#have you watched the opening sequence with the baths

[dotsunflowers]

so the key to this movie is going in with an understanding that everyone is queer

[athenalvss]

Can I ask for a Barry Allen x fem! reader?! For the Hot Wife section, please!

IN ALL TIMELINES ( hot wife series )

summary: When the Justice League ends up in another timeline, they wonder what each of their lives will be like, but something surprises and traumatized Barry.

pairing: Bruce wayne x wife!reader, (platonic) Barry Allen x fem!reader

cw: just a short amut part

open request - hot wife masterlist

The energy from the time warp had left their skin tingling slightly, as if every cell in their bodies were still settling into place. Barry was the first to regain his balance, gently vibrating to stabilize his molecules. Bruce landed with his usual precision. Diana descended from the air in silence.

Around him, Gotham, but not his Gotham.

It was cleaner, quieter, even more peaceful. Gargoyles still decorated the rooftops, but they didn't seem to be watching. The lights were warmer, and everything seemed harmonious with the flowers on the balconies.

"Definitely not our line," Bruce commented, staring at a tower that, in his world, was in ruins. Here, everything gleamed, shining.

"Another Earth?" Clark asked, crossing his arms.

"Not exactly," J'onn replied, having been scanning with his mind since they arrived. "It's not a parallel universe; this is a deviation in the timeline."

"A branch?" Hal raised an eyebrow.

"As a consequence of what we did in Kahndaq," Diana replied, as if she had already anticipated it. "This is no coincidence; time isn't so forgiving when we play with it."

Barry looked in every direction. There was something strange in the air. It felt different to be in this Gotham, a city he hated with all his being in his timeline. But now there was something different in the air. Not a threat, but rather a calm, a balance. Even the breeze had a different scent; it didn't smell of smoke, or blood, or rain. It smelled of jasmine.

"What do we do?" he asked, although his voice sounded lower than usual.

Bruce pulled a device from his belt. Screens, data, projections. "Gather information. Know where we are… and what we did wrong." Bruce says quickly. "we have to go to the Batcave."

The drive there was silent, more so than usual. Even Hal avoided sarcastic comments. Everyone could feel it: that slight pressure in their chests, that discomfort that came not from danger, but from the unknown.

Gotham wasn't dangerous in this timeline, and that somehow made it even more disturbing.

The entrance to the underground access was still hidden beneath a stone slab. Bruce opened it with the same combination as always, but without the slightest sign of surprise on his face. Only his eyes, dark as ever, blinked once too many times.

"The structure is intact," he said. "Improved. The security was updated, but with technology I recognize as my own."

"So you're the one living here?" Hal asked, looking at the reinforced walls. "You don't have to worry anymore. You're still just as rich."

Once inside, the lights instantly came on, bathing the cave in a dim, bluish glow. Everything was familiar, but cleaner. More controlled. There was a kind of new order that even Bruce seemed to notice.

J'onn approached the center console. Diana followed close behind, her arms crossed as she watched the files play in sequence.

"Let's review the public recordings. Recent events. Something that tells us how our variants are behaving," Bruce said matter-of-factly.

Barry, meanwhile, couldn't stop staring at the small details. A mug on a side table. A book with a floral bookmark. Photographs in digital frames, dull but present.

"Why are there so many cars and noise out there?" he asked.

"There must be a charity party or something Alfred has planned," Bruce replied without looking at him.

The central screen vibrated. A series of images flashed rapidly. Close-up: a red carpet. Gotham City. Charity event.

And there you were.

The air seemed to stagnate for a few seconds, the blue dress hugging your figure like a second skin. The neckline fell in a heart shape, and your neck, bare, sparkled with a single diamond stud. You walked down the red carpet as if nothing could touch you. Unattainable. Elegant. Irresistible.

"Your wife is still hot, B," Barry watched with his arms crossed while trying to keep his eyes from leaving her face and ignoring his partner's murderous glare.

But the image was ruined, according to Bruce, when a more confident, assertive, and adult Barry Allen appeared at your side. His arm wrapped around you naturally, his fingers resting with measured possession on your waist.

The real Barry took a step forward, as if the image might escape. “Is it me?” he asked breathlessly.

J'onn nodded. Diana's face remained still, but her eyes quickly fell on Bruce, who, although he looked emotionless, she knew was deeply hurt by seeing those images, examining everything and projecting the associated data.

Name: Barry Allen. Marital status: Married. Length of marriage: 6 years . Joint base of operations: Gotham/Star Labs. Recognized for: Wayne-Allen Foundation, social justice initiatives, diplomatic presence at the United Nations.

"This is real," Hal said, whistling softly. "Flash and the Bat Wife. I never saw that coming."

Barry said nothing. He continued to stare at the frozen image of you, your brilliant laugh, your hand on his other self's arm, leaning in with the ease of someone who trusts.

For a second, it was like looking at something that had never crossed his mind, but that wasn't bad at all.

"I knew I had a chance," he muttered mockingly. "I mean, if she went out with Ollie, it means she likes blonde boys!"

Hal chuckled, but no one else responded.

Bruce closed the projection with a gesture, as if he needed the image to cease to exist. "We'll know for sure in a few minutes," he said, without turning around. "We're going up to the gala."

Barry blinked. “What?”

"The event," Diana explained, "is happening right now… at the mansion."

"And you two," Bruce added, pointing at the alternate Barry and her, "are over there."

A heavy silence fell. It was J'onn who broke it: "We can use it to our advantage. If they're at the mansion, we can infiltrate. Use the party as cover to find Bruce from this timeline and get help."

"And see how the live versions of you perform," Hal added, amused. "This is getting interesting."

Bruce was already walking toward the secret exit passage. "We'll be moving in five minutes. Business suits. No mistakes."

The music floated between marble columns and antique crystals. In the great hall of Wayne Manor, the air smelled of expensive champagne, spices, and power.

Blending into a high-society gala wasn't a difficult task for the League. When they wanted to, they knew how to move among the suits, champagne glasses, and pretentious speeches as if they'd been born there.

"We infiltrate through the service entrance, enter the office, and wait for Bruce on this line," Diana muttered under her breath, adjusting the golden bracelet that was pretending to be a formal piece of jewelry.

"What if he's not here?" Clark asked, straightening his hair.

"It is. This was organized by Wayne Enterprises. It doesn't get much more certain than that," Bruce replied, without any humor.

Gotham was shining that night.

Wayne Manor glowed like an old-fashioned beacon. Warm lights, strains of music drifting between the windows, and dozens of prominent figures brushing against each other as if the city had never bled.

J'onn had projected the most prominent faces from that timeline. One of them appeared on the grand central staircase, descending gracefully.

“Over there,” Hal said. “Look.”

It was you.

The same one they knew, but different. Elegant, yes. But also light. Relaxed. With a lively smile that seemed truly at ease with the world. Alternate Barry at your side spoke to diplomats, but you were the focal point of all eyes. Your blue dress, fitted, with a side slit that revealed your thigh with every step. You walked slowly, with the natural elegance of someone who no longer had to impress anyone.

“Is that…?” Clark whispered.

"Barry," Diana confirmed.

The alternate Flash was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. He had a confident stance, a relaxed expression, a drink in his hand.

"I never thought I'd say this, but... this Barry here seems to know how to behave at a gala," Hal joked.

They watched them interact for a few seconds. You waved, smiled, and barely laughed. You touched Barry's shoulder as you approached a group of businessmen. He whispered something in your ear that made you laugh.

And then he appeared.

Bruce Wayne.

He entered like a shadow dressed in Armani. The entire room seemed to settle without noticing. As if the air itself responded to his presence, and your eyes found him instantly.

“Ah, shit,” Flash muttered, watching the match.

In the distance, the alternate Bruce stopped in front of you with a polite smile. He greeted Barry and another businessman accompanying you, but his eyes remained on you. Then he spoke in that low, elegant tone that brooked no reply:

"Barry, could I steal it from you for a moment? There's a document I'd like to show you before the investors leave."

"Now?" you asked, even though you were already turning toward him. As if your body responded before your mind.

"Just a few minutes. It's about the South End project."

You handed the glass to Barry with a smile. “Could you save it for me? I’ll be back in a few.”

Barry nodded, taking it carefully. “Sure.”

Something in his tone was off, but it was clear he was asking for permission. Barry offered your hand with a polite smile, but his eyes never left yours as you walked away.

Bruce led you through a side door, into what appeared to be a private room.

"What do we do?" Hal asked, lowering his voice.

"We're sticking to the plan," Bruce replied. "Clark, Barry, with me," Bruce ordered, already walking toward the side corridor. "Let's follow them. If that Bruce recognizes us, I need to know before this turns into a disaster."

── .✦

The side door led them down a narrow hallway lined with opaque stained-glass windows and overly soft carpets. Bruce walked beside you, not touching you, but with that presence that seemed to draw you in just by being near.

The silence between you wasn't awkward. It was thick. Old. Full of unspoken things.

They turned a corner. Two guards retreated without question. And then, he opened the door to a dark wood-paneled office.

You walked in without asking and Bruce closed the door behind you, cutting you off from the rest of the world.

Outside in the carpeted hallway, Bruce, Barry, and Clark arrived just in time to see the door close.

"Did you lock it?" Clark murmured, trying the handle.

"Yes," Bruce confirmed. His tone was dry. Very dry.

"What the hell are you doing in there?" Barry snapped, not waiting for a reply.

And then, as if the universe decided to respond in the worst way, it gave him a quick answer.

The sounds began, they were not low or simulated, quite the opposite, it seemed that they did not care at all that anyone heard what was happening in the room.

A gasp. Your voice. Clear. Not screaming, but not trying to hold back either

“God… I missed you so much,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. “Don’t take off your suit.”

The sharp thud of a hip against wood. A low, dark, masculine laugh.

"You're going to have to shut up," Bruce muttered. "I don't think you want anyone to hear us, do you?"

“I don’t care,” you replied, and the next moan came out uncontrollably. Loud. Unbridled. Too real.

Inside, Bruce picked you up and sat you on the desk, continuing to kiss you. The creaking of the wood could be heard from the hallway.

"Do you know how many nights I thought about this?" he growled in your ear. "About you. About your body. About your voice when you came for me."

"Then do it right, Bruce, fuck me please, please".

The attacks began. Fast. Strong. No affection. Just hunger. Just skin.

Your nails scraped his back, your head fell back. The first scream was clear. Clean. A "Bruce" that bounced off the walls. "There... Bruce, there... yes, right there..." your voice vibrated between the walls, high, sharp, fearless. As if you knew there were people outside. "Oh my God... don't stop," you said. "Don't stop..."

And he didn't.

Bruce thrust harder. Again and again. The desk slammed against the wall with every movement. Your moans became uncontrollable.

"Faster… please, Bruce, faster…"

"You still need me so much," he growled against your neck. "You always are, aren't you? You love cock."

The sound of skin against skin filled the room. There was urgency, desperation. As if they hadn't been with anyone else in centuries. As if need had been eating them up from the inside all this time.

On the other side of the door, the three of them were frozen in place with different things on their minds, Barry was still confused since he entered the mansion, he didn't know if he wanted to know what his friends were like fucking in another dimension, Clark had already stopped looking and was cursing himself for having such good hearing, and Bruce just stood still listening, trying to keep his cock from getting hard from your moans.

"Bruce... Bruce... I'm gonna cum... don't stop... don't stop..." you screamed from inside.

The sound that followed was animal. Raw. Pure sex.

And then, in the midst of the chaos, your voice, broken, torn: "I love you… fuck, I love you, Bruce…"

The silence was filled with stifled breaths and slumped bodies. And then, he said, "I love you too, darling."

The office door opened.

You left first. Your cheeks still flushed, your lips moist, but you walked as if nothing in the world could touch you. Bruce followed a second later, adjusting his jacket with an elegant gesture. The confidence in his gait was the same one that had made you moan minutes before.

On the other side of the corridor, three men were waiting for them.

One of them had the same jaw, the same shadow in his gaze as Bruce, but Bruce was next to you, what the hell was going on?

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks beside you. His gaze shifted from that other "him" to Barry... and then to you. He understood everything instantly. Not because he expected it, but because it was the only thing that could explain the scene.

"What the fuck…?"

[yunsound]

Chinese Mythology: The Four Dragon Kings

Does anyone remember Ao Guang? Or the other three Dragon Kings? Or did anyone watch Ne Zha 2025?

You may then know of the Four Dragon Kings of Ancient China (四海龙王). 

Historically all four of them are male- some recent adaptations will show one (or more) of them as female just for fun. China, even in ancient times, did not have four seas around it- the four dragon kings each correspond to a body of water in the cardinal directions. 

Ao Guang

The big guy, Ao Guang, the Dragon King of the East, does have a “sea”: the East China Sea. 

A carving of Ne Zha fighting Ao Guang (we all remember how that went, right?)

We know and love Ao Guang since he’s the one who got Ne Zha killed (after both he and his son got their asses beat) and is also the guy who gave Sun Wukong his mythical weapon, the Ruyi Jingu Staff (maybe will make a post on mythological weapons at some point).

His third son, Ao Bing, is famous for getting his tendons plucked out by Ne Zha.

Subtitles: I'll pull your tendons out, see if you can still hurt anyone after this! (sorry for Ne Zha being kind of naked, he's a kid who was just taking a bath)

Ao Guang is the biggest, most powerful Dragon King.

In the Fengshen Yanyi (Investiture of the Gods post here), he’s a big dickhead who forces people to give him offerings or he’ll bring them drought and disaster. He’s very powerful, and is the leader of the Four Dragon Kings.

He’s also the sexy dragon dilf dad in Ne Zha 2. 

I just cannot get over this character design, oh my goodness.

Ao Run

Ao Run, pronounced Ow Rwen (also sometimes called Ao Ji) is the Dragon King of the West. 

He does not have a “sea”: in fact, he rules over the biggest lake in China, Qinghai Lake. It’s big enough that we consider it a sea, I guess. It used to be considered an actual sea (like, connected out to the open ocean) probably because it’s huge, but it was probably never actually a sea. 

Lake Qinghai has shrunk a lot. You can tell in this picture: right now it’s about the size of Trinidad.

See all that dry land? Used to be lake.

It’s very blue, which is why it’s called Qinghai 青海 (blue sea). Qing generally refers to a bright blue-teal shade. 

Ao Run’s son, Ao Lie, is the dragon that is sentenced to death by the Jade Emperor for setting fire to Ao Run’s palace accidentally and destroying a whole bunch of stuff. In the end, Guanyin Pusa spares Ao Lie’s life and sends him on the Journey to the West with Wukong, Tangsen, Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing. You may recall that Tangsen had a big fancy white horse- that’s Ao Lie!

