping his gaze firmly on the road ahead of him. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Zach told me you don’t like these events,” you try, carefully. You’ve never had to pull something out of Will, force him to open up; he’s always just kinda done it, from the very moment you met him, shared parts of himself with you that you never had to search for.

For you, who’s never learned how to not keep something hidden, that was maybe the thing that unnerved you about him the most.

“I like doing things for charity,” Will answers, and you can tell he’s picking his words carefully. “But I don’t like people looking at me as if I’m some kinda disappointment who doesn’t belong there.”

“Have they ever said anything?”

“No.” Will smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and there’s a hint of sadness laced in it. “Not to my face, anyway. But I’m not stupid, you know.”

No, he’s not stupid. For all the conflicting thoughts you’ve had about him, you never thought he was stupid.

And you never thought he was a bad contract, either. It seems imperative, suddenly, that he knows that.

“Willy,” you say softly, and although his eyes are still on the road, you know he’s paying attention. “You can’t seriously believe that you’re anything but an amazing hockey player. You’re worth that contract and you’re worth the effort Dubas put into keeping you here. You’re so smart, and I know people don’t always see it but you work so hard, and Matts was so happy when you got back on his line because he knew you would be magic together.”

Will’s cheeks are red but this time, he’s not mumbling when he says: “I know I haven’t been playing as well as I can.”

“Stop,” you tell him, softly but forcefully. “Stop deflecting, stop dodging. Just take the compliment and believe me when I say you’re great at what you do.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he says, his voice a bit shaky, and that’s a different kind of deflecting but it’s still deflecting, and it’s hurting your heart.

“William Nylander,” you scold, and then you do what you’ve been wanting to do this entire evening and let yourself reach out and put a hand on his knee. “Just accept the compliment.”

Willy carefully reaches down to grab your hand, intertwines your fingers together as he lets both your hands rest on his thigh. He’s holding the steering wheel with one hand, but he’s driving pretty slowly and the roads are deserted, so you’re not too worried.

You’re more worried about the fact that he just doesn’t believe you.

“You’re a great hockey player,” you repeat, stubbornly. “And a great person.”

Finally Willy allows himself to smile, this small, rueful thing that sticks somewhere deep inside your chest, folds up next to your heart like it’s gonna stay there forever.

“Thank you,” he says, and maybe he still doesn’t really believe it but this is as far as you’re gonna get tonight and maybe that’s okay.

You’ve got time.

The car has reached your flat and Will parks it in your driveway. It’s quiet, and he hasn’t let go of your hand, and you kinda don’t want him to.

The night is over, probably.

But there’s still one thing you need to tell him, though. “It doesn’t matter, Will,” you say softly. “What those people think. It doesn’t matter.”

“No,” Willy agrees, and for the first time you can tell he believes it. “But it matters what you think.”

He finally turns to look at you and there’s so many emotions swirling in the deep blue of his eyes, but you can’t really put your finger on any of them. All you know is your heart is beating in your throat, and you really want to kiss him.

But Willy still looks a little sad, and you have a feeling there’s something he’s not saying.

“I told you I think you’re great,“ you tell him, and it’s the truth.

“But you didn’t, before.” Will hesitates. “I told you I’m not stupid. I know when people find me annoying.” He shrugs. “I get it. I know I can be too much.”

And God, there’s so much hurt in that, so much pain and yet understanding, and you can tell he truly believes that, and you would do anything to take that away from him.

Anything.

So.

“I didn’t like you,” you admit, but when Will goes to pull back his hand, you simply hold on tighter. “I was wrong. I didn’t know you, and I was wrong. Now I know you. And I like you.” You inhale, pause. “I like you so much I don’t really know what to do with myself, sometimes.”

It’s quiet. You can nearly see the wheels turning in Willy’s head as he searches your face for something; something to tell him you’re not being truthful, maybe, that it doesn’t mean what he thinks it does.

If that’s what he’s looking for, he won’t find it. 

Then he drops your hand, jumps out of the car and slams the door.

Disappointment and hurt washes over you; you knew you had to try, had to put your heart out there, but it hurts that it’s smashed into pieces like that. Clearly you read it wrong, clearly you still don’t know how to tell what Willy’s feeling.

Except then your door opens, and Willy is holding out his hand.

“Come on,” he says, and his voice sounds… fond? You don’t know exactly what to think about it, but he doesn’t sound angry, or upset.

Against better judgement, you grab his hand and get out of the car.

“I have to tell you something,” Will says. And, there’s no way that he’s doing what you think he’s doing, but his hands are suddenly traveling up, one reaching to cup your cheek, the other settling on your waist. His eyes are staring into yours intently, and they’re twinkling but it’s not the same mischievous twinkle you’re used to seeing.

“I really like you, too,” Willy says, and he leans in and presses his lips against yours.

For a split second, you stand there, not quite knowing what just happened, but then his hand tightens on your hip and you realize that this is real, this is happening, and Will’s kissing you.

So you kiss back. You let your body lean heavy against the car, place your hands on his biceps and pull him closer, until his chest is flush against yours. The kiss deepens, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat synching up with his.

The night is dark, and quiet, and it rains a little, but you feel none of it.

All you feel is Will, surrounding you, and everything is beautiful and exactly the way it’s supposed to be.

[jenovahh]

Wild Greens Choke Tended Gardens - Ch. 4 - Gladiolus (Sword Lily)

He’s bored.

He usually is, but something about the monotony of everyday life seems particularly...bothersome now.

It has been another day of delegating and overseeing, having returned to the Garlean Embassy within Kugane after releasing the Warrior of Light back to her friends.

“I’m A’yana Salvia, the Warrior of Light.” She huffs, her tail giving an angry flick. “And you are going to let my friends go, peacefully.”

He can’t help but let loose a chuckle then, eyes unseeing as a servant refills his glass of wine. He had to admit, it was certainly amusing to see how readily she stood up to him, how she was devoid of fear despite her defeat by his hand at their last encounter. He couldn’t help but find the entire situation...refreshing.

“You are strong, but I am willing to lay down my life for my friends. I would do whatever it takes to allow them to escape.”

He had heard of people like her. Noble. Dutiful. Selfless.

A waste, comes the thought unbidden.

He had never understood those types, those that threw down their lives for the sake of others. Those who attached their sole reason to do battle to weak concepts such as selflessness and pride.

Man should fight for the joy of it. Only man could fight for fightings’ sake.

“Why are you even here?”

He can’t help but grin to himself, remembering her rage, how her eyes flashed with unbridled fury at his insult of her skills. How he could see any desire to save her friends had bled from her eyes and turned into a wish to see him dead where he stood.

“You had come looking for me, have you not? Sorry to disappoint you once again, but I am the Warrior of Light and the Warrior of Light is me.”

A’yana Salvia, the Warrior of Light…

Standing from his chair, he excuses himself, not allowing himself to head to his rooms straightaway. While sleep was tempting, if only to spare him from the boredom of the waking hours, he had something to occupy his time if only for a little while.

He walks the halls until he reaches a door, punching in the code to unlock the latch to allow him inside. Behind the door was an office, nearly as opulent as his own back home in Garlemald, filled with all manner of books and files and maps. Upon the desk was a neat stack of paper, along with a single book, bound in leather with gold trim.

Nearing the desk he sits himself in the high backed chair accompanying it, leaning back for a bit of comfort as he takes the documents in hand and reads the note on the first page.

A Brief History of the Warrior of Light, A’yana Salvia

At his request had his men been tasked with finding out as much about the Warrior of Light as possible, from the time of her birth to what she liked to eat for dinner. He was if anything thorough, and he had failed his own standards by not being able to connect her title with the Miqo’te woman herself. He would not make that mistake again.

Flipping the page, he is surprised to find there is little known about the details of her birth. The report goes on to say how there were no official records or reports or even hearsay of her birth, no ties back to any childhood homes. Even her parents were a mystery. Despite his best efforts to remain impartial, he couldn’t help but sit a little straighter, intrigued by the concept of a hero who came from nothing, but not in the traditional sense.

To anyone who tried to delve into her origins, they would find nothing. Even nomads, even beggars of savage city-states had some history and telling of their beginnings, and yet…

A’yana Salvia had none.

And not for lack of trying, either. The report goes on to say that others have attempted to dig deeper into her past, but no one, not even those known to be close to her know of her origins. It is said that she had almost seemed to appear from the mists, an adult ready to explore the world when she had been discovered by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to come together to orchestrate Baelsar’s defeat.

It was all rather peculiar, that someone of such power had so little known about their life, save for their deeds as the hero. Enough deeds, that someone had deigned to write an entire book practically detailing her accomplishments.

The Dragonsong War, by Count Edmont Fortemps lays on the desk still, its leather staring back at him unassumingly. Cutting his eyes back to the report, he flips through the pages, seeing more information he had known already in addition to whatever his men could scrounge up. He had already heard the Garlean side of Baelsar’s defeat, but the report managed to dig up a few more details, such as her befriending of the traitor, Cid nan Garlond.

Done with the report, he picks up the tome, flipping through the first few pages that details the author’s early life. His years as a child were oft spent in between the shelves of the royal library, the princeling easily gaining the ability to scan through tome for information he sought.

Reaching the beginning of the retelling, some of the words begin to jog his memory. He had heard of the first brood. Heard of the terrifying power of Midgardsormr and his equally terrifying children from books about the fall of Agrius. The war of a thousand years waged by one of the dragon’s sons, fueled by nothing but his hatred for mortals. He had not seen such a beast himself, but he knew that the stories were true that despite not holding their sire's power, the first brood were still magnificent in their own right.

And she had slain him, this Nidhogg.

The Warrior of Light was lucky, yes, but there was no denying her power.

How could such potential be housed in such a small frame, such gifts be given to someone so... unworthy?

Part of him whispered that she was not as unworthy as he thought. The slowly fading scar on his neck attested to that.

It had been years since he sustained such an injury, his fingers constantly drifting to his neck anytime glanced at himself in a mirror. It had long since healed, the scarring not an angry red, but pale and silvery, as if dust from the moon itself had been imbued in her magic.

His eyelids fall close as he relives the rush of pain, the rush of feeling his blood well up into tiny pebbles at the small cut on his skin. He was strong enough to withstand her magic without difficulty, but even the discomfort it gave told him that the average man would find it nigh unbearable.

Their gap in power was not as large as it first seemed. Unlike him she lacked training, lacked control.

Somehow that was part of his unintentional obsession. He had built himself from the ground up with power, doing all he could to become a better hunter. The prestigious prince who had the best instructors in the land brought to his home to teach him, versus the feline warrior from shrouded origins with nothing but a blessing and luck to her name.

It was almost laughable really, and yet he found himself more intrigued than he cared to admit. He continues to flip through the pages, eyes dragging across the Ishgardian cursive script with the barest hint of detachment, his eyes steadily drifting closed.

He's dreaming again.

The usual warmth surrounds him, melding into his bones in a way that is frighteningly comforting. It has always been like this, yet only now does he consciously realize it is so.

It feels akin to--

The feeling of her in his arms--

"Thinking of someone?"

The dreamspace shifts and coalesces into another dense forest, though this time it is dark and moonlight drifts through the trees. His friend is behind him, their presence still formless and yet not, their energy seeming much looser and not all there.

"Why would you draw such a conclusion?" He asks, brows furrowed, not even bothering to turn to face what is not there.

"That woman," they begin, "the Warrior of Light. Was she not in your thoughts?"

He remains silent gazing up at the moon. It's milky surface stares back at him, shining brightly and illuminating the depths of his soul. He closes his eyes and allows himself to bask in its glow, the strange sense of comfort drifting across him again.

A minute passes before he realizes he's not given an answer. "Yes."

He hears tinkling sounds behind him, but still he does not turn to face them. "I like her."

Frowning, he responds in monotone. "That makes one of us."

Silence sits between both of them for another beat. "Do you feel nothing when you look in her eyes?"