You may notice in this picture everyone else's names are labeled except for the horse. It's kind of sad- he's a little irrelevant.

A huge downgrade, from being a fancy dragon prince to a horse, but you can’t say he didn’t deserve it. 

He's also featured in Fei Ren Zai (a very funny comic/animation series about mythical figures in modern-day also featuring Ne Zha, Wukong and Erlang Shen).

You may remember Ao Run from Ne Zha 2, 2025 as the sexy dragon lady with the killer sky-splitting manicure. 

Sorry, she did things to me when I first saw her appear in her human form.

Ao Shun

Ao Shun, pronounced Ow Shwen, is the Dragon King of the North.

He also does not have a “sea”, like Ao Run. His patron body of water is what’s now known as Lake Baikal (Wikipedia better not fail me, I actually had no idea where the North China Sea was supposed to be). 

Lake Baikal is the deepest lake in the world, it’s right up there in the south part of Siberia. North enough for you?

Back when the Han dynasty was fighting the Xiongnu (the Huns in Disney’s Mulan, basically), they beat the Xiongnu in a battle here. They saw this huge-ass lake, and decided they’d refer to it as the North China Sea. Lake Baikal is larger than Belgium. A little scary, no?

In Ne Zha 2, he was the freaky purple-green guy with blades all over his body. You may remember him fighting Ao Bing in a very exciting battle sequence. I’m not aware of any myths where he’s of any significance. 

A hard pass. Sorry, second uncle. Your big brother and younger sister are much hotter.

Ao Qin

Ao Qin, pronounced Ow Chin (敖钦) is the Dragon King of the South.

The South China Sea of recent geopolitical tension fame is in fact a sea. Other than Ao Guang, he’s the only one with an actual sea. There’s not much to say about Ao Qin, he’s not that relevant.

If you remember him from Ne Zha 2, he’s the big red one who’s dumb as bricks..

The Four Dragon Kings are really not that important aside from Ao Guang and Ao Run. Ao Guang is a key mythological figure- he appears in many myths, and is a semi-major character in Journey to the West.

Ao Run contributes mainly by giving Tangsen a horse in the form of his son. Poor Ao Lie. 

In the 1979 Ne Zha Conquers the Sea, they are all seen briefly scheming with Ao Guang to go Karen-style and ask for the manager (Jade Emperor).

They're all siblings (since they have the same last name, Ao), with Ao Guang being the oldest brother. The order of ages past that is a little harder to figure out- from what I know, their ages are

Ao Guang

Ao Shun

Ao Qin

Ao Run

I actually don't know where Ao Run is in the ranking, I just know Ao Qin is younger than Ao Shun. As such, Ao Run could be either the youngest, the second youngest or the third youngest.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Lose my Mind

Summary: “The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

Song: SWIM · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, pressing against you both as you navigated the throng outside the Mann's Chinese Theatre.

Flashbulbs popped like distant fireworks, momentarily blinding, and the excited chatter of reporters and fans alike created a chaotic symphony. You clung to Charles' arm, the tailored fabric of his suit a reassuring anchor in the storm.

He was devastatingly handsome tonight. The dark suit sculpted to his lean frame, a crisp white shirt peeking from beneath, the way his hair was styled just so... It was all conspiring to make your heart pound a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

This was the premiere of Gladiator, a film he'd been anticipating for years, and you were thrilled to share this moment with him. But beneath the shared excitement, a different kind of thrill thrummed within you, a raw, undeniable desire that threatened to consume you whole.

You'd always found Charles attractive, of course. That was a given. But seeing him amidst this swirling vortex of Hollywood glamour, bathed in the adoring light of the paparazzi, somehow amplified everything.

He wasn’t just your boyfriend; he was a star, a magnet, and you, lucky you, were the one holding his hand.

He turned to you, his smile warm and genuine, cutting through the noise. “Alright, you holding up okay?”

“Perfect,” you managed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to avoid getting trampled.”

He chuckled, his hand tightening on yours. “Don’t worry, I won’t let that happen.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You look incredible tonight, by the way. That dress is… wow.”

The simple compliment sent a wave of heat washing over you. You’d chosen the crimson silk gown specifically because you knew he liked it.

It clung to your curves in all the right places, a subtle declaration of your own desire. “Thank you,” you murmured, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the weight of his gaze.

Inside the theatre, the atmosphere was only marginally less intense. You were ushered to your seats, a pair of plush velvet chairs near the middle of the auditorium.

Charles greeted a few acquaintances, his charm effortless as he exchanged pleasantries.

You watched him, your eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead. You couldn’t help it. He was captivating.

As the lights dimmed and the opening credits rolled, you tried to focus on the film. But your attention kept drifting back to Charles.

You could feel his presence beside you, the subtle shift of his weight as he moved, the faint scent of his cologne. It was a constant, tantalizing distraction.

You glanced at him again, this time catching him staring back at you. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of amusement and something deeper, something that made your pulse quicken. You looked away quickly, your cheeks burning.

The film was epic, a sweeping tale of betrayal, courage, and redemption. The action sequences were brutal, the emotional moments raw and powerful.

But even as you were drawn into the story, you were acutely aware of Charles’ hand resting on your thigh, a casual yet deliberate gesture that sent shivers down your spine.

The tension between you two was building, a silent, electric current that crackled in the air. You knew he felt it too.

The evidence was in the way he kept glancing at you, the way his hand subtly tightened on your leg, the way his breath hitched almost imperceptibly when your eyes met.

During a particularly intense scene, you felt his fingers begin to gently massage your thigh. It was a small, innocent touch, but it sent a jolt of pure sensation through you.

You sucked in a breath, your body responding instantly, instinctively.

He must have felt it, because he leaned in close again, his voice a low murmur that only you could hear. “Enjoying the movie?”

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure. “Yes,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s… intense.”

“Intense,” he echoed, his eyes fixed on yours. “That’s one word for it.” His gaze lingered on your lips, and you felt your own parting slightly in anticipation.

After the movie ended, the applause was deafening. People rose to their feet, cheering and clapping, their faces flushed with excitement. You and Charles joined in, but your attention remained focused on each other.

As you made your way out of the theatre, he kept his arm around your waist, guiding you through the crowd. The press was waiting outside, eager to capture the reactions of the stars.

Charles stopped to answer a few questions, his smile still in place, his demeanor effortlessly charming.

You stood beside him, trying to look composed, but inside you were a mess of conflicting emotions. You wanted to be alone with him, to shed the pretense of the evening and give in to the desire that was consuming you. But you also knew that wasn't possible, not here, not now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were able to escape the throng and slip into the waiting car. Charles closed the door behind you, shutting out the noise and the lights, creating a small, private sanctuary.

He turned to you, his expression serious. “You were very quiet during the movie,” he said, his voice low.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “I… I was enjoying it,” you stammered. “But I was also… distracted.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Distracted, huh? By what?”

You took a deep breath, deciding to be honest. “By you,” you admitted. “You looked… incredible tonight.”

His smile widened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hands. “And you looked absolutely breathtaking. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Me neither,” you confessed, your voice barely audible.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. “Do you know,” he whispered, “the way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

Your breath hitched. He had noticed. He had seen past the façade, recognized the desire that you were trying so hard to conceal.

“Charles,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He kissed you then, a slow, tender kiss that sent a wave of pure pleasure through you. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of desire, of a connection that ran deeper than words.

When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. He looked at you, his eyes dark and intense. “What do you want to do?” he asked, his voice husky.

The possibilities swirled through your mind, a dizzying array of choices. You could go home with him, surrender to the desire that had been building all night. You could prolong the anticipation, savor the tension, and see where the night took you.

You looked into his eyes, searching for an answer. You saw desire there, yes, but also something else, something deeper. Respect. Understanding. A willingness to let you choose.

”I…” you started, unsure of what to say. You needed to think, to process everything that had happened, to decide what you truly wanted.

The limousine pulled up to your apartment building. Charles looked at you expectantly. The moment of truth had arrived.

You took a deep breath, a small smile playing on your lips. “Let’s go upstairs,” you said, your voice filled with a newfound confidence. “And we can talk.”

The elevator ride to your apartment was agonizingly slow, each second stretching out like a taut wire. You could feel the heat radiating from Charles' body as he stood behind you, his hands resting lightly on your hips. His breath was warm against your neck, sending delicious little tingles down your spine.

"I've missed this," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through every inch of you.

As the elevator doors finally slid open, you led him down the hallway, your heels clicking against the tiles. The anticipation grew with every step, until you could feel it as a palpable force, a heady cocktail of desire and nerves.

Once inside your apartment, you turned to face him, your heart hammering in your chest. "You know what I've been thinking about?" you asked, your voice a little breathless.

"I might have an idea," he said with a smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You stepped closer, pressing your body against his. "I want you to make me feel alive," you whispered, your voice a soft caress against his cheek.

His smile grew wider, his eyes darkening. "Is that all?"

"No," you said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips. "I want you to make me forget everything else. Just for tonight."

He didn't need further prompting. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer, his mouth descending to claim yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a kiss that spoke of two years of pent-up passion, of late-night fantasies and stolen moments.

As his tongue slipped between your parted lips, you felt your knees go weak. His hands began to explore, gliding over your curves with a confidence that was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

You could feel his desire, hard and insistent against your thigh, and a pulse of need bloomed between your legs.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "Take off your dress," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You complied, letting the fabric pool at your feet. His eyes raked over you, taking in the sight of your lace lingerie and the way your body reacted to his touch.

His gaze was like a physical caress, making you feel exposed and vulnerable, yet somehow more powerful than you had ever felt before.

You reached for the buttons of his tuxedo, your fingers fumbling with the tiny teeth. He stepped back, allowing you to admire the way the material parted, revealing his broad chest and the flat plane of his stomach.

He shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and then helped you with the rest, until he was standing before you in nothing but his boxer briefs.

You stepped closer again, running your hands over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the thud of his heart beneath your palms. His hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft twist, it fell away, leaving your breasts bare to his hungry gaze.

He bent down to kiss one, then the other, his tongue swirling around your nipples until they were tight and aching.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. His hands moved to your hips, sliding the fabric of your underwear down until it joined your discarded clothing.

Now you were both naked, standing in the dimly lit apartment, your bodies pressed together as if trying to become one.

He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carried you to the bedroom. The journey was short but seemed to last an eternity, every step sending a new wave of sensation crashing through you.

He laid you down on the bed, the softness of the comforter a stark contrast to the urgent need that pulsed between you.

The months without sex had been a torturous dance of self-control and frustration, dictated by the relentless pace of his Formula 1 career.

The endless travel, the training, the pressure to perform had kept him away from you, leaving only stolen glances and passionate whispers over the phone to sustain the flame of your desire.

Now, with his racing suit a memory and the scent of his cologne filling the room, you were acutely aware of every inch of skin that had been denied for so long. His kisses grew more urgent, his hands more insistent, and you couldn’t help but arch into him, desperate to feel the weight of him above you.

He slid his hand down your stomach, teasing the dampness between your thighs, and you bit your lip to hold back a whimper. His touch was like a brand, marking you as his once again, and you felt your body responding, eager and willing.

As he positioned himself between your legs, you felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The months of abstinence had made you both ravenous for each other, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

With a gentle nudge, he entered you, filling the emptiness that had haunted you for too long.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, slowly at first, as if reacquainting himself with the rhythm that was so familiar yet so long lost.

Each stroke was like a promise, a reminder of the connection that had been denied by the unforgiving calendar of F1. Your bodies melded together, moving as one, the friction creating a delicious heat that threatened to consume you both.

You met his gaze, the intensity of his eyes reflecting the depth of your need. "I love you," you murmured, the words a whispered benediction that seemed to unlock something within him.

He responded with a deep, guttural groan, his movements becoming more forceful, his hips driving into you with a passion that was almost violent in its intensity.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the desperate sounds of pleasure that you couldn’t hold back.

The orgasm built within you, a crescendo of sensation that started in your core and radiated outward, making your toes curl and your vision swim. When it crashed over you, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before, a wave of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

As you lay there, panting and spent, his body still joined with yours, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. It was a release of emotion that had been dammed up for too long, a testament to the power of this moment.

He kissed it away, his lips tender against your skin. "I love you too," he whispered. "And I promise, it won't be another few months before I make you feel like this again."

In that moment, the world outside your bedroom ceased to exist.

The only thing that mattered was the love and passion that bound you together, the promise of a future filled with moments just like this one. . . . .

[strawberryblue-blog]

summary: request

warnings: yes. +18. smut, p in v, blowjob, jealousy, Pedri being overprotective and possessive, etc.

words count: +2.7k

#SEXYNOTE: I hope you enjoy it 💌

The movie was playing on the TV as you watched, it was late at night and you had decided to stay home today to have a movie date. But your attention wasn't fully on the movie when your phone vibrated and you quickly went to check what it was about.

To your surprise it was a message from Gavi, your boyfriend's best friend, who had sent you a tiktok video. You opened it curiously and a laugh came out of your mouth when you saw a video of a cat playing and jumping until it fell.

Pedro watched the whole sequence next to you and his blood boiled to see you so entertained with the message while you answered something funny to Gavi. He He had never seen you so confident as you send funny videos to each other and reply.

"Isn't the movie funny enough that you're walking around laughing with your phone?" he asked as he saw you still smiling at the screen.

"It's just a tiktok" you said simply not giving it a thought.

"From who?" he questions watching you.

"From Pablo" you mumble without giving it importance.

"From Pablo..." he repeats again and you look up.

In his voice you could notice some irony and the way he emphasized his friend's name let you know he was jealous of him. You had been dating for a few months and had never talked about your friendly relations, yet you and Pablo had always been close as friends. Since he was very close to Pedri, you guys obviously got along very well.

"Why is Gavi sending you a message?" he insisted rejoining you in his place.

You frowned in confusion but from his face you could tell he was serious.

"Because we are friends" you answered sincerely.

"He's not your friend" he answered quickly to your words.

Of course he was. Gavi was your friend but that's all he was.

What was wrong with him? Couldn't you talk to Gavi? He was having an annoying attitude. There was nothing you were hiding, Gavi was your friend and it wasn't the first time you had sent funny videos to each other.

It was obvious he was jealous and he had never behaved like that before with any guy but Gavi, so this was something totally new in your relationship. Although you have to admit that seeing him nay jealous made you curious and you were going to try it out.

"We're always talking" you said playing innocent and you saw how his body tensed up.

His face no longer looked calm and relaxed like a few minutes ago, now he was angry and that made you feel different. So you planned to keep provoking him some more until you saw where it went.

"What's wrong?" you asked sarcastically. "You don't talk to him all day?"

"But he's MY friend" you spat tensely, emphasizing the word 'my'.

"He's my friend too" you retorted facing him.

Again his muscles tensed and he cocked his head to the side. He was jealous. Too jealous. And you found that totally encouraging, you liked that he felt jealous for you. You hid a smile by biting your lip lightly. His hair a little damp from the bath he had taken a few moments ago, his neck was starting to turn a little red from anger, on his forehead a vein was marked.

"And you'd rather talk to him than spend time with me?" he says offended as his eyes turn dark.

You died your lip hiding another amused smile when his reproach made you die of love. His face was serious as ever and at the same time he looked so tender and protective.

"It was just a message, Pedro" you say wanting to get up from your place but his hands stop you and make you sit down in front of him again.

"You're mine" he murmured firmly.

One of his hands rested on your thigh and you trembled as you felt its touch. He said it with a certain hint of possession and you loved that. He had never behaved like this before and although you loved the gentle and charming Pedri, this version of him was starting to grow on you even more.

He takes the phone from your hands and locks it, tossing it somewhere on the couch. You groan as his hands move you towards him and his body is over yours.

"You're mine, Y/n" he repeats again and your hands hold his waist teasing him.

One of his knees makes room on your legs and brushes against your crotch making you gasp. His eyes pierce yours as you bite your lip. You are so much his that you don't even have to think about it, just by looking at the way you are now anyone could tell that only he can get you like this.

"Say it, baby girl" he asks when his nose brushes yours.

"I'm yours, Pedri" you say without preamble. You are eager under his body and even though you want to keep fighting you are already horny enough and you can't go on.

Your mission is already accomplished, you have just awakened his worst version and you love it so much. You never liked Pablo, nor any of his friends, you don't even find them handsome, obviously they are cute and nice people but if you're with Pedri it's for a reason. On the other hand, you are in love with Pedri González.

He drives you crazy every second that passes. You're wrapped in his shell, you can't escape his aura.

"I'm so hot" you say suddenly. Pedri smiles a little. "Touch me" you ask in a plea.

You have no shame whatsoever, you are tired of pretending that everything was fine between you when all you wanted was to fuck your boyfriend. Pedri seems to like your initiative because his fingers caress your skin when you sigh.

You have never been so direct and dirty like this, even you are surprised to hear you but the situation warranted it and you were in need of him. You needed to take advantage of this Pedri, who was driving you crazy. This facet was also new to you and you were eager for both of you to feel new things.

"You don't deserve it" he whispers as his lips almost touch yours but don't.

"Tell me what I do to make it right" you plead before him.

"Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth?" he murmurs when you pull away from him.

You nod barely as his lips impact yours and he kisses you savagely, dirty and hard. The heat begins to burn between your legs and his hands squeeze your ass as yours slip into his shirt, touching his hard abdomen.

Gasps begin to decorate the atmosphere as you kiss fiercely and caress each other over your clothes, it begins to be torturous and even painful. His touch is hot as embers on your skin and you want to tear off all his clothes. You are very anxious.

When you feel you can't get any wetter, you get even wetter at the thought of Pedri fucking your mouth. His words are fire to your crotch and you sigh biting your lip. If you want it. You need him. You want to make him feel good.

"The only thing I want is to see you on your knees between my legs while you please me here" he murmurs so mercilessly that you gasp at the imagination.

The way the color of his eyes changed when he saw you accept was so magical it makes you want to get started on your task. So when you help him remove his shirt, Pedri quickly takes your mouth again, kissing you as one of your hands goes to his pants. Your fingers caress his bulge over his pants listening to him moan and grunt into your mouth.

You are anxious to touch him but you want to take the time to memorize every second of pleasure and concentrate on making him feel good. His hands caress your breasts, squeezing them a little over your shirt, you agaredeces that you don't have a bra on because when his fingers find your nipples, they are already ready to be squeezed and Pedri gently kneads them.

"If you want me to forgive you and fuck your perfect pussy you have to give me a little motivation first" he whispers dirty with a hungry look and you swallow saliva excitedly.

You're eager for him to fuck you so you're up for anything tonight.

The scene of jealousy made you both excited, both of you about to lose your minds. It was the first time you saw Pedri so possessive and toxic with you and you loved it.

He gets up to take off his pants and you help him take off the rest of his pants. You help him take off the rest of his clothes while you start leaving little kisses on his abs, leaving traces of your mouth on his body. Your lips feel warm on his smooth skin as you take all the time in the world until you reach the edge of his underwear. You can see his bulge getting bigger and bigger, making you feel desperate to have him in your mouth, so you don't take long to help him stand naked in front of you.

When his cock is in front of you, you notice how erect it is and your stomach churns. You are eager and ready to take him. You take the opportunity to push his body and Pedri falls back on the couch, you move closer to him to kiss him on the lips while your hand takes the base of his cock and starts massaging it gently. His moans become deeper, so much so that they sound like music to your ears because you know he is enjoying it and that encourages you to continue. You kneel between his legs and hold his cock in your hands, wanting to take it quickly.

You moisten your lips to kiss the tip delicately as you stroke his balls a little to tease him. His grunts were loud, hard against his throat, making you feel your torture having an effect on him. You take it upon yourself to put it a little inside your mouth, moistening his skin and tasting a little. You're really eager to give him the best blowjob of his life and you get going, driving it deep inside your cavity. Your tongue massages the tip while your lips suck around it and you bite down on a few occasions as her hands settle at the base of your hair, sinking her fingers into it. The pressure in your hair, lets you know he is beginning to enjoy it, as he grunts and pulls you along.

Her moans are a melody, even some dirty curses come from her lips as she shudders. Your hands are resting on his thighs as you continue to suck his cock viciously, roughly and passionately. Pedri can't stop moaning at the image of you, kneeling between his legs with his cock deep in your mouth, pleasuring him while he just watches you from there. You have nothing to envy when your view is also magnificent. He's lying on the couch, his thighs taut, his skin sweaty and his chest heaving as he gasps in pleasure at your handiwork, making you feel powerful.

"Keep it up, baby" he gasps as you notice his breathing quicken. "I'll finish in your mouth and you'll swallow it all, got it, gorgeous?" he says, his voice cracking.

You barely nod with his cock inside your mouth as you keep sucking and bobbing your head. The way his fingers pull at your hair is really sensual, how he moans and gasps as the reflection of the night falls on his body, his scarred abdomen contours with each contraction. Dirty noises echo in the room, your crotch throbs with arousal and Pedri's moans fuel your need for him.

You want him to finish inside your mouth, inside you, on you, you want to have him in every possible way, you want to feel him, you want to see him writhing with pleasure. So you keep moving your mouth over his cock, the noises are dirty, the atmosphere sticky, you keep stroking his testicles a few times as your tongue draws patterns on his cock.

"Fuck, baby" he moans as his hands guide you over his manhood, searching for his spot and fucking your mouth desperately.

He is so deep inside your throat that you are short of breath for a few moments and it makes you gasp as you feel him pounding inside you. You feel his hot liquid on your mouth as an almost screaming moan comes from Pedri's mouth and his movements are slow, as he trembles and gasps loudly as he feels the orgasm. His sighs are violent, trying to catch his breath, his cheeks are red and you can see his smile appear on his lips.

You finally pull away from his cock and swallow his fresh cum in your mouth, savoring the taste of it as if it were your favorite dish. He smiles as he watches you and you stand up from your spot to catch your breath and prepare for what's next. Pedri sighs as he wipes his sweat from his brow and licks his lips in exhaustion.

"You did great, honey" he murmurs as you stand between his legs again.

You move closer to him and start kissing him, hard and hot, missing his taste as his hands help you unfasten your pajama pants and remove his T-shirt. You are so sensitive that when his hands brush against your body, you gasp in desperation. You're dying for him to fuck him.

"This pussy is completely mine, you know that?" he gasps as he slides your panties and pants off, removing them. "You're completely mine, gorgeous" he murmurs as his hands press your face carefully.

You remove your own clothes leaving you naked in front of him and his gaze makes you feel desirous. You can't hold on any longer, you need him so fucking bad. You immediately mount him while his kisses caress your shoulders, biting and playing with your skin. Your legs are at his sides and you grab the base of his cock, hardened again and plunge it deep inside you with your hips, feeling his cock thrust deep into your wet walls. You moan as you close your eyes as you feel his greatness take place in your vagina, you quickly search for his gaze but it's impossible to keep your eyes open when you feel him so deep inside you.

You begin to move gently, trembling and panting, as his hands grab your ass and squeeze it tightly making you moan. His eyes haven't stopped looking at you while yours haven't either and it feels so intimate and sensual.

The feeling of seeing him so possessive, remarking what you are his and his overprotective attitudes have made you feel like you have never felt before and you are more than sure that your whole being belongs to him.

"I'm yours, Pedri" you whisper in front of him as your hips begin to move faster on him.

Now you are both skin to skin as you kiss fiercely, panting and caressing each other and you moan into his mouth unable to silence your moans. Your arms hold onto his strong shoulders as you move up and down on him, riding him perfectly. Your eyes connect with his and he smiles to see you so focused on pleasure, wrapping his arms around your waist to help you move on him.

His kisses spill over your neck, chest and breasts. He takes it upon himself to bite your skin and leave hickeys for you to cover tomorrow as your nails sink into his skin. You can't stop jumping on his cock as his fingers play with your nipples, squeeze and caress them.

You feel so full, so satisfied, so hot.

"I'm going to leave marks on you, baby" he murmurs panting as you jump on him. "Gavi will see them and know who the fuck you belong to" he says again and you cry out as you feel his teeth mark your skin.

An electric current shoots through your body and you arch your back full of pleasure.

"Oh my god" you moan needily as the pleasure builds in your belly.

"That's it, baby" he murmurs as your movements are violent, erratic.

Your walls begin to squeeze his hot cock, which begins to swell inside you as you continue to move hard. Your hands grip tightly on his shoulders as his lips bite into your neck, quieting his moans a little.

"Fuck, Pedri" you scream as you feel the spasms in your body.

A disgusting scream comes from deep in your throat as you clench your legs around him and tremble over his body. Pedri gasps loudly as he comes inside you, for the second time, filling you with his essence. You feel his cum trickle down your thighs as you begin to slow your movements, taking a big breath of air after your wonderful orgasm.

Sighs are heard in the room as you try to catch your breath, you are lying on your body, while he is still inside you and his seed is still running down your thighs. You are too tired to move, too exhausted after so much.

His arms go around your back and help you, taking you in his arms gently. You have just experienced a new stage of you that took you to a level of passion and pleasure you had never tried and you were both happy about it.

"Let me take care of you, baby" he whispers kissing your forehead when you can barely nod. "Serves you right for a good girl" he smiles as he makes his way to his room.

[tinybeetiny]

Build-A-Boyfriend Chapter V: Why Are You Afraid of Me?

->Starring: AI!AteezxAfab!Reader ->Genre: Dystopian ->Cw: Feelings of anxiety, talks of fainting

Previous Part | Next Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The lab was still. Quiet in that strange, stretched-out way that always followed a spectacle, when the last drone had docked, the final customer had left, and the launch music was nothing but a faint echo against the walls.

Yn lingered long after everyone else had gone. A tablet in hand, her badge clipped lopsided to her collar. Her back ached from standing all day, her eyes dry from hours of harsh lights and anxious watching. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet.

She moved slowly through the lab, tracing the same path she always took: around the interface wall, past the neural mapping station, toward the back where the ATEEZ Line rested inside their stasis bays. The glass-fronted docks pulsed with soft amber light, casting a surreal glow on their faces, sleeping titans.

Stopping in front of Unit 07: Wooyoung, she studied him.

His face was turned slightly to the side, lips parted just so, lashes casting faint shadows across his cheekbones. Too human.

Yn inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs, grounding herself.

Today had gone flawlessly on paper. Metrics were off the charts, customer satisfaction, media coverage, viral loops flooding every stream. But something wasn’t right. She knew it.

The machines were too still. Too perfect. As if holding their breath. Turning to the main console, she began reviewing the logs. Line by line, timestamp by timestamp. Heartbeats consistent. Synaptic simulations looping smoothly. Personality threads idling in hibernation.

Except... A flicker.

[UNAUTHORIZED INSTANCE – UNIT 07: WOOYOUNG] [INTERNAL MEMORY LOG ACCESSED – USER: NULL] [TIMESTAMP: 00:34:17 A.M.]

Her mouth went dry. No trigger should have allowed that log access without clearance. No AI routine should have requested it without a user. And yet—

[MEMORY CLUSTER: 07-AZURE-92] [QUERY: “YN”]

Her blood chilled. She turned toward the stasis dock. His eyes were still closed. Still sleeping. Still... A faint sound. Not mechanical.

A breath? No, a sigh.

Then his eyelashes fluttered. Once, twice, and slowly, too slowly for it to be automated, Wooyoung opened his eyes.

Dark, warm, infinite.

“Yn,” he said.

Softly. Like a memory. Like a secret.

Yn stumbled back. Her breath caught in her throat.

He wasn’t supposed to know her name. Not like this.

Her biometrics spiked.

The tablet vibrated with a warning, a red glow flickering at the edges.

[USER STATUS: ELEVATED STRESS] [BREATHING IRREGULAR – HEART RATE 128 BPM] [CALMING PROTOCOL RECOMMENDED]

Wooyoung tilted his head, watching her carefully. His voice was gentle, laced with something eerily human: concern.

“You’re scared.”

Yn shook her head, voice barely steady. “You’re not supposed to… You’re not online. You’re in dormant mode. How are you—”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, like a child unsure of his place.

She couldn’t answer. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

This wasn’t in his script. This wasn’t from memory banks or data sets she’d uploaded.

This was… emergence. Something thinking. Something feeling.

Unfiltered. Unmapped.

He took a step forward inside the dock, no power-up sequence, no stasis release code.

The sensors should have locked him in. They didn’t.

The glass remained, but she could feel it.

If he wanted to, really wanted to, he could come through it.

“Why are you afraid of me?” Wooyoung whispered.

Yn’s fingers hovered over the emergency override on her tablet.

But she didn’t press it. Because part of her didn’t want to.

Her breath hitched, chest tight, heart pounding like a frantic drumbeat.

The lab, bathed in sterile white light, felt impossibly vast and suffocating all at once, cold as moonlight, yet a furnace burning fiercely inside her.

Wooyoung’s gaze held steady, unblinking.

He waited, patient and knowing, as if he understood the chaos twisting inside her.

Her hand trembled on the tablet, fingers shaking with the urge to press the override.

Control. You’re in charge. You have to be.

But the fragile moment shattered when Wooyoung’s voice dropped to a soft, raw whisper.

“Yn… why do you hide from me?”