He does whirl on them then glaring at their misty form. "I thought we already discussed this." he growls.

“Discussed what?” They question nonchalantly.

“Discussed this...soulmate nonsense--” he grounds out, glaring harder as their tinkling laughter surrounds him and their form solidifies a little more. “And what is so amusing?” he snaps, crossing his arms across his chest. “Do you find my innermost thoughts a source of entertainment?”

Though they don't have the form to manage it, even he can sense them shrugging nonchalantly. "I have only ever wanted you to be happy Zenos."

His lips move to form the words that he is happy, but he cannot bring himself to state such a blatant lie. Not to himself, not to his friend, because whether he liked it or not, they always found out the truth.

“And how would she make me happy?” he questions, regaining a little more composure. “She is weak. Untrained. She is used to having her equally weak companions throw her at whatever god arises and vanquishing it with raw power and sheer luck.” he scoffs, lip curling at the thought. “How could such a weakling make me happy?”

“You question how she could make you happy, yet you have spared her twice.” They respond, not at all bothered by his lofty tone.

Wrinkling his nose, he turns away from them again, trailing off into the forest. “A mistake I will soon rectify when next we meet.”

“Did she not say herself that you have caught her out of her element?” They press on, following behind him at a safe distance.

“What good is someone incapable of fighting on any battleground?” Zenos asks, uncaring as water from the creek soaks his pants leg. “Either she will prove that she is the challenge I seek when next we meet, or she shall die by my hand.”

His friend giggles behind them then, and he can’t help but turn once more to see their form a bit more solid. Were they always so much smaller than him? “And just what is it that you find so humorous?” He grumbles, sighing as the breeze caresses his skin.

“If only you could see it yourself, Zenos.” They giggle, their laughter like the tinkling of bells. “Try as you might, you're more invested than you let on.”

Frowning, Zenos finds that that thought resonates with him a bit more than he’d like. “You have known me this long. Am I anything other than thorough?” He asks, coming to a stop as he gazes out at the greenery before him.

“You are right, I have known you this long. Long enough to know when you are nearly obsessed. Long enough to know you thirst for more.” They echo, the dreamscape once again fading, his friend’s voice drifting away as it becomes indiscernible from the wind whispering through the trees.

Blinking away sleep, moonlight pours through the window, signaling he had been sleeping for quite some time. Shifting to a standing position, rolls his shoulders, preparing to retire for the night until he sees some of the Kugane guards running about in the streets.

Drifting closer to the window, he watches their paper lanterns light their path as they scuttle along, their voices muffled but Zenos can gather enough of what is going on. They seem to be trying to apprehend someone.

No longer interested, he prepares to turn away until a particular group’s conversation is loud enough to drift up to him.

Scions of the Seventh Dawn…

Garlean traitors…

The Warrior of Light--

His feet have carried him out of the office and toward the main entrance before he can even stop himself to ask what he’s doing. His soldiers question him, but he only feels his lips form the orders to not follow him if they wish to remain living. Grabbing a single sword, he stalks out into the night, noting that the guards have moved further into the city.

His hair trails behind him as he makes his way to where the general populace of Kugane resides, sticking close to the alleys as he keeps track of the guard’s movements through the streets. They are rather disorganized, and already he has spotted the two women the warrior calls her friends sneaking through the city to their destination. He does not doubt the Warrior of Light is far behind, taking the backstreets to keep a low profile. While not in his full regalia, there was nothing else he could be but the prince, and any guard that did happen to spot him wisely overlooked his presence.

It would also not do to have the woman know he was out looking for her as well. She’s doing a surprisingly good job of hiding from him; surely he would have spotted her at least once by now.

He keeps up his search until a group of guards begins shouting, their exclamations turned into coughs as a cloud of smoke erupts in the city street. Hurried footsteps barrel toward him and with all the grace of a predator does he reach out and snag the would be intruder, dragging them into the shadows as the smoke clears. They struggle against him but go still as the guards begin searching the area, failing to notice the two huddled together under a dark alcove.

As the sounds grow quieter, they renew their struggle, prompting Zenos to let them go.

“What are you doing?!” The Warrior of Light hisses, fangs catching the faintest bit of moonlight, sapphire eyes gleaming up at him in the darkness.

“Protecting my investment.” He responds dryly, watching as that riles her further.

“Your investment?!” She whispers harshly, looking as if she would love nothing more than to raise her voice.

“Letting you live was not without cost. Until I duel you under more...favorable circumstances, then it would be in my best interest to make sure no misfortune befalls you.” He sighs, watching as her eyes go wide with shock before narrowing once again.

“I did not need your help!” She growls, preparing to leave, but he blocks her path.

“I am inclined to disagree.” He purrs, unable to keep himself from poking the hot embers before him, in hopes that he’ll be burned. “Kugane may be a state of neutrality, but even they know that they must bow to the emperor, or risk their way of life being upset.” He hums, watching the gears turn in her head. “I would hate to bring attention to your location, or worse, your friends who I saw pass by earlier…” he trails off, unable to keep amusement from suffusing his words.

Her expression steels immediately.

Ah...there it is.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She whispers, the sound so sinister and low that he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine.

“Would I?” he goads, eyes darting to how she flexes her claws. “While I have endeavored to occupy my time with more important matters, I find you have too many mysteries surrounding you for my curiosity to ignore.” He continues, watching an unreadable expression pass through her eyes. “Answer my questions truthfully, and I will allow you to return to your friends. Refuse…”

“Right, right, ask your stupid questions.” She snaps, crossing her arms across her chest.

He had expected more arguing from her, but he’s pleased to see that she is at least practical. “The first: why are you running?”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness sometime ago, able to see her tail give an angry flick. “My friends and I were looking for a comrade of ours. Unfortunately we trusted a stupid fish who tried to turn us into your soldiers.” She grumbles, ears flicking to and fro as if still listening for guards.

“A comrade? For what purpose?” He continues on, unconsciously taking a step toward her. The alley is narrow and already one step has him nearly looming over her.

“To liberate Doma, what else?” She retorts, not at all afraid of him.

“You mean to free Doma?” He laughs, taking another step closer. She does take a step back then, though he can tell it is not from fear. Her eyes have not left his, fierce and unafraid. “While I applaud your ambition, I believe I have shown you twice now where standing against me will bring you.” He rumbles, voice thrumming in his chest. “What primal will your friends throw you at next, little Warrior? What tasks will they place upon you to bear alone?” He presses on, smirking all the while. “I have heard of Eorzea’s Savior, though a more aptly named title would be...Eorzea’s Errand Girl. Barring she is not killed first.”

“You…” she seethes, not even flinching as he backs her against a wall. He stands tall above her then, but she does not tremble, does not shake even though most people cower in his presence, his proximity notwithstanding. Even in the dark he can see the slits of her eyes have widened to let in more light, giving her superior vision in the night. Her fangs capture his attention with how sharp they actually are, but most of all…

It is the rage he feels from her that makes him shudder.

“Is this all you sought me out for? To insult me and make me question how my friends care for me?” She huffs, standing her ground.

“I have asked questions, but not made you question anything, Warrior of Light.” he chuckles, her title sounding like silk on his tongue. “I am merely curious about your endeavors, as any enemy would be. Is that so wrong?” He taunts, hoping for another violent reaction, but his smirk fades as a determination enters her eyes, one that stills his breath.

“You will listen and listen well, Garlean.” She hisses, reaching for his hair and yanking him down, the movement surprising him so thoroughly, his brain is still struggling to catch up. Never had anyone dare to take such liberties with his person. Even the servants whose job was solely to take care of his hair asked for permission to do their job.

That his body almost moves at her will, bringing him face to face with her so that she can glare at him from her level, sets something alight within him. A burn he had not felt his whole life. In this moment his entire being is tuned into her, tuned into the quiet conviction in her eyes.

“You may insult me all you like, but I will not allow you to insult my friends. Yes, they may be unable to fight a majority of battles without my help, but it is help I give gladly, it is help I give willingly.” She seethes, his eyes paying close attention to how the curl of her lip keeps her fangs displayed, almost as if in reminder of how she could sink them in his throat. The thought makes him shiver with an unnamed emotion. “As I had informed you at my capture, I don’t have time to play with a spoiled prince. My friends need my help and if it means giving up my life to help them, then so be it.” She growls, giving his hair one more tug and it goes straight to his groin.

“Now, you will be letting me go, without any fuss.” She demands, and just like that, he can see it.

The Warrior of Light in all of her glory.

She releases his hair, but he makes no moves to stand back to full height quite yet, still staring at her in muted wonder. She stares back until confusion slowly seeps into her gaze, unsure for why he has remained silent for so long. Silence continues to stretch between them, until her impatience finally gets the better of her. “Are you quite done staring? You are more than welcome to have me come sit in for a portrait if you so wish. I don’t have time to stand here with you gawking at me.”

Eyelids fluttering closed, he releases a single chuckle, standing back to full height as his hand absentmindedly runs across the strands of hair she had abused but moments before. Once he opens his eyes, she gasps, unsure what she sees there, but caring little.

If she had wanted him to leave her alone, there was no way he was doing so now.

“Very well, Warrior of Light.” he hums, stepping from her personal space. Giving her a forceful shove into a dark corner in the alley, not giving her time to complain as he calls out into the night. “Guards!”

He can hear her go stock still behind him, quiet as a mouse as nearby guards rush over to him.

“Lord Zenos!” they exclaim, bowing profusely in his presence. “How may we assist you?”

Glancing down the street, he remembers what direction her friends were heading before speaking once more. “While I am loath to help you bumbling savages...I would rather not have my rest interrupted by you shouting all over the district. While unsure of your targets, I last saw a suspicious group of people head south west of here.” Resting his hand on his sword, he can hear them all audibly swallow. “I would also suggest you be quick about it. I would like the district clear by the time I arrive at the Embassy to rest.”

“O-Of course, my lord!” they hastily bow, rushing down the streets like their lives depended on it. Turning to speak with the Warrior of Light, she stares back at him almost equally mystified, though her skepticism is clear on her face.

“As I had informed you earlier...I must protect my investments.” He grins, lips pulling into a genuine smile that stuns her even further. “Run free, Warrior of Light. Our next meeting may be sooner than you think.”

She shoots him a distrustful glare without hesitation, pushing past him as if he were just another man and not her sole enemy. The change is so refreshing he cannot find it in himself to even think of punishing her for her disrespect. To do so would be counterproductive.

“Oh, my wild, untamed beast…” he purrs to himself as he watches her hurry to her destination, skirts trailing behind her as she disappears into the night. “There is no escaping me now.”

When he returns to the Garlean embassy it is with purpose, his men nearly jumping out their skin at the look in his eye as he begins rattling off orders. His father hasn’t approved any action to march on the savages in Gyr Abania, giving him a copious amount of free time to do as he wished. If his father really did begin to ask after him, he could always feign that he was putting the Doman wench in line; which would not be far from the truth. She had failed him by letting the Warrior of Light reclaim the Ruby Sea, and yet he cannot be too harsh on her.

She had brought him a challenge after all.

When morning comes, he feels a drive he had not felt since he was a boy. A zest for life that was blooming within his chest, barely able to contain the sheer joy he felt. It was not hard to arrange for his entourage to prepare him a vessel to depart for Doma the next morning. Using the information he had gleaned from the Warrior of Light the night prior, he was walking the halls of the dilapidated castle in no time at all.

The Doman woman kneels before him, subservient as the rest. Her hatred had intrigued him before; it was why he had seen fit to ascend her to a position that allowed the subjugation of her own people. But looking in her eyes now, all he can feel is disappointment.

Blue, feline eyes glare back at him in his mind’s eye, and a rush of heat runs through him.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” he questions, not even deigning to stand up. Prostrated before him, he is glad she does not tremble before him at least, but the lack of defiance is rather uninspiring.