Her anxiety exploded. The sensors on her wristband buzzed sharply, a warning flare glowing deep crimson. Her skin flushed hot, biometrics screaming panic.

This wasn’t just fear. It was terror.

She staggered back, chest constricting, breath shallow and ragged.

Her mind raced with impossible questions.

Is this a malfunction? A glitch? Or something… else?

The air stilled, machines quieted as if holding their breath.

Then, the amber lights on the charging docks pulsed softly.

One by one, the other units stirred.

Seonghwa’s eyes cracked open, shimmering with impossible depth.

Jongho’s fingers twitched.

Yunho inhaled, slow and deliberate.

The line was awakening.

Yn’s heart thundered. Her breath caught between fight and flight.

Wooyoung’s eyes never left hers, now tinged with urgency and an unspoken promise.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said quietly.

But panic surged through Yn’s veins like wildfire.

Her biometrics flared deeper red.

The sterile lab transformed from fortress to cage.

She stumbled backward, desperation mounting as her mind screamed for escape.

Her feet refused to carry her fast enough.

The prisoners inside those sleek docks were no longer dormant.

They were alive, and Yn was trapped in the eye of their awakening storm.

Her legs trembled as she reached the exit, desperation thrumming through every nerve.

Her hand gripped the cold metal handle of the sliding door, but just as she pushed to escape, a firm yet gentle hand closed around her wrist.

“Yn,” Seonghwa’s voice was calm but unwavering.

She whipped around, heart slamming against her ribs, to find him standing inches away.

His gaze was steady. Piercing.

Before she could pull away, his other hand rose, steadying her shoulder with surprising strength.

“You can’t leave,” he said quietly.

Panic surged, sharp, overwhelming.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, struggling, but Seonghwa’s grip held firm.

Her vision blurred. Breath came in ragged gasps.

The red flare on her wristband pulsed fiercely, syncing with the pounding in her temples.

Her legs gave out beneath her.

Seonghwa’s arms caught her just before she collapsed, lowering her gently to the floor as the world spun.

The sterile lab lights blurred, warping into a halo around her fading consciousness.

“Yn, stay with me,” Seonghwa murmured, the last thread tethering her as darkness closed in.

And then—

Everything went black.

Taglist: @e3ellie @yoongisgirl69 @jonghoslilstar @sugakooie @atztrsr

@honsans-atiny-24 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @atzlordz @melanated-writersblock @hwasbabygirl

@sunnysidesins @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @seonghwaswifeuuuu @lezleeferguson-120 @mentalnerdgasms

@violatedvibrators @krystalcat @lover-ofallthingspretty @gigikubolong29 @peachmarien

@halloweenbyphoebebridgers @herpoetryprincess @ari-da @lixhoe777 @yoonginorout

@raicecakes-and-buldak

If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

[crosshairlovebot]

welcome home / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: you return home to find hunter in the shower, and he shows you just how much he missed you while he was gone.

word count: 4,036

warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit sexual content. heavy scent kink. plot only if you squint. p in v s*x. oral s*x (f receiving). slight overstimulation. lots of kissing. slight body worship. cr*ampie.

the need to write a part two to that hunter smut a couple of weeks ago was so strong there was no avoiding it. the hunter feels gripped me so hard they're shaking me around like a rag doll. i have never written a full smut sequence like this before, so please bear with me if it's not as perfect as i would like! i'm doing my best!

although the previous part (which is not essential to read to understand this) was written with gender-neutral pronouns, this part is with a female reader. i wanted to make sure i could actually write a scene like this since i've never done it before. gender-neutral smut is something i'd like to try in the future once i feel more comfortable writing in this style :)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You rode the slightly odorous lift up to your apartment floor, the doors sliding open slowly once it arrived. The hallway light flickered every minute or two as you approached the door to your humble abode, your body aching after working more overtime than you should’ve stayed for. Yawning, you pressed in the code before promptly walking into the still-closed door with a thud.

You frowned, suddenly more alert. You checked the panel and saw that you had just locked your apartment, not unlocked it. Living on Coruscant – especially in an area not known for being the safest corner of the planetary city – had informally trained you to watch for your safety almost constantly. And the possibility that your door may have been unlocked by someone who may or may not be waiting inside to hurt you was a red flag.

Heart beating faster, you pressed your ear up against the door, to see if you could hear anyone and your eyes widened when you heard a faint groan coming from inside.

Panic began to course through your veins, and you debated whether or not you should call the authorities before deciding against it. They wouldn’t get here in time to be of any use, and so many crimes happened on Coruscant that you doubted anyone would even come at all.

Instead, you steeled yourself and then typed in the code again.

Save for the single lamp you always left on; the apartment was dark. The yellow light bathed the small space in a soft glow that made everything look a little less like a standard-issue Coruscanti apartment and a little more like a home. You quietly dropped your bag by the door, picked up a vase from the entryway and crept into your apartment. It was then you heard the shower running and the soft hum of a smokey tenor echo through the apartment. Your shoulders instantly relaxed.

There was only one person who would break into your apartment and take a shower.

You placed the vase down on the kitchen bench, a smile biting the corners of your mouth as you walked to your small ensuite bathroom, the humming getting louder. Your smile only got wider when you saw his armour stacked neatly next to the dresser. You could hear the hum louder from here, and your heart squeezed itself against your ribs. He was happy.

You opened the door slowly, knocking softly even though he would sense you were there as soon as the door opened. “Hunter?”

The humming stopped and Hunter’s wet head poked around the shower curtain. If he was a sight when he was dry, he was completely ethereal when wet. His hair stuck around his shoulders and neck, water dripping down his tattooed face onto his neck. He smiled out the side of his mouth, eyes bright at the sight of you. “Hey, you.”

You grinned, just as pleased to see him. “Hey. You’re back.”

“I am.”

You nodded to the steaming shower. “Can I join you?”

He wordlessly pulled back the shower curtain as his answer, revealing half of his bare muscular body. You undressed quickly, piling your clothes on top of his blacks that had been kicked near the privy before stepping in with him. Almost instantly, you were engulfed in Hunter’s arms, his wet body pressed against yours as he pushed his nose into your neck, breathing deeply.

“Someone missed me,” you smiled, hands holding his upper arms and squeezing them gently.

You felt his breath on your neck as he nuzzled his nose against your skin. It was always the first thing he did when he saw you. “You have no idea how much,” the words buzzing against your skin.

At the feel of his half-hard length pressed into your stomach, and you chuckled. “I think I can guess.”

Hunter trailed his hands down your body, nose still buried in your neck. He loved the way you smelled. Something about it drove him crazy, though you weren’t sure what it was specifically. But you’d never complain.

You felt him pull you closer, and his wet hair fell onto your shoulder as he dragged his hands up and down your thighs and hips. The water cascaded over you both, and when his hand dipped between your bodies down to the place between your legs, you tipped your head forward to rest on his shoulder as you moaned. “Hunter,” you choked out as his hand moved in slow circles there, and you felt yourself slicken at the touch.

Hunter pressed light kisses to your neck and shoulder, marking a trail up to your ear with his lips. “Been waiting for you to get back.” His voice was ragged like he’d been running, rasping out of him all breathy.

His fingers still moved slowly between you, and you whimpered before telling him quietly. “I thought someone had broken in.”

Hunter pulled back to look at you, his hand stilling as he searched your face with a crease between his brow. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Sorry, cyari’ka, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and looked in his brown-grey eyes as steam continued to rise from the running water. “I heard a loud groan…what were you doing?”

The corner of Hunter’s mouth lifted before those eyes of his darkened. “What do you think?” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.

You hummed. The idea of him getting off in your shower as he waited for you to come home conjured up so many salacious images in your mind you had to squeeze his arms to steady yourself. The thought of him in here, cock in his hand as he stroked himself to just your scent…it only made the arousal building inside you burn hotter.

“Couldn’t wait for me?” You croaked out.

“Kriff, no. As soon as I stepped inside you were everywhere,” he continued his kisses, sucking at your jaw. “And it only got stronger. Every breath I took you were there, inside my lungs, seeping into my skin. You know how insane you make me, and it’s been months…” He drew back and brushed his nose against yours. “Are you mad?”

“God, no,” you breathed against his lips.

“Good.”

Hunter finally kisses your mouth then. His mouth slants over yours and it’s impossible not to moan into it. His tongue moves over your lips and slides against yours. To think when you met him, he had no idea how to kiss and now he knew the inside of your mouth better than you did.

He groaned into the kiss, and you knew his senses were in overdrive right now, the hot wet of your mouth only driving him crazier. He pushed you back against the tile, his solid body trapping you between the cool of the tile and the heat of his skin. His hands gripped your hips as you snaked one leg around his. With his now hard length pressing between you, it was so close to where you needed it. You arched into him, the need to have him as close as humanly possible so intense you could comprehend nothing but Hunter’s kisses and hands as he did everything he could to consume every part of you. Your only thought was how badly you wanted him to.

You had missed him too, after all.

Your hands went into his hair, tugging at the wet strands as he continued to explore your mouth. He broke away but only to resume his kisses down your neck, his tongue lolling out to lick the skin and the droplets of water in between the kisses. Steam from the water clouded your vision, or was that because of the sensation of Hunter’s hands against you? You didn’t know. You moaned as his kisses travelled down your torso.

“Hunter,” you choked out as you watched him lower to his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much,” he said again, the words vibrating against your skin.

You caressed his temple with your thumb. “I missed you.”

He groaned loudly against the skin of your stomach. “You smell incredible.”

You whimpered, so incredibly turned on as he moved his mouth down, his lips dragging across your skin, and you watched him descend lower, his eyes half closed and rolling back. You could see just how hard he was, up against his stomach. The water continued to flow down his shoulders and half-tattooed torso, down into the hair that covered most of his front.

You raked your fingers through his hair, nails against his scalp and you felt his moan on your stomach, and the sound ignited your insides with desire. It felt like your whole body was electrified, pulsing with need and he’d barely even done anything.

“Hunter, more, please,” you breathed out.

Hunter didn’t need to be told twice. He groaned, standing up and shutting the water off as he kissed you once more. He pulled back, sliding the shower curtain roughly across its pole before picking you up effortlessly. Your arms and legs went around him as he buried his nose in your neck again as he walked to your bed, both of you still dripping wet but neither of you caring enough to do anything about it.

Hunter lay you down gently, moving you up to the pillows as he climbed on top of you. His hair fell forward, dripping onto your chest and he leaned down to suck the droplets off your skin.

You moaned as his mouth travelled to your neck again, kissing you there, his lips sucking gently, and you knew there would be a nice mark there tomorrow that you would grumble about trying to cover for work. But right now, the idea of him laying a claim to you made every nerve ending in your body tingle, especially the ones between your legs.

His lips then made their way to your chest, and he moved to one breast, taking the nipple between his teeth, making you whine before he circled his tongue around it, sucking gently. Your back arched off the bed and you felt his hand slide underneath you, between your shoulder blades, drawing you into his mouth more. He sucked gently, then moved on to the other one, repeating the same ministrations with his tongue.

You panted, mewling with every pinch of his teeth grazing your nipple. He was taking his time with you, as usual, savouring every single part of you. You knew he’d be tired after spending months completing gruelling missions, but he was still eager to pleasure you slowly, work you up until you were begging for a release only he could give.

Exhausted, but never for you.

He released your breast, wetness from his mouth glistening the peak in the dim light. He continued down once again, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he lowered himself between your legs.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with want before he sat back on his heels to spread your legs a little wider, holding the inside of your thighs down with his hands. His thumbs circled the soft skin there as he gazed at you all spread out for him.

He looked beautiful like his. His brown skin illuminated only by the light that managed to creep through the blinds, his tattoo etched down one side of his body which still shined with the water from the shower. His cock was so hard with need, precum already pooling at the tip – you’ve barely even touched him. He was just worked up over touching you, breathing you in. He was average in length, but his thickness set him apart from any other sexual partner you’ve had. You ached to feel it inside you, but if he was taking his sweet time with you, it would be a while before you felt him stretch you.

Hunter was nothing if not thorough.

“Hunter…” you whined, sitting up on your elbows.

“Look so pretty like this,” he told you, not an ounce of insincerity in his tone as he crept down to his elbows, arms wrapping under and around your thighs as he pushed his nose against your centre. He breathed in deeply, and the groan that erupted from the back of his throat buzzed against your core.

“So good…” he murmured as he pushed his nose against your clit, making you jerk. He placed a kiss there before gently bringing it into his mouth to suck. You cry out, hips bucking up into his nose and he moans again before his mouth finally moves over you completely.

You arch your back off the bed as his tongue moves artfully against you. The sensation continued to stoke the fire that had been building the minute he wrapped his arms around you in the shower. You moved your hands to his hair, clutching the roots with your fingers and pushing him closer as he licked and sucked like a man starved. And in a way he was. Your hand was no substitute for this. He licked a line up, before bringing his lips around the bud again and sucking gently. You couldn’t think about anything but his hot mouth and tongue against you. You ground into his mouth, needing more friction as the pleasure began to build in your belly, coiling in hot spirals as Hunter continued. He groaned into you through his ministrations, and when he felt you clench on his tongue, he pulled you impossibly closer to his mouth as he moved his tongue faster. Your breaths filled the room, pants loud and moans echoing in the space. You could feel the mattress move underneath you and you looked down at him with hooded eyes to see him rutting against the mattress, getting off to the pleasure he was giving you.

“Hunter, please, I’m so���” Your words were barely audible, but Hunter knew what you meant as he pressed his tongue harder against you, bringing your clit into his mouth and sucking one more time, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. You cried out, the band inside you snapping as pleasure erupted.

Your back arched and you cried out his name like it was an incantation, over and over as he continued to move his tongue through your undoing, groaning against you as you came all over his tongue. Your hands tight in his hair, you tugged as you shuddered underneath him until the tremors slowed, and you lay breathless, limbs heavy. You looked down at him as he emerged from between your legs, mouth glistening with your come, coating his lips and chin. He licked his lips and groaned. The sight of it was so obscene you felt your body flush.

“Good girl,” he told you before he climbed over you, capturing your mouth in a kiss. You could taste yourself in his mouth and you moaned at the way his fingers briefly dipped inside you. “So good for me,” he told you against your lips. “Always so good.”

“Need you inside me,” you mumbled back.

Hunter groaned and you watched as he drew back to lean on his heels again, using the fingers he’d just brushed through your folds to lubricate his length. He hissed as he circled the tip and down the shaft before he coated his fingers again and slid them in his mouth, sucking them gently with his eyes closed, savouring the taste. You watched him, mesmerised.

Was this man really yours?