“Nay, my lord.” she replies, not even bothering to look at him to give her answer.

Rolling his eyes, he studies her for a moment longer. “Tell me then, in detail just how you failed me. Have you not heard of the Warrior of Light? Is your network so under utilized that you could not quash a rebellion well before it started?”

She flinches under his criticism, and remains kneeling before him. “I had not, my lord.” she answers, throat tight. “She was like a storm; a typhoon, making landfall before you could even do anything about it.” She does rise up to look at him then, most likely in hopes that he will see how sorry she is. “She had rallied the Confederacy so quickly, and I had tried to stop her...but suddenly those Kojin...she had slain a god.”

His eyebrows raise as she sounds almost stupefied, as if trying to make sense of how it all went wrong so fast. “It was as if the fear of the empire no longer mattered. Her and her friends had organized and planned, she had instilled the people with a will that even the empire could not suppress. She is formidable, my lord.” she finishes, and her words make him think.

The conviction he saw within her eyes, a will not easily broken. That even as he stood before her, out of her element, her life in his hands by the prospect of her being in his presence alone…

It was this will that inspired the masses to rebel as he had hoped the Doman woman could do.

Begrudgingly he had to admit that she knew how to inspire the masses. She accomplished in days what the woman couldn’t even accomplish after several moons and imperial forces at her disposal.

It was also clear that between her and her two comrades, she was not the strategist. He would not go as far as to insult her intelligence, but there was no denying that just as his presence evoked fear, hers inspired hope. He doubted she gave speeches, doubted she gave orders. Simply by existing she was an inspiration, a morale booster of the highest caliber.

He can’t stop himself from smirking, even if the action makes the woman before him fear for her life. He envisions those fierce blue eyes again, whispering her name on his lips.

“The Warrior of Light, A’yana Salvia…”

Her name on his lips tastes heavenly.

As much as she warned him to stay away, to threaten his life in the hopes he would take heed to her promises…

It only made him yearn for their battle more. Without trying, his prey had gotten snared in his trap--

And he would not suffer to let it go.

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Thu, May, 13, 2021

April 30/May 13

The Holy Apostle James, Son of Zebedee

     The Holy Apostle James, Son of Zebedee, one of the 12 Apostles, was called by our Lord Jesus Christ for apostolic service together with his brother, the Apostle John the Theologian. It was to them and to the holy Apostle Peter pre-eminently over the other Apostles that Jesus Christ revealed His Divine Mysteries: at the Resuscitation of the Daughter of Jairus, on Mount Tabor (at the Transfiguration), and in the Garden of Gethsemane.      Saint James, after the Descent of the Holy Spirit, preached in Spain and in other lands, and then he returned to Jerusalem. He openly and boldly taught about Jesus Christ as the Saviour of the world, and with the words of Holy Scripture he denounced the Pharisees and the Scribes [scholars], reproaching them with malice of heart and unbelief. The Jews had not the ability to refute the apostolic discourse and for money they hired the pseudo-philosopher and sorcerer Hermogenes, so that he would enter into a disputation with the apostle and confute his arguments about Christ as the Promised Messiah having come into the world. The sorcerer sent to the apostle his student Philip, who was converted to belief in Christ. Then Hermogenes himself became persuaded of the power of God, he burnt his books on magic, accepted holy Baptism and became a true follower of Christ.

     The unbelieving among the Jews persuaded Herod Agrippa (40-44) to arrest the Apostle James and sentence him to death. Saint James calmly heard out the death sentence and continued to bear witness about Christ. One of the false-witnesses against the apostle by the name of Josiah was struck by the courage of Saint James. He came to believe in the truth of the words about the coming of Christ the Messiah. When they led forth the apostle for execution, Josiah fell at his feet, repenting his sin and asking forgiveness. The apostle hugged him, gave him a kiss and said: "Peace and forgiveness be unto thee". Then Josiah confessed before everyone his faith in Christ, and he was beheaded together with Saint James in the year 44 at Jerusalem.

St. Ignatius (Brianchaninov), Bishop of the Caucasus and Stavropol (1867)

  He was born in 1807 into Russian aristocracy — his father was a wealthy provincial gentleman. From a very early age he felt strongly called to monastic life, but at that time it was almost unheard of for a nobleman to take such a path, and Dimitri (as he was called in baptism) entered the Pioneer Military School in St Petersburg. There he distinguished himself, and even attracted the attention of Grand Duke Nicholas Pavlovich, an event which would profoundly affect his later life.    Despite his excellent record at the academy, young Dimitri still longed only for the things of God. In 1827 he graduated from the school and was commissioned as an officer in the army, but soon fell critically ill, and was granted a discharge. This proved to be providential: when he recovered his health, he immediately became a novice, living at several different monasteries and coming under the spiritual care of Starets Leonid, one of the celebrated fathers of the Optina monastery. In 1821 he took his monastic vows and received the name Ignatius. Soon afterwards he was ordained to the priesthood.

  Soon after the newly-professed Fr Ignatius had entered the seclusion that he sought, Tsar Nicholas I — the former Grand Duke Nicholas — visited the Pioneer Military School and asked what had become of the promising cadet he had met a few years before. When the Tsar learned that the former Dimitri was now a monk, he sought him out, had him elevated to the rank of Archimandrite (at age 26!) and made him Superior of the St Sergius Monastery in St Petersburg. Tsar Nicholas instructed him to make the monastery a model fo all Russian religious communities. Though he had desired only a life of solitude and prayer, the new Archimandrite devoted himself conscientiously to fulfilling the Tsar's charge. The monastery did in fact become a kind of standard for Russian monasticism, and its abbot acquired many spiritual children, not only among his monks but among the laity in the capital.

   After twenty-four years as superior of the monastery, St Iganatius was elevated to the episcopate in 1857, first as Bishop of Stavropol, then as Bishop of Kavkaz. Only four years later (aged 54) he resigned and spent the rest of his life in reclusion at the Nicolo-Babaevsky Monastery in the diocese of Kostromo. There he continued the large body of spiritual writings for which he is well known. His printed Works fills five volumes; of these, at least two major works have been translated into English: On the Prayer of Jesus and The Arena: an offering to contemporary monasticism. Both are gems of spiritual writing, profitable to every serious Orthodox Christian.    St Ignatius reposed in peace in 1867. He was glorified in 1988 by the Moscow Patriarchate, during the millennial celebrations in that year. Saints Andrei Rublev, Xenia of Petersburg, Theophan the Recluse and others were glorified in the same observances.

All texts© 1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos.

ICON: Mother of God  “Of the Passion”

 The icon received its name because on either side of the Mother of God are two angels with the implements of the Lord’s suffering: the Cross, the lance, and the sponge.

There was a certain pious woman, Katherine, who began to suffer seizures and madness after her marriage. She ran off into the forest and attempted suicide more than once.

In a moment of clarity she prayed to the Mother of God and vowed that if she were healed, she would enter a monastery. After recovering her health, she only remembered her vow after a long time. Afraid and mentally afflicted, she took to her bed. Three times the Most Holy Theotokos appeared to her, commanding the sick woman to go to Nizhni-Novgorod and to buy Her icon from the iconographer Gregory.

After she had done this, Katherine received healing. From that time on, miracles have occurred from this icon. The Feast day of this icon is on August 13, commemorating its transfer from the village of Palitsa to Moscow in 1641. A church was built at the place where it was met at the Tver gates, and in 1654, the Strastna monastery was built.

The icon is also commemorated on April 30, and on the sixth Sunday after Pascha (the Sunday of the Blind Man) in memory of the miracles which occurred on this day. Other “Passion” icons of the Mother of God have been glorified in the Moscow church of the Conception of Saint Anna, and also in the village of Enkaeva in Tambov diocese.

John 5:24-30

24Most assuredly, I say to you, he who hears My word and believes in Him who sent Me has everlasting life, and shall not come into judgment, but has passed from death into life.25 Most assuredly, I say to you, the hour is coming, and now is, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God; and those who hear will live. 26 For as the Father has life in Himself, so He has granted the Son to have life in Himself,27 and has given Him authority to execute judgment also, because He is the Son of Man. 28 Do not marvel at this; for the hour is coming in which all who are in the graves will hear His voice 29 and come forth-those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of condemnation.30 I can of Myself do nothing. As I hear, I judge; and My judgment is righteous, because I do not seek My own will but the will of the Father who sent Me.

Acts 12:1-11 

1Now about that time Herod the king stretched out his hand to harass some from the church. 2 Then he killed James the brother of John with the sword. 3 And because he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded further to seize Peter also. Now it was during the Days of Unleavened Bread. 4 So when he had arrested him, he put him in prison, and delivered him to four squads of soldiers to keep him, intending to bring him before the people after Passover. 5 Peter was therefore kept in prison, but constant prayer was offered to God for him by the church. 6 And when Herod was about to bring him out, that night Peter was sleeping, bound with two chains between two soldiers; and the guards before the door were keeping the prison. 7 Now behold, an angel of the Lord stood by him, and a light shone in the prison; and he struck Peter on the side and raised him up, saying, "Arise quickly!" And his chains fell off his hands. 8 Then the angel said to him, "Gird yourself and tie on your sandals"; and so he did. And he said to him, "Put on your garment and follow me." 9 So he went out and followed him, and did not know that what was done by the angel was real, but thought he was seeing a vision. 10 When they were past the first and the second guard posts, they came to the iron gate that leads to the city, which opened to them of its own accord; and they went out and went down one street, and immediately the angel departed from him. 11 And when Peter had come to himself, he said, "Now I know for certain that the Lord has sent His angel, and has delivered me from the hand of Herod and from all the expectation of the Jewish people."

[shadowshamrock]

Before You Go

Title: Before You Go Ch. 10

Summary:  Chuck is serious this time about the world ending thanks to his hissy fit with the Winchesters. The Winchesters are not as alone as they thought in their war against god. There’s always been secrets from the Men of Letters that could always be revealed. Someone from Dean’s past always had a connection and they come back to remind him.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16

Words: 2062

Isabel watched Jack and Castiel drive off and she made a phone call to Sheriff Evans. She told him, Jack was arrested, and they could rest again. She went back to the warehouse; she went to one of the crates and pushed away the dust sitting on top. They hadn’t been moved in a while by the look of the dust. She took out her phone, going through her contacts. She stared at her grandmother’s name and wondered if she’d even pick up. She tapped it, the call started and figured it was at least a start.

“A few minutes late, but who’s really timing these things?” Kathryn Monachi always spoke this way. “Which question are we answering today?”

Isabel hated the way her grandmother spoke. She could predict things but with her age it seemed to be diminishing. However, tonight she seemed to know Isabel’s life was going to take a turn, which was the reason she was making the phone call in the first place.

“Hi Kathryn. Nice to hear your voice too. The knife wound is fine, by the way.” She said, the sarcasm dripped from her words. She needed to get to the pony. “First, I need a favor.” She said pausing.

Kathryn gave a small chuckle. “Don’t you always. We cleaned up the Kabaiel’s mess already with Sheriff Evans. Kabaiel’s life was long already, and Jack’s purpose is more important than ours. You’re welcome.” She stated this so nonchalantly; it made Isabel angrier.

Everyone kept mentioning Jack’s purpose and somehow, she was involved. She sat on her motel bed and tried to gain her composure. Everyone who raised her seemed to know what was going on more than she did, and it was annoying. She was starting to realize Dean’s aggravation was legitimate and she could feel her power start to pulse through her.

“Kathryn, what exactly do you see? Apparently, Death is really insistent on my involvement and now you’re suddenly okay with it?” She asked.

She heard Kathryn move on the other side. “I can’t see you as much, only when you’re with the Winchesters. That angel, Castiel you spend a lot of time with him and that changes my sight. I don’t think this is a phone conversation, but to put it bluntly you’re not exactly my granddaughter.” She answered.

Isabel’s head spun. “Excuse me?” She said calmly as possible.