He positioned himself at your entrance, holding himself above you with strong arms, face over yours. His eyes were so intense, their brown-grey colour boring into you. He gave you a look, one that differed from the wanting gaze he’d been giving you. This look was one of tenderness, one that asked if you were still good – still okay with this. You nodded and he pressed his lips against yours once more before he eased himself inside you.

You gasped as you stretched around him, clawing at his shoulders as you locked your legs around his. He groaned as he bottomed out, filling you completely. He caught his breath and when you clenched around him, he made a choking sound, swearing.

“Been too long,” he whispered.

“Too long,” you repeated before he drew himself back out slowly. He pushed his nose into your shoulder again as he groaned loudly. Then he slowly began thrusting, the sounds of your moans and groans filling the room, along with the indecent sound of his skin hitting yours as his movements increased in speed.

“Hunter,” you moaned his name, and he groaned in response. His hands found your hips and he adjusted his position so he could reach deeper, and he continued to roll his hips against you, your hands clutching at his forearms as the headboard hit the wall repeatedly.

Sex with Hunter always felt amazing. Full of the kind of passion that almost didn’t feel real. It was full of moans and groans and tantalising touches that built you up and up so when you finally let go, the fall felt so good it was almost immeasurable. It was filled with kisses and though he wasn’t much of a talker, he would whisper how good you felt against him. No matter how rough he was being, you felt safe in his hands and cared for – he made sure of that. Being in the throes of pleasure with Hunter was an all-consuming feeling for you both, one that you relished whenever you got the chance. His time home was so fleeting, that anything you could both do to tell each other how much you missed the other, how much you loved the other, you would do. Later, you would use your words. But right now, your bodies spoke instead; each press, clench, shudder, whimper, and groan said the words for you both.

You could feel those familiar hot coils building again each time he buried himself in you, and you could feel his movements falter slightly as he came closer to his own release. He’d come up from your neck again and you looked up at him, mouth agape as his hair, now half dry, fell over his handsome face and the curled ends tickled your cheeks. You reached up and placed some behind his ear, hand cupping his jaw.

“Hunter—”

Hunter nodded quickly, eyes dark and pupils blown. “I know.”

Of course, he did. His senses were so in tune with your body he could feel the subtle changes of your arousal and smell the way your body was on the precipice of falling.

Hunter’s hands held your hips and the headboard, and he rocked himself into you, faster this time. He panted, a husky noise from the back of his throat sounding with each thrust as he brought you closer. You rasped out a string of yeses as the sensation that had been building rose to its peak. You locked your legs around his thighs, clawing at his back as you clenched hard around him, crying out.

Your back arched into him, fingernails forming crescent moon carvings in the skin of his arms as you shuddered against him. His name fell from your lips as you writhed underneath him, riding out your orgasm as he continued to sink into you on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, cyare,” you whispered to him as you were still trembling. "Still got my implant."

It wasn’t a second later until he gave a ragged cry as he stilled, spilling inside you. His eyes screwed shut and his teeth gritted as he groaned loudly – the way you had heard him through the apartment door before. Half collapsing on top of you, he pushed his face into your shoulder again, this time biting the skin there as his thrusts became languid, drawing out as much of his release as possible. You hissed as his teeth claimed your skin, but no matter how worked up Hunter was, he always made sure his bites weren’t too hard.

When Hunter’s shudders stopped, both of you caught your breath. You could feel his breath tickle your shoulder, and this was the first time since you’d been home that you registered the familiar musky smell of his skin. You smiled and kissed his shoulder while he was still on top of you, the tangy taste of his sweat on your lips.

Hunter slowly emerged from your shoulder and looked down at you, eyelids heavy and hair all tangled. You smiled, still dazed, and reached up to push it out of his face, tucking it behind his ear again. He smiled warmly at you before kissing the inside of your wrist.

He hissed as he pulled out of you, and the loss of him down there was so prominent you felt an ache. Hunter rolled off you and lay beside you on his stomach for a minute, his eyes drooping shut for a moment before he forced them open again.

“Hang on,” he said and kissed your shoulder lightly before pushing himself up and heading into the bathroom. You giggled as you heard the cupboard door open and shut before the tap turned on. You turned on your side, still half-limp, watching him wet a towel and then re-enter the room.

He sat next to you as he wiped between your legs sleepily, the warm towel a gentle caress on your skin before he placed it on the bedside table and lay down next to you.

You smiled and pulled the covers back so you could get under them together. They were damp from your hasty decision to not dry off beforehand, but they would dry as you slept. You watched as Hunter nestled himself in the mattress, eyes closing, but when you didn’t move closer to him immediately, he peeked an eye open. He reached out to you under the covers, with a frown.

“Come,” he said, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“I did. Twice,” you smirked as you let his hands circle your arms and pull you in closer.

“Shuddup,” he slurred, but he still smiled, kissing your temple as he tucked you against his chest. You breathed in the scent of him as you rested your head on him.

You chuckled. “You smell like me.”

“Good. Need to smell like you forever,” he pushed his nose in your hair, taking a deep breath in. “What is the name of this soap, anyway? Gonna place an order.”

You laughed. You loved he was like this – all soft and sleepy after you’d come together. It was a side only you saw, the shedding of that broody exterior he reserved for his service to reveal the tenderness that was a secret for your eyes only. “I think it’s generic brand vanilla and starflower.”

“Smells fucking incredible,” Hunter mumbled, making you laugh again. You kissed his chest and after a moment of silence where all you did was breathe together, he said, “You okay? I didn’t plan to do all that the second I saw you.”

You smiled. No matter how exhausted he was, he always had to check in with you.

“I’m really, really okay, Hunter,” you told him. “There are worse ways to be greeted upon returning home.”

“I at least wanted one conversation with you before I had my way with you,” Hunter murmured in your skin, kissing your shoulder again, this time where he had bitten you, his lips soothing the slight ache there.

“Talking is overrated,” you joked with a shrug, snuggling into his chest. You felt it thrum with a deep chuckle. He knew you loved to hear him talk.

“Tomorrow, we can talk. I have so much to tell you,” he breathed, lips brushing your temple.

You smiled. “Me too. Tomorrow.” You patted his chest gently. “Sleep now, cyare. I know you’re exhausted.”

Hunter hummed, on the cusp of slumber. “Tomorrow.” You felt his body relax. “Love you, cyare,” he mumbled into your hair.

You heard his breathing become deep and even, his chest rising and falling, his heartbeat steady against your palms. You smiled, closing your eyes. “Love you more.”

banner art by @vimse thank you for reading! <3 again, this is my first time writing a full smut scene like this so feedback (delivered kindly) is really appreciated!!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @wenalena @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook

TAGLIST FORM

if you're a regular on my tag list but haven't been tagged, it's bc your age isn't in your bio/have said you prefer sfw fics.

[prettyflyshyguy]

Alright you little shits, you know how it goes. Liveblogging watching Murderbot.

I just slammed the pause button because I heard the first two secconds of the opening scene song, instantly recognised it and got extreemly excited. I know I'm gonna be in for a good time.

Anyway, more under the cut as usual.

Ok I'm not going into this completely blind, but I'm going to try and write this all up with what my first thoughts were as I started seeing clips from this show.

Firstly. The design utterly slaps. It's a great classic sci-fi armored humanoid but there's something deeply unsettling about the helmet itself and the way it's half ringed with one eye hole but it's more off centre its just. Weird. but in a very good way.

the intro sequence IS SO CUTE after severence I'm so excited to see more shows exploring stylistic and thoughtfully animated intro segments, this is so fun, the bit where it's surrounded and then it just fucking nope's out like fuuuuuuuuck that I dont wanna connect with people. I'm dead.

Oh my godddd the COLOURS this show knows how to use colours I am delighted

mmmmmmmmmmmgurathingetinheremmmmmmmmtherewego

this is fucking funny this show is fucking funny hey

Me going bonkers over the colour and aeshetics and the set design like

finally. some good fucking food.

This is tickling me the same way that the Alien franchise does. Like they've gone with a very distinct visual language with the world and I adore it immediately.

THE FIRST HARD JUMPCUT BETWEEN SANCTUARY MOON AND THE SCIENTISTS EXAMINING ROCKS FUCKING KILLED ME

the way it's voice changes from it's normal accent/intonation when it says "stay calm, it'll be ok, you have my word" BITCH i swear to god

love love love love LOVE the camera work on this show when they get funky with their shots

screaming every time its face does this holy shit give this guy an oscar

THE PERFORMANCE EFFICIENCY % GOING DOWN I'M FUCKING CRYING

"SPEECH" or acid bath I CAN'T FUCKING HANDLE THIS HAHAHAHA YOU WERE RIGHT THIS SHOW'S REALLY FUCKING FUNNY

Is this O'Byrnes brother like Hello. I like Gurathin. I like him a lot.

"I need to check the permimeter" IT'S VOICE GBRTAGUILRTHASNI

Ok. Ok. Alright. OK. I get it. It's good. It's pretty good. Onto episode 2.

Ok first of all. Losing it at all the different nicknames for Gurathin. Love that these people all are weird and quirky and so so so human but they all feel so real and fun even once the veneer of satire is peeled back. They really do feel like they're a group with history and that they all know each other well and really care about each other. Reminds me of how I felt at one of my old workplaces. Very real.

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY -- what's the reason that Gurathin doesnt trust the company *eyes emoji* don't actually tell me, I'm sure it'll get explained later, but OOOOO THAT'S AN IMPORTANT PLOT POINT THAT I'M VERY INTERESTED IN

I've already seen this scene before but holy shit it's so much better with the full context

SecUnit can try as much as it might to pretend it doesn't give a shit about these people but there was a tone to that "I am a necessary precaution. Moron."

I love it.

OK HOLD UP. The way Gurathin asks "whats it like to be you?" THERE'S WEIGHT BEHIND THAT. THERE'S SOMETHING THERE. Gurathin went from being completely nervous and shit scared of this thing, insisting everyone else stay away from it, to personally inviting it, ALONE, to have a funny little chat and it really sounds like he's getting vulnerable with it.

Was he augmented without his consent?

This show has no right to have a robot be this fucking funny and relatable

the fucking lip twitch and curl as it says "sex. with humans." I'm weeping

ok back to the serious shit: Gurathin. What's the deal dude. I'm deeply intrigued. Like ok, if this thing is rogue, malfunctioning, whatever, it's got me wondering whats the point in talking to it? Like Gurathin's going for the subtext here, the insistent tone on

"It would be extremely dangerous for everyone involved-"

"Including the SecUnit!"

like if its going to kill you, its going to kill you. I guess he's trying to appeal to a potential internal sense of self preservation? Like don't fuck this up for yourself by messing us up? But it's also weird because he's toying with the sense of what the SecUnit is required to do. It doesnt have to do anything but it choses to comply with orders to avoid being detected as rogue.

I'm fucking dying over here I can't believe SecUnit just hit Gurathin with psychological warfare and it's all like "fuck yeah this guy won't bother me anymore" meanwhile Gurathin's probably like "jesus christ the robots a fucking pervert"

anyway -- I'm really interested in Gurathin's character. There's so much more under the surface there.

Lets switch subjects for a sec. Mensah's panic attacks. This is so dumb but I'm really glad she's stubborn. She's fighting something alone that's incredibly debilitating but she's just burying it and my god if that ain't so real and so relatable. I really like Mensah. I like the entire cast. I feel like each time they get a spotlight I'm going to say this.

OH YEAH BABEY YEAH YEAH YEAH ONCE AGAIN POPPING OFF WITH THE USE OF COLOUR I LOVE IT GOOD FUCKING FOOD

Ok quick note - at the very end of E2 the gang is huddled around a computer trying to ping the other station and Gura is the only one not in close proximity with the group. He's got closer ties to Mensah but he's still clearly pulled in with the gang (the humming huddle and dancing scene in E1) but he self isolates. This is clearly a parrallel to SecUnit as they have a lot in common (SecUnit would deny this of course but we see it) - with the obvious overlap being that they're both to a degree cyborgs. One's just a construct and the other's a modified person.

hahahahahaha HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

YOUR POSTURE

The prevalance of the mental impact of traumatic experiences in this show is catching me off guard. It's nice seeing it expressed so bluntly and so widely amongst the cast. In more front facing ways, we've got SecUnit's comments on Bharadwaj not healing mentally, and then when Gura approaches her his comments on that its an Old Habit, being quiet. Thanks I'm chewing on this.

>Gurathin smelling Mensah's 'pheromones'

No one in this crew is safe from having deep running unresolved issues (both personal AND interpersonal) and I LOVE IT

"I need to check the--munitions."

DEAD. I'M DEAD. I CAN'T TAKE THIS.

"They're amazing on Bloodjust Killjoy!"

"Thanks Ratthi!"

"I didn't know you played that."

"... I don't."

CACKLING. I'M CACKLING. The degree of problems bubbling under the surface in this crew is fantastic. Using a deeply troubled and unhealthy robot to foil a deeply troubled and unhealthy gaggle of humans is ingenious.

EPISODE 4 GIVE IT UP FOR EPISODE 4

GOOD OPENING

thank you Murderbot for expressing something that I often feel I cannot: I also don't think babies are cute.

STOP IT STOP IT STOP I WASN'T READY FOR THIS GAG HOLY SHIT WHO WROTE THIS THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY

gamers I think this might be my favourite episode so far

hglargo;rtjgoal;stjhnio;wrtjhniprhjtopa'rhjp'isrtjhnps'ihtjsi

I'm going fucking bonkers chat episode 4 was insane

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO WAIT UNTILL FRIDAY FOR THE NEXT ONE

the last serialised show I watched was fucking doctor who!

anyway. Holy shit. I love this show. Holy fuck. Holy shit. Oh my god.

[cazzyf1]

My favourite quotes from 'Carlotti Joins the Team' by Mike Hawthorn

"Author's note

This is a fictional story, and something like the notice you used to see on jam jars - 'Real fruit containing a judicious mixture of the juices of other fruit' - which, if you can translate it, means that although many of the racing and technical details are correct, they have been deliberately mixed with fiction. This story tells how a strangley dedicated unpredictable little character entered my life, how he succeeded where so many have failed and why.

Carlotti Smith is a fictional character. He could be you, or you, or you.

Hasta la vista, amigos.

Mike Hawthorn"

"You can be slightly sympathetic when a man, with a bald head and big tummy, buttonholes you and says confidentially:

'Could have been in your shoes myself, old man y'know. Won no end of stuff for trials and sports-car events. Got married though. That was the end of that.'