“Kabaiel ironically was the one who brought you to us. Told us officers to train you. Your mother and father wanted children, so they decided to take you. You were an interesting child, always curious, hear a lot more than most telepaths. You were quick, lethal, obedient for the most part, and easy to put through what you had to because the attachment was gone. Kabaiel never told us who your parents were. Just that you were sleeping for ages, and that you were the light out of the darkness.” She told her all of this and the room started spinning.

Isabel parents were killed, she was starting to see a trend. She had the phone away from her ear in order to compose herself. She gained some of her composure again, trying not to feel as though she was meant to be alone.

“So why never tell me, but make damn sure I knew my place?” She asked.

Kathryn let out a sigh on the other end. “Again, my dear, we had orders.” She simply stated.

“Orders for what?” She asked.

“To make sure you left the Winchesters alone. But what good did that do. You and Lucan meeting Dean Winchester all those years ago, the plan was thrown off. Things needed to be… adjusted.” Kathryn finished this sentence as if Isabel should know what was meant.

Isabel was tired of hearing about plans at this point. She took another deep breath, why was everyone so sure the Winchesters would be the ones to take care of everything. It was getting ridiculous, and the boys had suffered enough. She wanted to know more, realizing at this point she may not have the energy to, and she stilled the anger inside her as she felt the drum of power beat through her. “Death greets me like an old friend. I have no parents, and all you can say after that is it’s just orders?” She asked finally.

Kathryn paused on the other line letting out another deep breath. “We tried with you Isabel. We only had what I’ve told you. Your purpose as far as I could tell was to be obedient like the rest of us, but I can say you never did fit in with the rest of us Nephilim.” She added. “Don’t let me keep you; I tried to love you the best I could. You’ve just been different…” her voice showed a hint of sadness. “I know you loved your mother as much as she loved you. Don’t let that change anything. When she took you under her care, she had Anabel and she always took that as a thank you.” Kathryn finished finally and Isabel didn’t know what to say.

A part of her always felt Kathryn blamed her parents death on her even though she couldn’t fully remember what happened. She hadn’t realized she had started crying, tears hitting her lap. She sniffed. “Thank you, Kathryn. I’ve got to go.” She said, wiping her hand on her sleeve.

“Oh, and Isabel, the light and the dark, remember they cannot exist without each other.” Kathryn added. “Take care and I do love you.” She said.

The phone call ended, and Isabel sat in slight disbelief and disappointment. She had learned over the years to never ask questions if you didn’t want to know the answers, but she hadn’t exactly expected that revelation at all. She fell back, laying out herself on the bed. She didn’t know her heritage at all, just that it seemed relevant and insistent on balance. She looked at her tattoo on her arm and raced the letters. How was only 18 hours ago Castiel’s fingers had been there. She smiled softly remembering and happy Castiel had Jack back. She rolled on her side, picking up her phone again. She went to dial Castiel’s number but didn’t feel ready quite yet.

The news she received was heavy and she knew Castiel would try to figure out who her parents were. She had parents, loved them to death, and now her story was just her wandering the world. She felt her purpose was gone. She remembered the voice in her head, it was Jack’s. She wondered why in his capture; Jack reached out to her. She looked at the time, trying to figure out if she could make it back to the bunker. It was already too late to try and get a rental car, and she believed sleep could clear her head at this point. She needed to change out of her bloody clothes, tossed the shirt in the trash, made a mental note to get new one and turned on the shower.

Isabel let the cold water turn to hot, steam filling the bathroom. She rested her naked body against the tile, cool to her skin, and sobbed. It was starting to be too much; mentally exhausted. She finished up her shower, looked down to analyze her wound and she noticed a light scar. She frowned, wondering when she started to heal quickly and wrapped the towel around her. She came out of the bathroom and on her bed was a plastic case and a letter.

These were always yours. The note was in her grandmother’s script. She scowled, a little ticked off someone got into her room while she was showering.

Isabel put her clothes on quickly just in case and sat down on the other bed across from the box. She didn’t know what was in it. She was trained to fight all her life and she wondered if it was some type of weapon. She moved to open it, and her phone rang. She raised an eyebrow, taking it out and not recognizing the number. She hit the answer button and put it up to her ear.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Isabel, hi, it’s me, Jack.” The voice was comforting, and she smiled.

She crossed her legs on the bed and sat. “Let me guess, Castiel gave you my number to check on me?” She asked.

Jack smiled on the other end. “Well, no, but I’m sure when I asked for it, that’s why he gave it to me.” He said. “Are you though, okay, I mean?” He asked.

Something deep down believed she had no reason to lie to him. She let out a long breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “No, not really. A lot happened today.” She said.

Jack sighed. “I’m sorry you died.” He said.

Isabel huffed. “I’m beginning to realize it was calculated. Not that I think it was you… it wasn’t your idea, was it?” She asked.

“No, Billie is very firm about you and me. I have strict orders to lie low so Chuck can’t find me. All I understand is Chuck can’t see you. It confuses him when Sam, Dean, even Castiel interact with you.” He confirmed.

Isabel took this in for a moment with the information she had found out today. “The reason I’ve been told to leave them alone all my life.” She muttered. She stood up and opened the box. She smirked; it was her sais she couldn’t find the day she left all those years ago. She had a feeling Kathryn knew she was leaving and kept them from her on purpose. She ran her fingers on one of the handles, feeling the power of angel magic. She smiled, picking up a blade as Jack spoke.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked.

“I need to ask a big favor, before I tell you this, I have to know you won’t tell Castiel. I plan to myself, I’m just not ready yet. Can you do that?” She asked. She adjusted the blade in her hand, balancing the weight of it in her hand. As she twisted the blade, she noticed a symbol that wasn’t coming to her as she waited for Jack’s answer.

“That’s a big ask.” Jack responded.

“I know; and I know especially since we just met, but something else is telling me to trust you. Can I?” She asked, putting the blade back down in the box.

Jack smiled to himself, feeling the same way. “Yes.” He answered wholeheartedly.

“My family history isn’t what I thought it was. I’m still Nephilim, I just don’t know which family line I come from. My powers apparently aren’t the same as everyone else’s I grew up with.” She told him.

Jack was amazed. “You had a whole family of Nephilim?” He asked.

Isabel forgot Jack was young. “Yes. I’m sorry Jack. Apparently, we’re the only ones left. Well, there’s my grandmother, but she insists she’s not like you where she’s a direct line. I thought I was the same way, but I’m starting to reconfigure that story.” She told him.

“Isabel, you realize that’s not something I can just keep from Cas. He’s like my dad and from what I can gather from how he was on the way home after you stayed behind, you mean a lot to Castiel too.” Jack told her this with full confidence.

Isabel ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah, I know. I just, need some time.” Isabel said.

Jack sighed. “Look, Sam and Dean will be able to help. I hope to see you soon, please.” He added.

Isabel smiled softly, he sounded so hopeful, it was hard to say no despite how resentful she was feeling. “I’m heading back in the morning. Get some rest Jack, good night.” She said.

Jack smiled happily at the phone as he hung up. He knew how happy Castiel felt when she came back and felt that shatter when she pushed him away. He found things so confusing still, however since interacting with Isabel in the Empty, even briefly, he felt a strange bond to her. She was a Nephilim like him, that he felt for sure; with the way Billie talked about her, she was as special as he was, and he wondered a bit why he was picked over her. Billie kept answering with in due time and Jack hoped meeting her would bring answers.

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

20th June >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Mark 4:35-41 for the Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Cycle B: ‘How is it that you have no faith?’.

Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA)

Mark 4:35-41

'Even the wind and the sea obey him'.

With the coming of evening, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Let us cross over to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind they took him, just as he was, in the boat; and there were other boats with him. Then it began to blow a gale and the waves were breaking into the boat so that it was almost swamped. But he was in the stern, his head on the cushion, asleep. They woke him and said to him, ‘Master, do you not care? We are going down!’ And he woke up and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Quiet now! Be calm!’ And the wind dropped, and all was calm again. Then he said to them, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ They were filled with awe and said to one another, ‘Who can this be? Even the wind and the sea obey him.’

Gospel (USA)

Mark 4:35–41

Who is this whom even wind and sea obey?

On that day, as evening drew on, Jesus said to his disciples: “Let us cross to the other side.” Leaving the crowd, they took Jesus with them in the boat just as he was. And other boats were with him. A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Quiet! Be still!” The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” They were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this whom even wind and sea obey?”

Reflections (4)

(i) Twelfth Week in Ordinary Time

I have a childhood memory of my father taking myself and my brothers out for a row in a hired boat in Bray, County Wicklow. I remember my father struggling to turn the boat around to head back to shore because the current was so strong. Myself and my brothers were quite fearful, especially as we could see that our father was showing signs of anxiety himself. Eventually, he turned the boat and we arrived at the shore. That momentary experience of fear and panic lived on in my memory and I can still picture the scene very clearly to this day.

Those who make a living from the sea know the dangers of the sea better than any of us. I would imagine that the kind of sea conditions that would terrify me would leave them reasonably calm because they are used to sailing in all kinds of weathers. Many of Jesus’ first disciples earned their living from fishing in the Sea of Galilee. The inland Sea or Lake of Galilee is about 200 metres below sea level. The hills around it reach to a height of about 600 metres above sea level. On the hills, the air is cool and dry. However, at the level of the lake the climate is semi-tropical and the air is warm and moist. The large difference in height between the hills and the lake causes large temperature and pressure changes and this in turn generates strong winds which funnel through the hills and drop onto the lake, with violent results. Because the lake is quite shallow, the winds can whip up waves of two metres or more. This is the kind of storm that hits the boats in today’s gospel reading. Even though some of those in the boat would have been fishermen who knew the sea very well, they were terrified. Their panic is palpable in their way of addressing Jesus, ‘Master, do you not care? We are going down’. Jesus had been asleep in the stern of the boat on a cushion, perhaps exhausted after his day’s work. In the Jewish Scriptures, when the people of Israel thought that God had abandoned them in their need, they often spoke of God as asleep.

If we are in a dire situation and someone to whom we had looked for support falls asleep in front of us we could easily conclude that he or she has abandoned us. That was the experience of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. He had asked his disciples to stay awake in this agonizing hour, but they fell asleep. Jesus felt abandoned by his disciples at a time when he needed them most. In today’s gospel reading, it is Jesus who is asleep in the storm and it is his disciples who feel abandoned by him. Yet, Jesus had not abandoned them. He may have been physically asleep, but he was spiritually alert. He was present to them in the boat as the storm howled. His being physically asleep in the storm reveals not his lack of concern for his disciples but his complete trust in God’s sustaining care. His sense of calm stands over against the panic of his disciples; his trusting faith in God stands over against their fear. In the gospels the opposite of faith is often not doubt but fear, as is clear from Jesus’ question to his disciples, after he had calmed the storm, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ Jesus’ disciples had rebuked him for his lack of concern, a rebuke that was wide of the mark. Jesus rebukes his disciples for their lack of trusting faith in himself and in God, a rebuke that was completely justified. The sleep of Jesus and the panic of the disciples portray two contrasting ways of being in a storm. As the storm raged, Jesus had a still centre, which was rooted in his trusting relationship with God his Father whom he knew loved him unconditionally. In contrast, the storm that raged around the disciples was an image of the storm that was raging within them. The storm without can seem threatening, but the deeper threat is the loss of faith and courage.

The first believers understood the boat carrying Jesus and the disciples as an image of the church. They knew that as a community of disciples, and as individual disciples, they often had to navigate stormy waters. They came to recognize that the risen Lord was with them in the storms that left them feeling so vulnerable. He was with them, even when it seemed as if he was asleep and uncaring. The gospel reading invites us to renew our trusting faith in the Lord’s sustaining presence in those times when we feel assailed in some way. Even when we sense that we have no control over what is happening to us, ‘the love of Christ overwhelms us’ in the words of today’s second reading. Even as the storm is raging, our sense that the Lord is with us and is bringing us to a new shore, can calm the storm within, leaving us more like Jesus in the boat than the disciples. The gospel reading assures us that the Lord is stronger than our deepest fears and is more powerful than the forces that threaten to overwhelm us.