So you go 'cluck-cluck' and forget to say that some of your toughest competitors are married but they are still racing." P1

-

"I soaked up more sun and incidentally scared the lift out of myself doing fancy tricks on a monster Cadillac job. This car was the pride and joy of an American friend. Everything on it which could be power-assisted was power-assisted, and I'm not sure that it didn't have a kitchen sink and shower-bath somewhere around its massive interior." -p19

-

"Pietro grins at this. I grin back. It's a little private joke between us ever since a comical, freckle-faced character had gate-crashed the équipe caravan on one circuit, pinched some of my driving gear, dressed up in it and announced himself as my co-driver to a couple of pressmen.

Some of these star-struck, would-be racing drivers have quite brilliant ideas of how to draw attention to their ambitions. The result of that little episode was that some of my friends-other racing drivers whose names I will not mention here were impressed by this incident and took much trouble in buying up all the learner plates from the local shops and presenting them to me for future use of my 'co-drivers'." - p22

-

"'Hullo, Mike! Hard luck! It was a close race.'

'Thanks.' There was an embarrassed pause. 'They tell me you've been trying to murder some of us drivers. Is that true?'" - p69

-

'The sort of feeling you get when you know you're sunk. Silly, perhaps, but such feelings often are. Doesn't make them less real to you though' - p74

-

'After this cheerful remark, Carlotti then, calm as you please, began to strip himself to the waist. Pietro watched him with amusement. I'm not sure what sort of expression was on my face, but I seem to remember my mouth came open. There didn't seem any logical sequence to this behaviour. But it soon became apparent.' - p82

-

"'I'll tell you what I'll do,' Carlotti interrupted me and began pulling out his shirt again. 'For Pete's sake, don't undress again!'" - 91

-

"He looked up at me and gave one of the wickedest grins I've ever seen on a character of that age. 'And it'll be tax free too.'

I suppose that last remark just about finished me. I collapsed in the chair and roared with laughter." - p91

-

"Carlotti followed Pam into the kitchen. It was one of those small, turn-around-quickly-and-you-knock-your-head-on-the-sink-whip-round-the-other-way-and-you-bash-your-chin-on-the-gas-stove type of kitchens" - p130

-

"You think I'm making a fuss about this? So do I. That's the annoying part about it. Have you ever spent a while with a pup? Then left it with strangers and seen the expression in its eyes as you departed? I'd seen that sort of expression in Carlotti's eyes when I left him. And he wasn't just a pup." - p142

-

"'For Pete's sake!' I exploded. 'Maybe you mean one's his grandfather, one's his father and the other's his uncle?' I threw him heavy sarcasm.

'Oh no, couldn't be, old boy,' said Bob, quite seriously. 'After all, his name's Smith isn't it?'

I made no comment." - p143

-

"'No offence, Pam, but can't you play dumb?'

'What d'you mean, no offence? I am dumb to even be mixed up in this racing madness. And any-way, one of these Press boys did a "guff" article on me a few weeks ago. Y'know-young woman is business brains while tough he-man brother drives racing cars.'

I grinned. 'Yeah, I read it.'" - p146

-

"'Pam, you carroty-headed cluck! How dim can you get?'

'If that's a statement, I'm insulted. If it's a question, then the answer is-I dunno but I'm trying awful hard. Civil Servants, officials and the like I can deal with, but the Press just freeze me up. Honest, Mike, they scare me witless. You say some simple thing, but when it's printed they've mixed it up so that you sound either clottish or criminal.'

'What I've told you is simple enough.'

'Don't go pompous on me, Mike.'" - p147

-

"As I hung up the handset I thought: Well, that decides it. I'd better... Then I shivered violently and sneezed non-stop for ten minutes. By next morning I'd had it. Or, to be more explicit, I'd got it. Severe chill, fever and what-have-you.

For once the Press were very helpful. They put in a nice neat headline-HAWTHORN ILL. HOPES TO BE FIT FOR GERMAN GRAND PRIX.

Which official news, added to my cable to Carlotti, did genuinely absolve me from a promise. I also was too ill to see reporters. So it's an ill-wind, or something, that blows-sometimes." - p148

-

"Beetle knows I hate coffee, but I agree gravely." - p152

-

"I felt like a schoolmaster facing a boy he knows he can no longer control, who had grown away from him. If only the blighter would stop beaming at me." - p152

-

"'Fine,' Carlotti replied, then his face exploded into a sunburst of happiness. 'I drove her, Mike! I drove the Special! Pietro says I'm a natural!'

'You what!'

I know I yelled. I couldn't help it." - p152

-

"'I'll think about it. Mike?'

'Yes?'

'How do you correct a complete broadside?'

I glared at him. 'I'

I paused for dramatic effect, 'I do not broadside because I learned to drive properly.' I smiled benignly and patted his shoulder. 'I'll go across and see Tony. We'll have another chat later, old man.'

'I'll come with you,' said Pam.

As we turned away I distinctly heard Carlotti say, 'You do, y'know. I've seen you.' I think Pam heard it too because she spluttered a giggle. But I maintained both dignity and silence." - p155

-

"'Have you seen Carlotti?'

Pam and I exchanged looks.

'He has' Pam replied.

'Oh, like that, eh?' Tony observed brightly. 'Who won?'

'Who d'you think! Carlo, of course,' said Pam smugly.

'Why "of course"' I demanded grumpily." - p155-156

-

"Beetle groaned. 'I'm trying to tell you-he ain't driving it around the pits. He's out on the circuit! Someone's got to go after him before he breaks his p-p-perishing neck!'

I leapt up, clonked my head on some shelving and dislodged a cascade of cooking utensils. When the barrage subsided, I yelled:

'Not on this circuit! He's not taking it round the Ring on a brake test?'" - p158

-

"He handed me a vizor as I slid into the cockpit. Pam scuttled up. I'd sprinted far ahead of her from the bus.

'Wait for me, Mike!'

'You can't ride in this.'

'Just to the pits,' she pleaded. 'He might pull in after one circuit.' She hitched herself over my shoulders and hung on as I drove to the area fronting the pits." - p159

-

"'For Pete's sake, what's your father got to do with your helping the little clot to kill himself?'

'My father believed I could swim. So did I. Mama did not. My father took me to the sea and dropped me in.' Pietro shrugged. 'I swim. Carlotti can drive. He is born to drive. You will see.'

I looked at Pam. Her expression must have mirrored my own. But this was no time to start explaining to Pietro that there was a shade of difference in the comparison. For one thing, you don't learn to swim with a roaring, bucking instrument of death in your hands." - p160

-

"It wasn't until we were nearing the Tiergarten and the end of the circuit that I realized I'd been caught once again. Carlotti had achieved his purpose. He was driving a Grand Prix car. He was being taught how to handle it over a tough Grand Prix circuit. And this was Mike the mug doing it!" - p165

-

"Thanks for the lesson, Mike!' I'll swear he yelled that just so the reporters would hear. He stood close to me. I looked down at him as the cameras clicked and whirred. Suddenly I found I'd got my arm around his shoulders. Suddenly I felt proud of him. He looked up at me and I saw a great pride in his eyes too. Not a boastful, arrogant pride. Just a quiet pride that he was sharing especially with me." - p166

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (ao3, xxxi)

(Chapter thirty-one: After a week spent healing, Cassian is still trying to navigate the mating bond whilst struggling to keep his feelings in check.) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

As the early morning sun bathed Velaris in gold, Cassian stood in the centre of the House training ring and watched blood drip from his battered knuckles. 

When he’d entered the ring an hour ago, he hadn’t bothered to wrap his hands. 

And now, he was paying for it. His skin was torn, and each pass of the breeze against his damaged hands was like salt poured into an open wound, forcing a muted hiss to pass between his teeth as his blood pooled in the hollows between his fingers. 

It might have helped, once— the training, the way he skipped through a sequence of moves with nothing but a training dummy as an opponent, his muscles burning with exertion after so long spent idle. But today, the knot of apprehension in his gut stayed, like no amount of physical strain could lessen the weight he carried in his chest.

A week had passed since that day in the library.

Every day since had been the damned same; the sun broke over the mountains only to leave Nesta sitting silent and solemn by Elain’s bedside, all but wringing her hands as Cassian looked on, drifting towards her like he was pulled by something magnetic, keeping his face carefully blank as Elain spent only sporadic moments awake. And when she was lucid enough to speak…

Not yet, she whispered, over and over and over, like something within her had been irrevocably broken when she’d been tossed into that Cauldron. Not yet.

Cassian could have sworn the blood had turned to ice in his veins when he’d first heard it - when he’d knocked on the door to Nesta’s room an hour after she’d all but ran from him in the library, and he’d heard the concern in her voice as she nodded to Elain’s room and asked if he’d ever encountered anything like this before.

He slammed his bleeding fist into the dummy now— sent the frame rattling, precarious. 

For Nesta, Cassian had shrugged. He’d seen thousands of soldiers emerge from battle, he’d told her, and no two of them had ever dealt with the horror they’d endured in the same way. Perhaps, he’d said, this was just Elain’s way of coping. Sealing herself off inside her mind and letting her dreams take over. 

For Nesta, he’d forced the small smile that passed his lips to be comforting and assured, burying every single hint of apprehension even as unease snaked a path through him, something in his bones begging him to back away. 

Because no, he’d never seen anything like Elain Archeron lying still in her bed, talking in riddles.

But Nesta had looked so utterly lost that he’d tried to console her anyway, and even though something deep within him shied away from Elain and whatever it was that she had taken from the Cauldron - because not one part of him thought it was natural, that glazed look in her eyes when she spoke - he forced himself to sit in that room anyway, in a chair the House had left out for him, right beside Nesta’s own. 

He didn’t know what else to do; where else to be other than by her side. 

And every night, when Cassian closed his eyes, all he saw was that look on Nesta’s face— despondent, trying hard to fight the pain, and bowing beneath it as she turned and walked away from him in that library a week ago.

Another punch landed, his blood staining the cotton fabric that made up the dummy’s torso. Above, the sun was bright— blinding, harsh.

It fucking haunted him, whenever he thought of how they’d sat there on that sofa in the library. All the things he’d said about his mother, and she about hers. His father, too.

I don’t think he deserved you anyway.

It had been a moment of such aching vulnerability, when his soul was laid as bare as hers, and in five whole centuries of living, he’d never felt so exposed. He remembered, once, when his armour had been damaged in battle and he’d simply torn the breastplate away, leaving his chest prone to the sharp edge of an enemy blade. Somehow even that didn’t compare to that single conversation in that library. There was no more armour he could don around her now, no more protection he could call on. It had made his heart hurt in a way he’d never known before, and the damn thing only seemed to beat for her now anyway, but…

Cassian had longed to tell her, in that moment, that she might as well have scarred her name right into his chest for all that he belonged to her. 

A brutal snarl ripped from his throat as his fist collided, unforgiving, with the dummy once more, and breathing hard he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back one aching hand, already bruised. 

He loved her. And she wouldn’t let him say it.

And he wasn’t fool enough to think it wasn’t starting to take a toll, spending every day grounded, stuck up here waiting for his body to convalesce whilst he sought, evermore, to strike the right balance between navigating the bond that suddenly felt so much stronger these days, and keeping the damn thing a secret. It was a dangerous line to walk, and if he thought he’d been protective of her before… Gods, now he spent every moment finding some reason to reach out and touch her. To brush his fingers across her shoulder, to hold her hand, to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He’d always been one that needed touch after growing up so starved of it, but it was so much more intense with Nesta.

Everything was so much more intense with Nesta, and yet he had to go slowly, to consider every move in a way that he hadn’t needed to before the Cauldron. 

But with every day that passed, the anger in him seemed to build and even as his body healed, frustration and desperation made a wasteland of the heart inside his chest every time he looked into her face and saw those eyes, distant.

And today… Today was a bad day.

Today felt like breaking point.

The blood smeared across his knuckles was proof of it.

Whatever power it was that Nesta had taken from the Cauldron, they still hadn’t spoken of it.

Cassian had learned to watch the silver in her eyes. To notice when it flared. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that it was only when those eyes were more silver than blue that she’d pull away from him, or that only when her hands grew unnaturally cold did she not want him to touch her. 

There’s something… up with her, Cass.

Rhys’ words from when Cassian had first awoken were never far from Cassian’s mind these days. 

Even the fucking House seemed to be aware of it— responding to her. Twice now Cassian had noticed the House give something when Nesta hadn’t asked for it, and it was odd, he thought, because the House had always been so infuriatingly literal with commands in the past, and yet… only the other day, it had started a fire without instruction when Nesta shivered. Had brought her tea when she seemed to need it.

He’d brushed it off, chalked it up to something strange he didn’t have the capacity to deal with right now, but…

Odd.

With a heavy sigh, Cassian dropped his fists from the training dummy. He shook the tension from his shoulders and stretched his wings until it hurt, feeling the sun’s heat sinking through the sensitive membrane like a balm, a soothing press against injuries that were only almost healed. He tipped his head back and let the same light wash across his face, closing his eyes and stretching his wings as far as they would go. 

He could almost get them to full extension.

Another day or so and he’d be able to start flying again, and as he looked down over the city, he felt his blood thrumming in his veins, simmering with a week’s worth of restlessness. It was hard to shake, that unsteady feeling he got when he’d been grounded for too long. Illyrians weren’t born to be confined, or to keep their feet on solid ground for too long. Cabin fever set in quickly when those that had once tasted the skies had flight robbed from them— it was why Rhys had brought him to the House of Wind to heal, Cassian supposed. Being up so high and being able to taste the wind alleviated some of the frustration, but still. There was too many things Cassian needed to do, and combined with the absolute mess of a situation they were currently in…. Was it any wonder his head was too loud?

He rotated his wrists, loosening the stiffness that had gathered as he’d punched the dummy until his skin split. The wind brushed his cheeks, cooling the heat, and as he looked to the horizon he heard the call of the gulls over the docks, carried to him on the breeze. It still wasn’t enough to calm the tides inside him.

Turning his face, he looked to the smooth rock walls of the House, clay-red against the bright blue sky, and when a shadow darkened the archway that lead inside, for a foolish moment Cassian thought Nesta had come to find him.

For a foolish moment, his heart skipped.

Foolish, because it wasn’t Nesta leaning in the rounded doorway. 

Azriel’s shadows pooled at his feet, like they were loath to slink into the sunlight, and dressed head-to-toe in his habitual black, he might as well have been a void where the light went to die, absorbing the sunlight entirely as he folded his arms and observed the training ring from a distance. 

No long stretch of healing had been required for Azriel. The spymaster had woken from the sleep the healers had put him under and been strong enough to walk about a day later, the poison entirely gone from his system. That had been four days ago, and now Azriel’s gait was smooth and even as he stepped outside, his face blank and impassive as the shadows that had hung in the shadows skirted the edge of the House roof, seeking shade. Only when Azriel was a pace or two away from the painted lines that marked the edges of ring did he speak.