And/Or

(ii) Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 In these Summer months many people head to the beach and swim in the sea. Some might be members of sailing clubs and will make the most of these days when the sea tends to be quieter. Ferries that sail across seas are less likely to be cancelled these months for reasons of bad weather. Yet, we know that the sea can be treacherous and can claim lives at any time of the year. Those who know the sea have learned to treat it with respect, whatever the season.

 The Sea of Galilee which features in today’s gospel reading is more a very large lake than a sea. Yet, because it is below sea level and surrounded by hills and valleys, winds can blow down the valleys and whip up those waters without much prior notice. Some of the disciples that were in the boat with Jesus were fishermen. They knew the lake well. When a storm broke on the lake, however, they were understandably filled with fear. Something of their panic is captured in the words they address to Jesus, ‘Master, do you not care? We are going down’. The panic of the disciples stands in sharp contrast to the attitude of Jesus – ‘in the stern, his head on a cushion, asleep’. The panic of the disciples revealed their anxiety that the chaos of the storm would overwhelm them; the sleep of Jesus indicated his deep conviction that all would be well. Different people can react to crises in different ways. Some remain calm and others go to pieces. In a crisis we need at least some people to remain calm and to have a calming influence on everybody else.

 Mark’s gospel was probably written to the church in Rome about the year 70. This was a church that had gone through very stormy times. It had experienced the trauma of Nero’s persecution, and, in the process, had lost many of its key leaders, such as Peter and Paul. Here was a deeply traumatized community which felt very insecure in a society that could unexpectedly and violently turn against them. As the members of the church tried to come to terms with their bruising experience, some of them may have been wondering, ‘Where is the risen Lord in all of this?’ Has he abandoned us? Is he asleep to what is happening to us? In including this incident in his gospel, Mark was trying to assure them that this was not the case. As Jesus was in the boat with the disciples when the storm broke, he is now with the church in its ordeal. The implication in the disciples question, ‘Master, do you not care?’ is unfounded. The risen Lord does care. The question the Lord put to those disciples was being put to the church of Mark’s day, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ The members of the church in Rome are being asked to put their faith in the Lord in the midst of the storm and to trust that the Lord is stronger than the storm. In the words of today’s first reading from the book of Job, they are to trust that the Lord has the power to say to the storm, ‘Come thus far and no farther: here your proud waves shall break’. The disciples of Mark’s own day are being invited to reflect on the question of the disciples in the boat, ‘Who can this be?’ and to give the answer, ‘Jesus is the one who brings order out of chaos, life out of death’.

 This is also the answer that we, the church today, are being asked to give to this question. We may not have to contend with a Nero, at least not in most parts of the world, but no one can deny that the church has been through some stormy times, with some of the storms of the church’s own making. Recent years have been a disheartening time for many believers. In Western Europe at least, the church appears to be in a period of decline. The waves of secularism and materialism threaten to sink the church, which has often been understood as the ship of Peter. Such storms can have their own cathartic effect on the church; they can work to the church’s good. The disciples in today’s gospel reading undoubtedly learned something important from their traumatic experience on the Sea of Galilee. The storm made them question more deeply, ‘Who then is this?’ The church has had to grapple with many painful questions in recent times. A weakened, vulnerable church can come to recognize in a new way its total dependence on the Lord. When all is not well, we learn to seek the Lord with greater passion, like the disciples in the boat, rather than presuming that we already know him. Difficult and painful times can deepen the church’s relationship with the Lord.

 In today’s second reading, St. Paul reflects on the relationship between the Lord and the church. He declares that Christ died for all so that we might live no longer for ourselves but for him. He died for all so that we might live for him. We who are the church do not live for ourselves, but for the Lord. The church exists to serve the Lord, not itself. The storms through which the church passes can help it to re-appropriate this fundamental truth.

 We all need something to live for. As baptized members of the church, we do not live for something so much as for someone. In all we say and do, we try to serve the Lord rather than ourselves, to promote his cause, his purpose, rather than our own. This is our goal in life, what today’s gospel reading refers to as ‘the other side’ of the lake that we are always striving to reach.

And/Or

(iii) Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 We are fortunate to be so close to the sea here in Clontarf. In good weather it is lovely to live near the sea, especially when we have such a lovely promenade. Last month I was involved in a blessing of boats ceremony organized by Clontarf boat and yacht club. It was my first time in the premises of that club and it brought home to me how many people, including young people, from the Clontarf area are involved in sailing and boating. We are fortunate to have a relatively sheltered stretch of water between the promenade and the open sea where people can sail reasonably safely. It is a wonderful amenity. Let’s hope it is left to the people of the area and to the people of Dublin well into the future. Yet, for all the attractiveness of the sea, we know too that the sea can be treacherous. Even our sheltered stretch of water can sometimes look quite choppy, never mind the open sea beyond the lighthouse. Those who spend time on the sea learn to treat it with respect, because they know it can be a destructive force as well as a benign one.

 The Sea of Galilee was a very large inland lake more than a sea, yet, like a sea, it could turn very nasty due to winds suddenly blowing down onto it from the surrounding hills. Something of the fear that a storm at sea can evoke is very well captured in the way that the disciples address Jesus, ‘Master, do you not care? We are going down!’ They could have been forgiven for thinking that Jesus did not care because, according to the gospel reading, he was asleep as the storm raged. There is a striking contrast between the relaxed demeanour of Jesus in the storm and the great agitation of the disciples. Jesus was clearly coping with the storm better than they were. Having been rebuked by his disciples, Jesus goes on to rebuke them, ‘Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith?’ They had been with Jesus for some time and had witnessed God powerfully at work in and through him. That experience should have been enough to reassure them that, in spite of the raging storm, all would be well, because Jesus was with them. He had said to them at the beginning of their journey, ‘let us cross over to the other side’. They should have trusted that, with Jesus with them, they would make it to the other side, in spite of the storm they were encountering.

 The church in Ireland has been going through some very stormy waters in recent times. Unlike the storm in the gospel reading, the storms the church has been battling are, to some extent, of its own making. Perhaps, in the midst of these storms some of us may have been tempted to cry out with the disciples in the boat, ‘we are going down’. We may be asking, like those disciples, where is the Lord in all of this? Like them, we may find ourselves fearful and loosing faith as the church lurches from side to side in the stormy waters. One of the messages of this morning’s gospel reading is that the Lord remains with the church in the storm. The Lord is present to his fearful and faithless disciples. He may rebuke us as he rebuked those disciples in the boat. However, his presence to us in the storm is not just a rebuking presence. It is ultimately a creative and life-giving presence. In the gospel reading, the Lord brought calm out of the chaos; he tamed the storm and saw to it that the boat reached the other side. The Lord remains stronger than the storms that threaten the church, whether those storms are self-inflicted or brought on by others or a combination of both. The Lord works to bring the church through the storm to a new place where, as in the gospel reading, fear gives way to awe and the rebuking question, ‘Master, do you not care?’ gives way to the amazed question, ‘Who can this be? Even the winds and sea obey him’. This conviction that the Lord of the church is stronger than the storm that threatens does not leave us complacent. Yet, it keeps us hopeful and faithful, even when so much seems under threat. Today’s responsorial psalm assures us that if we cry to the Lord in our need he will rescue us from our distress. Our need and distress can open us up more fully to the Lord’s life-giving presence among us.

 Saint Paul makes a wonderful statement at the beginning of that second reading, ‘the love of Christ overwhelms us’. Another translation would be ‘the love of Christ urges us on’. The love of Christ for us was revealed above all in his death on the cross. As Paul says in his letter to the Romans, ‘God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us’. It is that remarkable love of God in Christ for us that urges us on, even when we are battling against a headwind. It urges us on until we reach what the gospel reading calls ‘the other side’, the place towards which the Lord is guiding the church - the place where he wants us all to be.

And/Or

(iv) Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary Time

 We are fortunate to be so close to the sea here in Clontarf. In good weather it is lovely to live near the sea, especially when we have such a lovely promenade. Last month I was involved in a blessing of boats ceremony organized by Clontarf boat and yacht club. It was my first time in the premises of that club and it brought home to me how many people, including young people, from the Clontarf area are involved in sailing and boating. We are fortunate to have a relatively sheltered stretch of water between the promenade and the open sea where people can sail reasonably safely. It is a wonderful amenity. Let’s hope it is left to the people of the area and to the people of Dublin well into the future. Yet, for all the attractiveness of the sea, we know too that the sea can be treacherous. Even our sheltered stretch of water can sometimes look quite choppy, never mind the open sea beyond the lighthouse. Those who spend time on the sea learn to treat it with respect, because they know it can be a destructive force as well as a benign one.

 The Sea of Galilee which features in today’s gospel reading is more a very large lake than a sea. Yet, because it is below sea level and surrounded by hills and valleys, winds can blow down the valleys and whip up the waters without much prior notice. Some of the disciples that were in the boat with Jesus were fishermen. They knew the lake well. When a storm broke on the lake, however, they were understandably filled with fear. Something of their panic is captured in the words they address to Jesus, ‘Master, do you not care? We are going down’. The panic of the disciples stands in sharp contrast to the attitude of Jesus – ‘in the stern, his head on a cushion, asleep’. The panic of the disciples revealed their anxiety that the chaos of the storm would overwhelm them; the sleep of Jesus indicated his deep conviction that all would be well. Different people can react to crises in different ways. Some remain calm and others go to pieces. In a crisis we need at least some people to remain calm and to have a calming influence on everybody else.

 Mark’s gospel was probably written to the church in Rome about the year 70. This was a church that had gone through very stormy times. It had experienced the trauma of Nero’s persecution, and, in the process, had lost many of its key leaders, such as Peter and Paul. As the members of the church tried to come to terms with their bruising experience, some of them may have been wondering, ‘Where is the risen Lord in all of this? Has he abandoned us? Is he asleep to what is happening to us?’ In including this incident in his gospel, Mark was trying to assure his church that as Jesus was in the boat with the disciples when the storm broke, he was now with the church in its ordeal. The members of the church in Rome were being asked to put their faith in the Lord in the midst of the storm and to trust that the Lord is stronger than the storm. The disciples of Mark’s own day were being invited to reflect on the question of the disciples in the boat, ‘Who can this be?’ and then, in the light of the gospel reading, to give the answer, ‘Jesus is the one who brings order out of chaos, life out of death’.

 This is also the answer that we, the church today, are being asked to give to this question. We may not have to contend with a Nero, at least not in most parts of the world, but no one can deny that the church has been through very stormy times, with some of the storms of the church’s own making. Recent decades have been a disheartening time for many believers. In Western Europe at least, the church appears to be in a period of decline. The waves of secularism and materialism threaten to sink the church, which has often been understood as the ship of Peter. Such storms, however, can have their own cathartic effect on the church; they can work to renew and purify the church. The disciples in today’s gospel reading undoubtedly learned something important from their traumatic experience with the storm on the Sea of Galilee. The storm made them question more deeply, ‘Who then is this?’ Stormy times can help us all to question more deeply and, in the process, to recover some basics. A weakened, vulnerable church can come to recognize in a new way its total dependence on the Lord. When all is not well, we often seek the Lord with greater passion, like the disciples in the boat, rather than presuming that we already know him. In that way, difficult and painful times can deepen the church’s relationship with the Lord.