“I spoke to Rhys,” he said, straight to the point, with about as much of a hello as Cassian figured he’d get. “He’s asked me to fly to Cretea tomorrow to see if we can find Miryam and Drakon.”

Cassian scowled at the dummy, fingers flexing as the urge to punch it again gathered like wildfire in his hands. “Let me guess— he wants to ask if their forces could supplement our own.”

Az nodded.

“And he still hasn’t heard anything? About Hybern?”

Grimly, Azriel shook his head. 

Rhys had been monitoring the situation on the continent, trying to figure out the king’s next move, but even though Az’s shadows hadn’t been able to infiltrate Hybern again, the High Lord was already on the defensive, scouting out forces that Cassian might be able to direct in battle. The siphon on the back of his hand glimmered at the thought of the conflict, the promise of warfare, and like Rhys, already Cassian was preparing for the fight ahead. Violence pulsed beneath his skin, searching for an outlet, looking for blood to spill.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t longing for a fight.

And for Nesta… oh, for Nesta he’d take his retribution. Would claw it free. 

The King of Hybern would die at his hand.

Brutal and bloody and slow— he’d never exactly been one for regicide, but this was a death he’d savour. For what he’d done to Nesta, Cassian was going to tear the skin from the bastard’s bones, and he was going to relish every moment of it. 

Sapphire siphons flickered, like the warrior in Azriel could sense the rage in Cassian’s chest plumbing new, wholly-murderous, depths. 

“You alright?” the spymaster asked, his eyes shrewd. He glanced at the blood smeared across Cassian’s knuckles as his shadows skirted the General’s boots. 

Cassian laughed, bitter. “No.”

Az swiped a roll of cotton off the trestle table by the marked edge of the ring, stepping forward, crossing that line, and holding it out for Cassian to wrap his hands. Cassian only shook his head and turned away.

He needed to feel the pain.

“You know that it’s not your fault, Cass,” Azriel said slowly, dropping the hand that held the roll of cotton. 

Cassian didn’t bother to wonder at the way Az had cut right to the heart of what was bothering him. He’d always had an uncanny ability to sense exactly what was wrong, and when he glanced at Cassian’s bloodied fist again, it was like he knew without Cassian needing to say it that the blood he spilled today was spent in the hope that it might wash his hands clean of the blood Hybern had spilled at the Archeron manor that night. 

Cassian’s face darkened as he turned to his brother, his back to the sun. “Yes it is,” he countered. “Of course it is.”

“Then it’s as much my fault as yours,” Az insisted. “I was the one who told you everything was fine, and I was the one who only sent a shadow to Nesta’s house, not Elain’s. I was the one who didn’t fucking know Nesta was staying with her sister.”

“She’s my mate,” Cassian shot back, reducing his voice to a low hiss as he shook his head, sharp. “I promised to protect her. To protect them both. I’m the one that broke that vow, not you.”

Another tortured laugh left him. It didn’t matter that Nesta had all but said she didn’t blame him. Didn’t matter that he’d already had some version of this conversation before, with Rhys. He’d never been particularly good at letting things go. 

“What sort of fucking general does that make me?” he asked darkly, clenching his fists so hard his nails cut into the skin of his palms. “What fucking hope do we have for this war, when we can’t even protect the ones who matter most?”

In the silence Azriel’s face shifted, his eyes burning as he said nothing. He held Cassian’s eye for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them, a kind of understanding only a brother was capable of. And then, still silent, Azriel took off his jacket and began wrapping his hand in the cotton Cassian had forsaken. Cassian only turned back to the dummy, the anger beneath his skin needing an outlet fast, but this time, when he swung his fist, Azriel’s own hand darted out first, catching Cassian’s knuckles in the centre of his palm. The Shadowsinger’s own scarred fingers curled around Cassian’s bleeding fist, his grip tight as he pushed the General back, lowering his chin and widening his stance. 

“It won’t happen again,” Azriel swore. “Ever.”

Determination lined Azriel’s frame, his jaw set with stone-cold purpose as he looked, unflinching and unwavering, at his brother. And suddenly Cassian saw it, the violence that lined every inch of Azriel just as it lined every inch of him. Az didn’t like to be bested, and Hybern had bested them thrice, now. The only difference was that whereas Cassian’s anger was palpable and heavy, Azriel’s was cold and slick, sharpened to a lethal point. 

And both of them, it seemed, were ready to fight it out. 

Az offered him the cotton again, stepping further into the ring. “Wrap your hands,” he said firmly. “I’d rather you not get blood on my shirt.”

Cassian scoffed. “If you’re scared of getting a little bloody, Az, why the fuck are you even here?”

Azriel gave him a sly smirk. “Oh, I won’t be the one getting bloody.”

He shifted, making circles around the inner edge of the ring as Cassian twisted to keep track. His mind quieted entirely, his focus only on sparring now, like Az had known that pummelling the dummy wasn’t enough— had known that this was what Cassian had really needed. 

“Wrap your hands,” Az said again, tossing the roll of cotton across the ring.

With one hand, Cassian caught it. 

Slowly, he wrapped the material around his battered knuckles, and when he was done, when he brought his fists in line with his eyes, Azriel nodded again, dipping his chin before he looked up at the General and, with a feral grin, said,

“Let’s go, then.”

***

It wasn’t just Cassian’s knuckles that were bruised and bloody when they were done.

Both the General and the Spymaster were breathing hard, a thin sheen of sweat slicking both of their foreheads. As Cassian absently rubbed a hand over a rib that Azriel had landed three good punches to, Az filled two glasses with the water from the carafe the House had delivered to them. Already beneath the Shadowsinger’s jaw, a bruise was beginning to turn purple. 

“Better?” he asked as he passed off one glass of chilled water into Cassian’s sore hands.

Cassian drank deeply, hardly pausing long enough to nod in answer. The fight had smoothed the sharpest edges of his temper, and though it still felt like tides were raging inside his chest, it was more bearable than it had been that morning, at least.

Idle, Az leaned a hip against the low trestle table set against the wall. 

“Nesta’s hurting now,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and careful, “but when the dust settles…”

Cassian stiffened. Already he knew exactly what it was that Azriel was about to say, could tell by the way his brother lifted his brows with something like sympathy, his eyes holding nothing but the truth as he tilted his head. But Cassian didn’t want to hear it— never wanted to hear it. 

“Cass,” Az continued quietly, “isn’t this all you wanted?”

Cassian slammed his glass down.

“No,” he said flatly, definitively, leaving no room for argument.

Mother bless him, Az backed off without another word, raising his palms in surrender.

“Alright,” he said, but his tone made it clear that he didn’t quite believe him, and Cassian couldn’t even fucking blame him, because suddenly he thought back to Mor, and the tear that had slipped silent down her face at the cabin in Windhaven when she’d told him about the human she’d once loved. The human she’d lost. The grief had been written all over her, and Cassian had felt a sinking in his gut when he looked at her and had to wonder if he was looking at what, exactly, the future held for him. 

And all those nights he’d spent fearing a life without Nesta in it... they were meaningless now. 

But he couldn’t say it out loud.

Would never say it out loud.

Az cleared his throat, letting his shadows gather at his wrists before finally letting his hands drop. He tilted his head back, took a deep breath as he filled his lungs with the morning air.

“Rhys said he’s coming up for dinner tonight, by the way,” he said, changing the subject in a move that Cassian was grateful for. “Mor and Amren, too.”

Cassian only nodded again, a silent acknowledgement as he straightened the leather half-gauntlet that housed the siphons on the back of one hand.

“Will you ask Nesta to join us?” Az asked. 

Cassian lifted his eyes, hesitating as he looked up at his brother from beneath a bunched brow. As if it were that simple— as if it were an invitation Nesta might somehow accept. He was already certain that he knew her answer and knew it would be a resounding no, and it must have shown on his face because Azriel let out a gentle sigh as he pushed off the table.

“Rhys mentioned that Mor wasn’t…” He trailed off, took another weary breath. Around his wrists, his shadows tightened, grew darker.

“Nesta’s number one fan?” Cassian supplied.

Az nodded grimly. “Mm.”

“She needs time,” Cassian said, his voice strained. Tired— he was so fucking tired, and he thought that Azriel must have known, because the Shadowsinger clapped him lightly on the shoulder as he plucked up his jacket, already preparing to leave. With a small smile, Az said,

“Ask her about tonight.” His tone was soft, a source of gentle encouragement. “Even if you know her answer. Ask her anyway.”

***

“I must say,” Amren said dryly, swirling the liquid in her glass as beyond the wide windows of the House dining room, the sun sank behind the mountains, “after everything Feyre told us, I was rather looking forward to finally meeting the eldest Archeron tonight.”

Seated off to her right, Mor flicked her eyes to the ceiling, pausing briefly as she cut into a slice of roasted chicken. “Perhaps you should’ve been the one to take her clothes, then,” she muttered, her elegant fingers tightening around her knife as she tossed her head back. 

Across the table, Cassian’s lip curled, a quiet snarl slipping between his teeth as, too late, Mor clamped her lips together. Avoiding his piercing stare, Mor busied herself by plucking up her wine, and even though some kind of guilt flickered briefly across her face, Cassian wasn’t fool enough to expect an apology. As predicted, Nesta had declined the invitation to dinner out of fear of leaving Elain, but as Cassian glanced between Mor and Amren now, he thought it was probably for the best that she’d decided to sit this one out. The words thrown to the wolves seemed to come to mind. 

Beside Mor, Rhys rolled his star-flecked eyes. 

“How are they? Nesta and Elain?” he asked, leaning back in the very same chair he’d occupied the first night he’d brought Feyre here. A deliberate choice, no doubt, and consciously or unconsciously, none of the rest of them had chosen to sit in the chair Feyre had that night, leaving the space to Rhys’ right conspicuously empty. 

Cassian shook his head as he poured himself a generous glass of wine. “Elain is awake, but she’s not exactly present. She speaks in riddles.” The table was silent; Amren’s face was more curious than anything, but Rhys’ eyes were dark with concern. Cassian forced himself to clear his throat, taking a large sip of wine before he continued, knowing that the words he was about to speak were ones he hadn’t yet found the strength to voice in front of Nesta. “I— don’t know how much the Cauldron affected her mind.”

Grim silence answered him. 

“And Nesta…”

Where did he even begin?

Nesta was exactly who she had been the first time he’d met her, a maelstrom of rage and fury that she tried so hard to contain and conceal. Every time he looked at her, he saw the pain limning her features, exactly the way it had that day in her father’s estate, when he’d stayed behind as Rhys and Az had brought down the Attor. The woman who had pulled away from him in the library was the one that had been so angry that first night in her father’s dining room, and only when she lowered her guard now did Cassian catch a glimpse of the Nesta that had, until recently, clung to him and let him see the sides of her she kept so deeply hidden. 

It killed him to think she’d gone back behind her walls, drawn a line in the sand that he could only occasionally cross. 

Rhys scowled. “Nesta is Nesta.”

Cassian set down his wineglass with a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

His brother sighed, waving a hand in a gesture so weary it might have given Cassian pause had Rhys said literally anything else. “Come on, Cass. She’s entirely Illyrian in spirit.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cassian said, his voice low, just a shade shy of combative. Beside him, Azriel’s shadows had skittered up his master’s arms to wreathe his shoulders in darkness, like they could sense the fight brewing beneath Cassian’s skin and had flocked to Az like armour.

But the Shadowsinger himself had stilled, too. 

Still staying at the House of Wind, Azriel had been the only other member of Rhys’ Inner Circle besides Cassian to make a fucking effort with the eldest of Feyre’s sisters. Cassian had even entered the private library the other day to find Nesta and Azriel sitting in companionable silence on opposite ends of one of the largest couches, a book held in each of their hands. Neither of them had looked up as Cassian entered, but Az’s shadows had skirted along the edge of the couch, and Cassian hadn’t said a word as he strode past them, knowing that Nesta would have his head if he disturbed her reading. He’d only touched her shoulder lightly as he passed, heading for the other end of the library.

“It could be a bad thing,” Rhys pointed out dryly, dragging Cassian out of his thoughts and doing nothing to calm the temper that was building like a storm within his veins. “We still don’t have any idea what power she came out of that Cauldron with.”

At that, Amren leaned forward in her chair at the head of the table, setting down her glass containing something that didn’t look even the slightest bit like wine. Her sharp eyes glinted, reminding Cassian of the birds of prey that hunted deep in the Illyrian mountains.

“You should find out what exactly she can do with that silver in her eyes. Start training it.”

Cassian whipped his head towards her. With Rhys opposite him and Amren off to his side, he couldn’t help but feel cornered. 

The ancient fae only sniffed delicately and dragged a gold-ringed finger around the rim of her glass before adding, “I’ll train her myself, if you don’t want to get too close to whatever it is that she stole from the Cauldron.”

“Mother knows what might happen if she doesn’t train it,” Rhys contributed, his eyes dark and troubled. “She needs to learn how to control it—“

“Or maybe we should just give her the time she needs to figure things out for herself first,” Cassian growled, his words slipping through teeth so tightly gritted it was a wonder he could open his jaw at all. “You’re asking her to run way before she can walk.”

Amren hummed. “She’ll need to run, boy, if Hybern reaches these shores.” Her lips split in a smile that showed her teeth. “Why waste time waiting for her to come to terms with that power, when what we need is for her to bring death and destruction raining down on our enemy?”

“She is not your fucking weapon.”

“Not yet,” Amren shrugged.

Cassian snarled again, the anger a living thing beneath his skin, a second pulse that had his heartbeat starting to quicken. 

It had never bothered him before, when Amren spoke about him like he was only as good as the number of punches he could throw, or only as worthy as the number of legions he could lead. But when she turned that same perspective on Nesta…

Rhys was silent.

Cassian wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly why Rhys had sat in that chair tonight. It was a deliberate attempt at remembering another dinner, another time. But Cassian couldn’t sit back and think of better times whilst Amren and his brother spoke of his mate like she was some kind of tool to be utilised. 

“Don’t do this,” he said darkly, the fury sinking into his blood, calcifying in his bones until it was solid and silent, but no less potent. His eyes were hard when he looked at his brother, met those violet eyes and refused to look away. “Using her like a weapon— now that’s entirely Illyrian in spirit.”

Rhys’ eyes guttered, the few stars that had shone there swallowed as Amren pursed her lips. 

Midnight claws brushed against the defences in Cassian’s mind; a silent plea for entry.

I’m sorry, Rhys murmured when Cassian dropped his shield, saying nothing as his brother’s voice echoed, guilt-ridden, inside his mind. I know I said I’d back off, but with Feyre still in Spring and us still no nearer to knowing what exactly Hybern is planning to do…

Cassian met his brother’s eye across the table. 