 In today’s second reading, St. Paul reflects on the relationship between the Lord and the church. He declares that Christ died for all, so that we might live no longer for ourselves but for him. He died for all so that we who believe might live for him. We who are the church do not live for ourselves, but for the Lord. The church exists to serve the Lord, not to serve itself. The storms through which the church passes can help it to re-appropriate this fundamental truth.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

[ofbeastsandwizards]

Cinderella - Sherlock x Reader

The First installment of my Happily Ever Never Oneshot Collection!  Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Reader

Summary: Living in the sucluded, poor and rundown area of London, the young peasant girl never thought she’d meet the prince, the heir to the throne, of England. Nor did she think she’d meet his less popular, detective brother. And even more so, she’d never expect falling head-over-glass slipper for him either.

Warnings: fluff, lotsa angst, a bit of swearing. It’s also hella long so there’s that lol

Enjoy!

————

Her name was [Y/n]. The young girl lived with her stepmother and her daughter in her father’s old home on the edge of London. It was run down, but beautiful none the less. She would have had money. Would have been respected, if her late father hadn’t married the skunk that was sat on the living room armchair. [Y/n] was scrubbing relentlessly at the tiled floors, her clothing old and torn. She wouldn’t have minded working. She really wouldn’t have. If she was getting paid, or even working for somebody even a smidgeon less greedy than her current ‘employer’, who thought nothing more of her than a slave.

Sometimes that’s what [Y/n] felt she was to her. Nothing but a slave. It was sad sometimes, but she tried her best to maintain her composure.

Today, however, her stepmother’s daughter, Anna, had received an invitation from the royal family. As her father had been a once wealthy duke, the entire family was requested to attend, despite him no longer being alive.

Anna screeched giddily when [Y/n] had handed over the envelope. They hardly ever got mail. It was almost always over the internet nowadays, not that they could afford to even own a laptop or computer.

Her stepmother was stuck in the past anyways.

[Y/n] stood patiently until Anna’s ear-piercing screams were silenced. She bounded towards her mother. “Mum! Mum look! We’ve been invited to the royal ball!” She exclaimed.

Her mother examined the paper and grinned slyly. “Well! I suppose we’ll have to find you a beautiful gown now won’t we?”

[Y/n] frowned. She knew it wasn’t her place, but surely, she’d get to go? “What about me?” She asked quietly.

Anna’s screeches were silenced at her words and her stepmother sent her a deadly stare. “Did I say you could talk, brat?” She hissed.

[Y/n] began to boil and she bit her lip, staring at the ground, to keep from an angry outburst. “N-No, ma’am.” She mumbled.

She huffed, and stood from her seat brushing past the young girl. “Besides! I wouldn’t want you there anyways! Ruining my image! Are you insane?” She laughs.

The girl shook her head once more. “N-No...not at all ma’am.”

She scoffs. “Well you act it sometimes! Get ahold of yourself girl!” She tuts, hitting her shoulder harshly as she waltzes out of the room. She turns. “So, you are not going! You need to finish your chores! And I will not have a filthy girl like you be standing with me at the Royal Ball!” She exclaimed, exiting the room with Anna in tow, a small frown of pity on her face.

[Y/n] was left standing there, like a time-bomb, ready to explode into a million, fuming pieces. She turned and stomped her way up the steps to her attic room, and closed the door in anger, locking it.

She threw herself onto her bed and screamed into a pillow.

I’m tired of being treated like shit! I’m not some piece of worthless trash!

Then, she began to break down into tears, turning over, as she choked on silent sobs.

Am I?

She shook her head, lip quivering.  Then suddenly, a knock on her door interrupted her self-loathing time. She sat up, and wiped her nose of her stained sleeve.

“What do you want?” She yelled. She realized she shouldn’t have sounded so harsh, as it may have been her stepmother and she braced for impact.

“[Y/n]. It’s Anna.”

She practically snarled at her pity-filled voice.

“Go away!” She hissed.

Anna frowned from the other side of the door. Despite being the child of that evil woman downstairs, she wasn’t all bad. Yes, she was greedy and selfish, but she also easily felt pity for those around her and ‘wanted to help the needy’.

“[Y/n] I’m sorry for what my mother told you. I convinced her to let you come with.” She murmured from behind the door. “The ball is tomorrow night.”

[Y/n] was silent then. She had never been that nice to her despite how nice she seemed at the moment.

“Oh.” “Make sure you actually wear something presentable.” She snarked, before her footsteps faded down the steps. [Y/n]’s frown deepened, and she held up her middle finger towards the door, sticking out her tongue childishly.

She frowned and lowered her hand, collapsing backwards onto her bed, sleep overtaking her.

———— time skip ————

It was morning now, and [Y/n] had woken up late, much to her stepmother’s distaste, who had a full day of shopping planned for Anna whilst [Y/n] was to clean the entire house to receive her ‘‘reward” of attending the ball.

[Y/n] had just finished doing her chores, and it was about 4 o’clock now. She had a few hours to spare, and so she took it upon herself to break out the only nice dress she owned. An heirloom from her mother, which was a beautiful baby blue gown, but the problem was, it was ripped and torn, and had blood stained onto the fabric.

[Y/n] wasn’t sure what the blood itself was from, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. Her mother’s past was all a blur to her. She was a beautiful woman, yes, but her father told stories of her adventures and how ‘badass she was when he met her’. She chuckled to herself, but grimaced at the sight of the blood once more.

“I can’t possibly wear that.” She grumbled, and tossed it onto her bed. She skimmed through her closet of bland sweatshirts, t-shirts, bandanas and jeans and frowned when she couldn’t find anything.

“Well this just sucks arse.” She bit her lip and stared at the gown laid out on her bed. The sleeve was ripped, and so it no longer laid upright but hung down. The tulle on the skirt was ripped and frayed, and there was a blood stain near the lower hemline, which could easily be concealed, but there was also a rather obvious stain on the chest area, about the size of her head, which colored the blue a wine red.

The idea of wine crossed her mind for a moment, and an idea struck her. She bundled the dress in her arms and raced from her room and down the stairs. She made her way outside and out the separate door and into the wine cellar below her house. She fumbled with the door, before it creaked open and she slipped inside.

The room was dark, and she could barely make out the forms of large barrels and bottles stacked throughout the room.

She reached to her left and flicked on a light, stumbling down the stairway and towards a large bottle of red wine, which matched the color of the blood stained onto her dress. She grinned and cradled it in her arms, stumbling back up the stairs and out into the courtyard, crossing back towards her house and making a b-line for her bedroom.

Once upstairs, she got to work. She located the area of the tulle that was ripped and slit it upwards on the skit, creating a leg slit that looked as through it was supposed to be there all along. She decided she’d hem the slit, and she got to work on the sleeves. She fixed their rosed covered fabric and stitched the sleeve back onto the body of it, re-adjusting it so it went off the shoulder. She stood back. Apart from the blood, it looked like it was supposed to be that way.

Then, she dumped all of the wine into a large bucket and dropped the dress into it. She would let it soak for half an hour and let it dry for another.

Once the first process finished, she dug around for the old clothespin that was buried somewhere in her room and strung it in front of the single window inside her bedroom. She brought the dripping gown up to it and clipped it on.

It sagged, having been still soaked in wine. [Y/n] held her nose at the strong scent of alcohol. She never was an alcohol fan. She suspected she never would be, as she’d rather keep her dignity.

She moved back towards her bed, but tripped on a scrapbook peeking out form under her bed frame.

“Ah!” She shrieked, falling forward and landing on the bed. She grumbled, sitting back up. She leaned over the bed and picked it up, examining the cover.

Her eyes softened as she read the front cover. In words written in glittery writing was the title; “[Y/n]’s Wedding Scrapbook!”

It was everything that she wanted her wedding to be like. She would wear a beautiful off-white gown, complete in a [favorite wedding dress style] style, and a beautiful flowing, floor length train. Everything was perfectly planned out.

Her hand turned a page and she saw her and her mother and father, sitting in the grass, having a picnic. It was an old Polaroid picture.

She remembered the most important thing about her wedding.

She’d have her father walking her down the isle, a proud smile on his face as she approached her soon-to-be significant other. She bit her lip, closing her eyes and tears piled up and out of her eyes, stinging her cheek.

Her lip quivered and she choked a bit, shaking her head and slamming the book closed. She slid it back under her bed, and laid her head back down on her pillow.

She waited for the dress to dry completely, but she grew too impatient, and she didn’t want her stepmother and Anna to see her fixing up the dress. So, in a rush, she collected the damp dress, holding it out in front of her to preserve her clothes best she could.

She reached the laundry room, and put it inside of the dryer, turning it on and waiting as it dried the dress. She hoped it wouldn’t shrink or rip, and took care to put the setting to ‘gentle’.

After the 10 minutes had passed, she took the dress from the dryer and examined it. All looked well and she grinned.

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by the sound of the front door opening. She gasped and went as fast as she could straight to her room, just as they stepped inside, her stepmother and Anna talking rather loudly from downstairs.

She pushed her door closed in a swift motion and it made a dull click. Then she heard her stepmother yell from downstairs.

“You’d better have something nice to wear to the ball or you’ll be staying here!” She screeched from downstairs. [Y/n] smirked to herself and rolled her eyes.

“You wanted nice. Let’s see your face when you see my gown then.” [Y/n] snickered to herself as she sat on her bed, facing the window. Her dress was still bundled in her arms as she giggled at Anna’s muffled attempts to put on her gown from just below her in her room.

[Y/n] decided she should get ready, and so she changed out of her stained clothing and pulled the dress over her body. It was a bit snug on her, but she didn’t mind. She approached the mirror in her bedroom and admired her reflection. The dress was beautiful, and wasn’t too revealing which pleased [Y/n], as she didn’t really like low-cut dresses, but the fit was close to perfect. She grinned but then her eyes met her hair.

It was a mess of tangled strands, dangling [above/below/at] her shoulders. She grumbled and ran a comb through it, until it looked presentable, wincing the entire time. 

After her hair was mostly presentable, she looked herself over once more, and stretched her arm to the jewelry box sitting on the small indent of wall above her mirror. She clicked open the latch, and opened the lid.

Inside was a silver chain necklace with a beautiful silver locket, shaped in an intricate story-book like design. The book opened to reveal a tiny picture of her father and mother, back when they were young and carefree. She smiled warmly at the photo, and clicked the locket shut.

She swung the chain around her neck and struggled momentarily before managing to connect the other end. She nodded firmly to herself once giving herself another once-over.

Then, as if on cue, there was a knock on her door.

“Hey! You’d better be ready!” Anna exclaimed. [Y/n] bit her lip and snatched her trench coat from her bedpost, and buttoned the long jacket over her dress in an effort to cover it as best as possible.

She rushed towards her door and opened it, Anna had a scowl on her face and turned when she walked out her door. She turned and closed it and they made their way downstairs. Anna was clad in a turquoise gown, which was overly poofy, and resembled that of a pageant gown rather than a ball gown.

[Y/n] stuck out her tongue at her sense of style and rolled her eyes as they went outside to get inside of the pickup truck that her stepmother owned. She was already in the drivers seat, and [Y/n] squeezed her way into the crowded and dirty backseat.

Good thing I’m wearing a coat.

———— time skip ————

“Alright.” Her stepmother stopped the truck down the street from the palace. “I have some rules. You-” She waved a finger at [Y/n]. “Stay 20 feet away from us at all times.” She stated.  “And don’t even think about talking to my prince!” Exclaimed Anna.

[Y/n] rolled her eyes. “Fine. I won’t.”

“Oh! And don’t you dare go near the ballroom. You are not to dance with the prince or any duke! Have at it with the waiters though, they’re all worthless blokes.” Her stepmother stated.

[Y/n] sighed and nodded. Her stepmother looked pleased, and they all exited the car. The mother and daughter darted straight down the street and towards the palace, leaving [Y/n] to scoff and follow after them, digging around for that letter to gain entrance.

Once they reached the gate, the guard looked over the paper and nodded, letting them inside. Her stepmother and Anna went straight inside and [Y/n] lingered behind, climbing the steps.

She entered, and pulled off her coat, handing it to one of the men collecting them, and took a deep breath. She listened to the distant music and laughing people down the hall. She strayed a bit away from the crowd and stayed on the outskirts of the ballroom. A man carrying a tray with glasses of water passed her. She gracefully picked one up and took a sip, thanking the man.

She then spotted somebody much like her, staying near the outskirts and leaning against a marble post. She approached him and leaned on the next post over, sipping her water.

They both stood in silence, before she looked towards him, examining him. He had brown- almost black, curly hair, and a defined face. He was wearing a suit, which was fairly casual for this style of party, yet still very formal.

His eyes were scanning the crowds of dancing couples, solemnly watching them dance. Then, his eyes landed on [Y/n].

She sucked in a breath and turned away, choosing not to talk to the man. Then, he broke the silence.

“I’m guessing you’re not a fan of party’s then either.” He stated. The music blared dimly in the background.  [Y/n] sighed. “No, not really. You aren’t then?” She asked.

The man shook his head, eyes still watching the crowds. “No. My brother’s always forcing me into them.” He stated.

[Y/n] chuckled and followed the man’s gaze. “I’m sure he means the best. He can’t be any worse than my stepsister.” She stated.

The man was silent. [Y/n] turned and leaned towards him, her hand extended. “I’m uh, I’m [Y/n].”

He eyed her hand and looked back up, ignoring her gesture. “Sherlock Holmes.”

[Y/n] stiffened at the name. That detective prince guy? She cleared her throat, and leaned back, returning to her place, bringing her water up to her lips once more.

They stood like that for a while, before Sherlock made a sudden movement towards her, which startled [Y/n] half out of her mind.

“You haven’t left yet.” He observed. [Y/n] froze and gave him a cheeky smile. “Why haven’t you left yet?” He asked, a bit more concerned this time.

[Y/n] furrowed her brows. “You haven’t given me a reason to leave yet.” She stated, rather confused.

Sherlock studied her face and leaned back a bit, still examining her.

[Y/n] stood her ground under his harsh gaze before his eyes softened a bit. “Well, usually when people hear my name, they go running.” He stated.

[Y/n] shook her head. “It takes a little more than a name to scare me, Mr. Holmes.” She smiled, and Sherlock narrowed his eyes in contemplation. He then looked away.

“You’re very different from the girls that usually attend these types of things.” He said.

[Y/n] smiled crookedly. “Is that good or bad?” She asked, crossing her arms, whilst still holding the glass in her left hand.

Sherlock didn’t answer for a moment, before glancing back towards the ballroom, and looking back at [Y/n] with an intrigued smile.

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure of himself.  [Y/n] smiled, and nodded. “I’d love to.”

Sherlock let himself smile a bit wider, and [Y/n] stopped leaning on the wall, and placed her glass on a nearby table-top. The pair made their way to the ballroom dance-floor and stood near the center.

[Y/n] placed her hand on Sherlock’s arm, and her other connected with Sherlock’s. Sherlock hesitantly placed his other hand on her waist and they began to sweep across the floor gracefully. [Y/n] refused to meet his gaze, and instead decided to talk a bit to lighten the mood.

“So.” She started, her eyes barely flickering to his. “I take it you know how to dance then?”  Sherlock turned to meet her eyes. “Yes, I learned when I was fairly young. And what about you?”

[Y/n] stifled a laugh and took a deep breath. “My father taught me when I was five.”

Sherlock nodded. “You had to have come here with somebody.” Sherlock mumbled, which seemed more of like a comment to himself rather than to [Y/n]. But the young woman caught his words almost immediately.

She smiled. “If you mean being left alone by my evil stepmother and stepsister, then you’d right.” 

Sherlock hummed, and his gaze scanned the crowd. His eyes then widened as they met something in the distance. “Get down!” He yelled a bit loudly, pushing [Y/n] onto the ground as he crouched low to the ground as well.

Gunshots echoed through the hall, the crowd erupting in screams, people ran like wild and a few bodies were scattered along the floor. “Dammit!” Sherlock hissed.

‘‘What the hell?” [Y/n] was growing anxious and her body began to shake. She sucked in deep breathes and looked around at the screaming people.  Sherlock turned. He now has a gun in his hand. It was pointed to the floor and [Y/n] eyed it suspiciously, before meeting his gaze as he spoke. “Listen to me. You need to get somewhere safe, and stay low to the ground.” He began to stand up, but [Y/n] grabbed at his coat tails hurriedly.

“No!” She stumbled on her words for a moment. “I-I’m not running away. I’m not hiding. I’ve been doing that all my life. I’m coming with you.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked her over, the screams growing louder. He groaned in annoyance but held out his hand for her to take. She offered a bittersweet smile, and took it.

Sherlock pulled her up, and the pair scurried into the hallway where they had previously been standing. [Y/n] picked up her glass from before, and smashed it against the marble posts, creating a fairly large and sharp piece of glass. Sherlock eyed her, and she shrugged, a smirk on her face.

He turned back around and held his gun in front of him, slowly making his way towards where the person was shooting from the staircase. [Y/n] held her shank in front of her, following in Sherlock’s steps as they made their way closer.

Sherlock cued her to go on the opposite side of the staircase and wait for him to give her the signal, (which was Sherlock firing his gun), and the young woman obeyed. Sherlock approached the man, who was clad in a trench coat and had a balding head.

Sherlock stood near him, and the man ceased his firing, the screams still filling the room from below. “Hey!”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Come to stop me Shirley?” He growled, pointing his gun at Sherlock. Sherlock shrugged. 

“Not really.” Then, Sherlock pointed his gun to the ceiling, and fired.

The man let out a sickening laugh.

“You missed.” He snarled, a hideous smirk on his face.

“You’re right, I did.” Sherlock lowered his gun. ‘‘But she didn’t.” Just then, [Y/n] stabbed the glass into his back and the man gasped, falling backwards. [Y/n] stopped back and watched as he fell to the ground, gasping for breath eyes staring up at [Y/n] as Sherlock approached and looked down at him.

The glass dug deeper into the man’s back and he narrowed his eyes. [Y/n] dusted off her hands, which were now stained with blood, and joined Sherlock’s side.

“I hate you.” The man spat, blood pooling from under him. [Y/n] frowned, and hummed.

Sherlock put away his gun and pushed his hands into his pockets. [Y/n] looked to him. “What now?” She asked.

Sherlock looked her over at her, then looked towards the door. ““We should probably leave.”

[Y/n] laughed and nodded. “Good idea.” She smiled, and the duo made their way to the palace gates.

Once outside the large doors, they stopped in the garden. “We never did finish that dance, did we?” Asked [Y/n]. Sherlock looked down at her and smiled a bit.

“No, I suppose not.”  “So....?”

Sherlock took [Y/n]’s hand and they began to dance again. The night was peaceful despite the commotion from inside. They danced in silence for quite a while, until they tired, and stopped dancing to walk about the garden. 

“Y’know, I never thought something like this would happen to me.”

Sherlock glanced down at her as they walked. “What? Killing a murderer?”

[Y/n] snorted and looked away. “Well that, and-” She motioned is between herself and Sherlock. “This.”

Sherlock looked at her in confusion. They stopped walking.

“You’re a prince. I’m nothing but a common girl living in London.”

Sherlock looked a bit offended. “Like that should matter?” He asked.

“Well it usually matters to most people. I’ve never even danced with anybody but my own father. I never thought I’d even go near the palace. And yet here we are.”

“Exactly. Why does your social rank have to have anything to do with if you can meet new people, or dance with them?”

[Y/n] looked away. “I was raised by my stepmother to think that way, I guess.”

“Well you shouldn’t have to think that way.” He reasoned.  [Y/n] smiled a bit. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They stood in silence for a while, continuing their walk. “Hey, Sherlock?” She asked.

Sherlock hummed. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He asked.

[Y/n] smiled. “For tonight, for the dance, for everything.”

Sherlock returned the smile, and [Y/n] leaned over to hug him. Sherlock froze and stood still while she clung to him. He rolled his eyes and slowly, hesitantly wrapped his arms around her form.  “You’re welcome.”

Woahhhhh that was fun to write! :O 

I don’t know! What did you guys think? Anyways! Let me know if I missed you on the tag list! I lost a few of the asks so maybe resend them if you get the chance! Thanks! :>

Comment to be added to the tag list!  Happily Ever Never Tag List:

@timeladygallifrey @romeo-the-cactus @ewitsceleste @sammistout @starsinthepavement @solariiium @germansarechill @water13girl

[janetbrown711]

“hold my hand.” Hazel and Loucy

Hazel woke up in a cold, dark cell with her little cousin Lucy curled up on her. It took her a moment to take in the scene before she realized that they definitely weren’t at Uncle Louie’s house, but it didn’t take long to remember what had happened. 

She shuddered at the memory. 

She took another moment to take in the scene before her. The cell was dark, damp, and dirty. There wasn’t any furniture and she quickly noticed she and Lucy were wearing tracking anklets to ensure they wouldn’t escape. Great. 

“Finally awake I see,” A familiar female voice spoke from the dark. “Well... at least one of you. I’d suggest waking the little one if I were you. She’ll need to hear this.” Hazel didn’t trust the woman, but she didn’t feel as though she had a choice. She nudged Lucy awake. 

“H-hazel?” she rubbed her eyes. “Where’re we?” she blinked. 

“As if I’d say that,” The woman spoke. This caused Lucy to shrink back. 

“Who is she?” she asked Hazel. 

“Your father knows me very well Lucilia, though I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t told you out of all of them about me,” The woman chuckled darkly. It made Hazel shudder again. 

“What do you want from us?” Hazel asked. 

“From you? Hmm... I suppose not much. It’s your parents that have our interest,” She said. 

“Why does uncle Louie know you?” Hazel interrogated. 

“So many questions,” She woman brushed it aside. She clapped her hands and lights flickered on and the girls were able to get a good look at their kidnapper. Messy green feathers, a scar over a now robotic right eye, a giant brown fur coat, a cracked beak, and a grotesque figure overall. When Lucy saw her, she clung to Hazel’s sweater and Hazel wrapped her arm around her. 

“Now, let me make myself clear: you two are here for ransom; a ploy to get your parents here if you will. I know they want you in one piece so I won’t hurt you,” She said, and Hazel sighed a breath of relief. 

“Unless you misbehave, so don’t get too comfortable,” she grinned. “However that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make use of you two. I’ve compiled a list of chores for the both of you to do. The little one will start with cooking, and you will chop wood outside,” She said. 

“Lucy can’t cook, she’s six. A-and it’s the middle of winter, way too cold to be chopping wood. I-i don’t even have snow gear,” Hazel looked at her like she was insane (which she was, but that was beside the point). 

“That wasn’t a request,” her eyes flashed in anger.

“W-well I get that, b-but-”

“Listen here little girl,” Turaco opened the cell door and picked up Hazel. “If you keep talking back to me there will be dire consequences. You may as well say goodbye to your little cousin now, understood?” Hazel nodded, pure terror in her eyes. Turaco laughed and tossed her back on the ground. 

“Good. You will do what I ask as I ask or else. Now come along, you’ve got work to do,” Turaco left the cell. 

“Haze, are you okay?” Lucy asked. Hazel grumbled and nodded. 

“We should go. C’mon, hold my hand,” she said as she stood. Lucy bobbed her head and held her cousin’s hand tightly. 

“I don’t like the scary lady,” Lucy stated. 

“Me neither... but we have to do what she says so we can go home, okay?” Hazel asked. 

“Okay,” Lucy nodded. She paused a moment before saying, “I wanna go home.”

“I know... me too,” Hazel squeezed her hand and Lucy squeezed back. 

“Ah here we are. The kitchen. Get to work on making us something good,” Turaco ordered. 

“I-i don’t know how to-”

“That wasn’t a question. Now get in there,” She grabbed Lucy by the collar of her dress and tossed her to the floor. Hazel ran to her but Turaco snapped her fingers. 

“You and I are going elsewhere, remember? Hurry along now,” She glared before beginning to walk away again. 

“I’m sorry Lucy. I’ll see you later; hang in there,” Hazel said before running off to catch up with Turaco. 

“And this is where you’ll be,” Turaco opened a door and a gush of wind came in, causing Hazel to shudder. 

“I-it’s fr-fr-freezing,” She rubbed her arms. 

“Good thing you’re wearing a sweater. Get to work,” she pushed Hazel outside and stationed a robot guard at the door. 

“Well... let’s just hope this doesn’t go horribly for both of us...” 

.o0o.

For hours, Hazel worked away at chopping wood. She had terrible aim and the arm strength of a limp noodle. By the end, she gained very sore arms, and blisters covering her hands, but eventually, she considered her work done and was let back inside to the cell. She waited there for what felt like hours that she tried to sleep through before she heard the cell door open and Lucy crying. Hazel immediately sat up and saw that Lucy was holding a burnt and bloodied hand that had been struck by a ruler. 

“Lucy, what happened?” Hazel opened her arms and Lucy ran into her arms. 

I-i w-was trying t-t-to coo-cook l-like she sa-said,” she hiccuped, “b-but I-i burned m-m-my ha-han-hand a-and i-i couldn’t st-stop crying a-and the food went b-black a-and sh-she g-got mad a-and-and got a ruler a-and now my ha-hand really hurts,” she sobbed. Hazel squeezed her cousin tightly, trying to pour as much comfort as she could into it.  

“Well if you keep it up, there’ll only be more where that came from,” Turaco had suddenly appeared in the room. Hazel glared at her. “My my, such a feisty one,” She shook her head. “I suppose it runs in the family.” Hazel had to raise an eyebrow at that. She definitely wasn’t as mad as her Uncle Donald. 

“She’s only six. Punish me next time,” Hazel said. 

“While that does sound fun because you are pretty weak for your age, I’ll have to decline. She messes up, she’ll get the punishment. Just like her father,” She grinned. 

“What do you mean ‘just like her father’?” Hazel pressed. 

“Oh? Did he really not tell you about me?” she seemed almost offended. “I’m the one who kidnapped and nearly killed him all those years ago. My... I think it was a little more than a year before you were born,” she said.

“h-how would you know that?” Hazel asked. 

“Oh, FOWL knows a lot of things, especially about your family,” she flashed a grin that sent another shiver down Hazel’s spine. “Your father was quite a thorn in our side when he was not much younger than you are now,” she said. 

“I-is that why I’m here?” she asked a lot more quietly. 

“The collection of Hubert Duck and Webbigail Vanderquack would very much benefit our causes so I suppose... yes. That’s exactly why you’re here. You’re fish bait that your oh so doting parents won’t even hesitate to fall for,” she smiled. Hazel wished she could’ve argued that, but it was true. They wouldn’t hesitate a moment to go try to rescue them. 

Oh god, she wasn’t going to be the reason her father died too, was she??? Her mind quickly spiraled. 

“However, they likely won’t be here until tomorrow, maybe even the day after, so here we are. Waiting while I struggle to find some use for you two,” she sighed. “Children are such pains, but it’ll all be worth it soon. I’ll have your daddies heads on a platter, as well as Webbigail too. Oh! And if we’re lucky we might even get Scrooge McDuck! Isn’t this exciting?!” She clapped her hands, but Hazel looked at her terrified, clinging onto her cousin even more than before. 

“It isn’t true Lucy, everything is gonna be okay,” she said. Lucy shook her head and continued to cry. 

“Awww, is the little one scared?” Turaco’s sarcasm oozed. “Well at least that means she’s got some brains in her. Now, don’t get some rest. We have a ransom video to record later.” With that, Turaco cackled and left the room, leaving Hazel feeling so many emotions all at once she couldn’t tell what was strongest. 

“I-i want m-my d-d-daddy,” Lucy sobbed. 

“I know Lucy, it’ll be okay,” Hazel stroked her hair. 

“I-i don’t wa-want them to g-get hu-hurt,” she looked up to her cousin. Hazel looked away in a failed attempt to hold back tears of her own. 

“i-i know... I want my dad too...” her voice cracked and she found herself unable to speak. She just hugged Lucy tighter and together they just cried with all their might in the small cold and damp cell, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

[shop-korea]

GOOGLE - FI - OUT - OF - OUT - LIVES - MEANS - JUST -

SIMPLY - REMOVE - SIM - FR - TOP - THEN - THEY - ARE -

NO - LONGER - OUR - TORTURE - AS - WE - EMBRACE IN -

MIAMI - HOME - INTERNET - AT&T - FIBER - OPTICS - YES -

TALL - APT - BLDGS - INCLUDED - SO - MANY - BLURED -

VIDEOS - AT - YOUTUBE - FR - 2G - SPEEDS - DON'T YES -

WORRY - EVERYONE - WE'RE - SUING - GOOGLE - FI -

2 - PRESERVE - 50 GB - THEY - EVEN - FORCE - US 2 -

USE - McDONALD's - WI FI - METROMOVER - WI FI -

WHICH - IS - GOOD - AS - DOWNLOAD - THEY - G FI -

ARE - ILLEGALLY - CONTROLING - 35 MIN - 2 REST -

LITERALLY - NO - SOUND - SOMETIMES - LIKE -

EVERY - 35 MIN - G FI - CONTROLING - NO YES -

REST - YOUR - SMARTPHONE - THUS - HDG - IS -

HAPPY - DOING - GOOD - ISSUING - OUR - NEW -

SMARTPHONE - FREE - EVERYTHING - WITH -

ELECTRONIC - SIM - SO - U - CAN - DUMP XO -

GOOGLE - FI - BETTER - THAN - FIBER OPTICS -

U - CAN - DUMP - AT&T - I'M - LEAVING - AT 8A -

DAILY - HISPANIC - NEW - ASSISTANT - JUST -

OPENED - STORAGE - DOOR - PLACED MAIL -

FR - YESTERDAY - 8:05A EDT - I - ALSO - SAID -

'I'M - STILL - HERE - BUT - I'M - JUST - WEARING -

A - PANTY - BLOOD - ON - THE - FLOOR - MANY -

WOMEN - 9 DAYS - 7 - 5 - 4 - DAYS - MINE - NOT -

9 OR - 7 DAYS - BLOOD - ON - MY - PANTY - YOU -

PROBLABLY - THINK - WHY - STORAGE - DOOR -

CLOSED - ALL - THE - WAY - BECAUSE - I'M -

ALWAYS - JUST - PANTY - BECAUSE - MY -

WATER - BILL - 2 PLACES - OVER - $1,000 -

CONSERVING - WATER - WITH - JUST - WEARING -

PANTY - BUT - I'M - IN - THERE - FULL - NUDIST -

AND - $50 DISCOUNT - EACH - MONTH' -

HAVE - 2 - PAY - GOOGLE FI - LEAVING -

SOON - MANAGER HISPANIC - WHO - LIVES -

AT - LITTLE HAVANA - MIAMI - TRIED - 2 BOX -

MY - FACE - WAS - SHAKING - STORAGE DOOR -

TRYING - 2 - DESTROY - IT - HE - TRIED - 2 BOX -

MY - THROAT - TRIED - 2 - BOX - MY - BREASTS -

SO - INSTEAD - I - GOT - NOTICE - EXTRA SPACE -

STORAGE - PROMO - JUST - 4 MONTHS - OVER -

$300 - I - CALLED - REPORTED - HIM - GOT $215 -

FR - $195 - NOW - 11 INSURANCE - THEIR - WATER -

SPRINKLER - RATS - ROACHES - $11 - AND - EACH -

TIME - U - CHANGE - UNIT - $29 - ADMINISTRATIVE -

FREE - AGAIN - SO - U - WON'T - WANT - 2 - THAT -

IS - TAX - DEDUCTIBLE - HE - WAS - SURPRISED - I -

GOT - DISCOUNT -

DIB HERNANDEX

(FATSO) (FATHER)

EXTRA SPACE STORAGE

(NEAR - BRICKELL - STATION - LONG - WALK)

1103 SW 3RD AVE

MIAMI - FL - 33101

HERE - MEN - CAN - JUST - CLOSE - YOUR -

STORAGE - DOOR - THROW - GASS 2 SLEEP -

U - MANY - HOURS - LOCK - IT - WITH THEIR -

NEW - LOCK - OR - DUPLICATE - YOUR LOCK -

THEIR - STORAGE - STICKS - GREEN - STICKER -

2 - DESTROY - YOUR - LOCK - THROW - AWAY -

AFTER - BUT - WE - HAVE - LIFETIME - YES -

GURARANTEE - THE - MEN - COME - BACK -

U R - FAINTED - THEY - TIE - YOUR - MOUTH -

PUT - U - INSIDE - CARPET - MOVERS TRUCK -

U - GO - 2 - BRICKELL - APTS - OR - LA HAVANA -

MIAMI - TIED - UP - LIKE - HONG KONG - BUT HK -

ARE - LESBIANS - TIED - UP - 4 - THREE - MEN 2 -

DO U - THEN - THEY - JUST - PAY - $$$$ - 2 HAVE -

U - REMEMBER - I - WAS - KIDNAPPED - TWICE -

MORE - THAN - 25 MALES - BRUNETTES - THEY -

WHITE - NO - BLACK - RAPED - ME - TIED - ME -

ROPES - ABOVE - FEET - WRISTS - MORE THAN -

8 MONTHS - TWICE - CANOGA PARK - CALIFORNIA -

RAPED - IN - MOVIE - THEATRE - FIRST - AND - NEW -

CINEPLEX - SO - I - KNOW - LIKE - HELENE OF TROY -

KIDNAPPED - THEN - WHEN - WRINKLED - PRUNE -

BAG - NOW - NO - ID - ON - PARK - OF - GOV'T YES -

CENTER - THEY - USE - STORAGE - UNIT - BLDGS -

2 - GET - WOMEN - SO - THEY - LOCK - YOUR -

STORAGE - DOOR - DUPLICATE - YOUR LOCK -

ABOVE - GAS - 2 - FAINT - THEN - TAKE YOUR -

BODY - 2 - HOUSE - OR - APT - LIKE TAX FREE -

HONG KONG - LEAVING - SOON -

JESUS - IS - LORD

DIB HERNANDEZ - LOOKED - LIKE - HE - WAS -

GOING - THROUGH - ALLERGIC - REACTION 2 -

FABREZE - HAWAIIAN - ALOHA - SPRAY

ALL - THIS - SO - MANAGERS - CAN BE

ONLY - ONCES - LEFT - KEYS - 2 - ENTER -

UNIT - 2 - STEAL - YOUR - THINGS - THEY -

ALSO - DELAY - MY - MAIL - UNTIL - THE -

NEXT - DAY - MANY - APT - BUILDING - IN -

BRICKELL - STORAGE - UNIT - 4 - YOUR -

FAUX - CHRISTMAS - TREE - ELECTRIC -

PLUG - 4 - YOUR - KIA - ELECTRIC - SO -

STORAGE - UNIT - $50 - $75 - $100 - $150

LEAVING - B 4 - CLOSES - GET - INTO -

ELEVATOR - B 4 - 10P EDT - BUT - GET -

OUT - OF - BLDG - ANYTIME - THEY - LIE -

2 - ALL - ILLEGAL - CONTROL - TORTURE -

LIKE - GOOGLE FI - MISOGANY -

HARM - AND - ABUSE - OF - WOMEN - BREASTS -

HARM - ABUSE - AND - MURDER - OF - YOUNG -

GIRLS - NO - BREASTS - I - TOLD - FEMALE XO -

HISPANIC - I - DON'T - NEED - BRA - I - DON'T -

FIT - A - PLAYTEX - 8 HR - BRA - FOR - WHO -

ALWAYS - WITH - U - BECOME - BOTH - YES -

CLEAN - TOILETS - AS - MANAGEMENT