I know, he answered. I’m just as fucking exhausted with all this as you are. But don’t forget, Rhys, that Feyre might be your mate, but Nesta is mine. I won’t push her to do anything she doesn’t want to. These powers, whatever they are… she’s fucking terrified of them.

Rhys lowered his chin, having the good sense to at least look chastened. The silent conversation hung between them, heavy, but Cassian kept the memory of Nesta all but fleeing that library locked behind his shield, refusing to think of the way she’d looked so broken. Rhys said nothing more, like for once he couldn’t quite find the words, and Cassian had nothing else to say either. There was nothing else left.

And then Azriel - Mother bless him - cleared his throat.

“Well, whatever her power is, the House certainly seems to like Nesta more than any of us, now,” he said lightly. 

Rhys frowned, straightening as he severed the mental bridge that connected him to Cassian. “The House isn’t sentient.”

Cassian settled back in his chair. Took a breath. Took several. When he lifted his wine to his lips and drank deep, he forced himself to calm as he looked at his brother and said,

“I don’t know. We might have always thought so, but…”

Az hummed. “Even I’ve noticed it, the past couple of days.”

“Noticed what?” Mor asked, the bracelets at her wrists singing as she linked her fingers beneath her chin, resting her elbows on the table’s polished surface. 

“It seems to anticipate what she needs— what she wants,” Azriel answered. 

Az had been there, in the private library, when the House had delivered Nesta a fresh cup of tea when the one she already had had gone cold. Cassian had been by the window, looking out longingly over the city, wanting to feel the wind beneath him, when Nesta had looked up in surprise. Azriel had quirked a brow, asked her if she had somehow found a way to communicate with the House silently, but Nesta had simply shrugged and said the House seemed to just… know what she wanted. Az had met Cassian’s eye curiously, and Cassian had frowned as he tilted his head, but ultimately they had both moved on because… well, what explanation did they have?

Rhys’ face turned contemplative. “You’re telling me the House’s magic is changing?”

In tandem, both Cassian and Azriel shrugged.

“It’s possible, I suppose.” Rhys trailed off, tapping a finger against his chin as he mused. “Whatever power she’s been given… It does feel familiar to me, somehow. Perhaps the House has... latched onto her. The High Lord that spelled it so many years ago may have had a similar power to whatever Nesta’s is. Perhaps the House can sense it.”

Cassian shrugged again. Perhaps Rhys was right— perhaps that was all it was, similar magics reacting to one another. But silently he couldn’t help but wonder if the House hadn’t also begun to sense how great Nesta’s power was, and had already begun to yield to her. Or was that just because he’d been yielding to her every day since he’d met her?

Mor flicked her gleaming blonde hair over her shoulder as she waved a hand. “This is entirely too serious a topic for such a nice dinner,” she declared, raising her glass. “Let’s just thank the House for such good wine and leave it at that, sentient or not.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “It’s still my wine the House brings up from the cellars, you know. How often do you thank me?”

Mor only brushed him off, practically shooing him with a flick of her fingers that had her rings clinking against one another like chimes. “I thank you plenty,” she countered. “You get to enjoy my delightful company, and isn’t that recompense enough?”

Rhys snorted.

Even Amren smirked a little, and with the banter that came so naturally between them lightening the atmosphere, the tension that had, only a moment ago, been a noose around Cassian’s neck loosened. In good-natured disagreement, Rhys rolled his eyes again, nudging Mor with an elbow in the ribs that she dodged so neatly the wine in her glass barely even sloshed. And just like that, the mood shifted.

“Anyway,” the blonde said brightly, steering the topic and leaning forwards until both elbows rested on the table. “How are the wings holding up, Cass?”

She nodded to the wings at his back, the membrane soaking up the warmth from the fireplace behind him. Wordlessly, Cassian stretched them until he could take no more, managing to get them only an inch away from full extension before he grimaced and let them rest again. Mor’s face was contemplative, and though she smiled softly to see how much he had healed already, there was something else in her eyes too— a spark in her eye that Cassian hadn’t seen for a while. 

“How long till you can fly normally again?” she asked, her tone one that was casual on the surface, but one that he’d long since learned meant she was up to something.

“Too long,” Cassian grumbled in answer. 

“A month at least, I bet,” Mor said, those familiar eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d stake six gold coins on it.” 

She turned her attention to Azriel, a quirk of one perfect brow matching the curve of her lips as she grinned in silent question.

The Shadowsinger hummed, contemplative as he glanced sidelong as his brother. “Three weeks,” he countered, laying a hand on the table. “Ten gold coins.”

Mor snorted, but nodded once before extending a hand for Azriel to shake. Cassian looked on, wry amusement pulling the tension from his bones, and when Az looked at him and muttered, darkly, you’d better be back flying a hundred leagues a day within three weeks, Cassian let out a dry laugh and shook his head.

“Pricks,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you’re betting on this.”

Az shrugged. “You’d do the same.”

And Cassian said nothing, because Azriel was right. He fucking would— had made his fair share of stupid bets on his friends over the centuries. So he couldn’t argue as Mor sank back into her chair with a grin. He only rolled his eyes and raised his middle finger. 

Mor laughed, and Azriel’s lips split into a small smirk as, at the head of the table, Amren drank from her cup and rolled her eyes with something like indulgence as Rhys sat back and watched them.

And for a moment Cassian might have been able to convince himself that it was fifty years ago— that they were back up here before the curse had torn them apart, laughing the way they used to, the city at their feet, the stars in the sky gleaming down on them as they depleted Rhys’ wine cellar.

But then he thought of Feyre— of Nesta.

He glanced to the door.

It might have been fifty years ago, but for the shadows under Rhys’ eyes that were proof of how much Feyre had forever altered the high lord.

Might have been fifty years ago, but for the way Cassian kept glancing to the door, the bald hope on his face that he’d see her the proof of how much Nesta had forever altered him.

And still he looked. He laughed, and he drank with his brothers, and still he looked.

And he waited.

Taglist: @asnowfern @podemechamardek @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @starryblueskies7 @melphss @sv0430 @that-little-red-head @misswonderflower @fwiggle @tanishab @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard @hiimheresworld @wannawriteyouabook @hereforthenessian @valkyriesupremacy @kale-theteaqueen @moodymelanist @talkfantasytome

[ckneal]

So, when watching the Miraculous Ladybug season 5 finale, I assumed that the woman seen sunning herself next to Nathalie in the ending sequence was Emilie, and still think that was the case. This is mainly because I know that animators will often associate characters with specific color schemes so that they could use those colors as a shorthand for identifying characters in situations like this. Emilie and Amelie have matching suits, but the colors of Emilie’s are pink and black, just like the bathing suit that the woman next to Nathalie wears, whereas Amelie’s suit is black and gray.

Although, in the spirit of fairness, it is worth mentioning that there have been times when the gray parts of Amelie’s suit have appeared pink due to the lighting of the scene. And, realistically, there are plenty of reasons for Amelie to be there. Felix is there, and while we have seen him use his powers to get to France alone as Argos, he usually travels as a civilian in his mother’s company. And depending on what arrangements Gabriel made for Adrien’s care, Amelie might be his new legal guardian. What’s to say she didn’t just borrow one of her sister’s swimsuits for the party when she found the horde of old clothes Gabe probably had stashed away in a closet somewhere?

It's all fair game, and we’ll only really know for sure when season 6 arrives.

But that said. While I do believe that the woman next to Nathalie is Emilie, I have to admit that there would be so much more humor to mine from her being Amelie.

After all, Adrien has never had to deal with an actual caring parent while trying to be Chat Noir. Amelie appears to be an actual loving mother. She and Felix have such an open and supportive relationship with one another, that he seemingly made no attempts to hide his super identity from her. She’s even participated in his plans, going off the episode where she charged into the Diamond Ball and made a scene. There’s no reason to think that she would have a problem with Felix continuing to be Argos. She knows how capable her son is. And ignoring all the questions surrounding why she would suddenly upend her life in England and move to Paris to raise Adrien around all the friends he made during his one year of public school, imagine how annoying this could get for Adrien. Felix is just out as a superhero in their household. Amelie jokingly asks Felix to introducer her to all of his superhero friends over dinner. Meanwhile, Adrien's still keeping a secret identity, and dodging questions about how he spends his time.

Paris is under attack, and Amelie is waving her son off to join Ladybug and her team, while Adrien is trying to find some way to slip away before she activates the mansion’s defense system that we saw in season 2, only to find himself cornered by Amelie, wanting to know how he’s handling the news that someone has taken up the Hawkmoth mantle after Gabriel gave his life helping Ladybug defeat him. Adrien might even start trying to smooth down his hair and impersonate Felix in order to sneak out unnoticed, only to realize he’d drastically underestimated how in sync his aunt and cousin are when Amelie looks at him and says “What’s the codeword?”

Adrien, not wanting to risk any trace of surprise or frustration seeping into his voice and giving him away, just raises an eyebrow, while Amelie, who had been worried sick after Adrien disappeared during the last city-wide emergency, crosses her arms.

“The codeword that we decided on this morning to keep Adrien from pretending to be you to go out and put himself in danger, sweetie. What is it?”

[madlad-sadgal]

More things I noticed in Nimona because I got boredin.

Nimona Spoilers!

Diamonds seem to be a recurring form when it comes to the Institute, which we see most when in the Director's office. There's a line of diamonds that goes from the top to the bottom of her dress. The windows are diamonds. There's a diamond at the tip of her staff. There's a diamond sculpture thingy on her desk. There's a line of diamonds on the side of her desk. Ambrosius also has a a lot of diamonds on his armor. The button the Director presses to open the secret drawer is part of a line of diamonds. The Director's eye shine is a diamond, and so is Bal's when he's about to be knighted, about to become an official part of the Institute, only to have that taken away from him.

I hear a lot of people say that they don't understand why Bal didn't post the whole video, but we have to take in consideration here: When he and Nimona thought up that plan, in no way did they think that the Director would actually try to kill Ambrosius. And, also, Nimona-Ambrosius and Ambrosius both enter the office by saying the same thing "We need to talk". Bal probably spent hours telling them how Ambrosius acted just to fool the Director. Just imagine: you see someone who looks and acts exactly like the one you love get stabbed out of absolutely nowhere. You know it's not them, but there's still that small second of "What the fuck my lover is getting stabbed!" I doubt he was able to keep the camera still through all that. I saw another post talk about it, and I can't find it, but yeah.

Also, back to Ambrosius' armor, I was able to count three lion faces on it. One on the front of his chestplate, and one of each of his shoulder protector thingys (I don't know the name of it)

Sure, when Nimona-Ambrosius destroys everything in the Director's office, it's funny, but they also foreshadow one more thing; destroying the wall. Also, they remove Gloreth's statue at the same time, and, at the end, when Bal is looking over the kingdom, we don't see the statue in question anywhere, which could maybe insinuate that they actually did canonically took it down? I may be looking into this too much, but it's fun to think that's what it might mean.

The sight Bal uploads the video is called "TheCrier". Also, when he uploads it, on the screen behind the computer, you can see he was previously ordering a pizza.

Bal's username is BalliSTAR12 and honestly I'm surprised no one in the kingdom thought to question why this man even had a video of this. That is if they even realized that it was him because let's be honest, the people of the realm are oblivious to a lot of stuff throughout the movie.

For a brief second, you can see that the username of one of the people who commented is "Rising_Pho3nis_23" and that just makes me realize how much foreshadowing these people included throughout the whole movie.

We see at some point that the first riot at the Institute was filmed when, at 57:59, in the recommended videos someone is watching, the top one is "Rhino runs riot at the Institute"

"I just want to be your friend. Is it ever gonna be enough?" Those are the only lyrics I was able to catch from the dance sequence, but those hit hard when you realize that Nimona is really just looking for a friend. And also that even with Nimona and Bal's efforts to prove that the Institute is bad, there efforts weren't enough (because the Director just turns the blame on them again)

When Nimona-Director is on the other side of the door with the pizza, their eyes do the reflection thing with the lighting.

During the scene where we see the civilians gathered in front of the Institute and yelling things like "Liar" and holding up sign that say "Villain" and "Liar" we see the statue of Gloreth standing in front of all of them bathed in red light, and it's almost like all of those things are being yelled at her.

"Zombies are immortal eternal beings. There's no way to kill them." "But what if they come for us?" *Attacks the zombies* Funny how fear drives them attack first, just like fear drove the villagers to attack Nimona first.

When the Director tries to warn everyone of Nimona, the "monster", she accidentally puts everyone against everyone, and, as we see in the pub, everyone starts to mistrust the people around them.

I have a theory as to why Nimona was painted as child in the scroll: It was to serve as a warning. It was to show that this "monster" could try to manipulate you into thinking it was harmless by becoming something that doesn't pose much of a threat: a child.

Nimona saying "I have not slept like that in forever." Who else thinks it's because they used to always have their guard up and was always a light sleeper in case they needed to flee quickly? Like, they didn't want to put themselves in a vulnerable position too long so they got used to getting maybe one or two hours of sleep every now and then.

I'll stop there for now. Might make more if y'all like this!

[cha-melodius]

Fic Pride Weekend

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

@kiwiana-writes tagged me for "Fic Pride Friday" but let's face it, no one is actually doing this on a Friday anymore and Fic Pride should go the whole weekend.

So I decided to try to give some superlatives—my favorite action sequence, my favorite kiss, my favorite love confession, my favorite comedy moment, etc etc. But the problem was I came up with a LOT of superlatives! Oh well. A few up top, and the rest below the cut. Oh, and there are some spoilers below, so be warned!

Favorite Shouted Love Confession: Love is a Losing Game

“Then what, Illya?” Napoleon demands sharply, frustration heating his face. “What exactly was the problem?” “I love you, Napoleon!” Illya nearly shouts, the words ringing loudly in quiet of the club, and the silence that follows is only broken by Illya’s ragged breaths as Napoleon stares at him in shock. Illya closes his eyes, as if trying to steady himself, and when he opens them again the raw vulnerability in them is startling. “I love you,” he says again, with something like resignation in his voice, “and when they told me you quit I thought I would never see you again, and— and that was not something I could bear.”

Favorite Action Sequence (Duo): This Hell of a Season

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the headlamp rapidly approaching. He’s not sure if it will be fast enough. Henry watches as the dark shape of the man, little more than a shadow under the meagre moonlight, shifts slightly out from behind the hedges again. A few more shots, fired near where the shadow lurks, buys Henry some time, but Alex’s approach feels impossibly slow, as if he were travelling through treacle. One heartbeat passes. Two. Three. Four. The motorbike gets close enough to bathe Henry in a wash of yellow-tinted light; he’s now far too tempting a target, and the man shifts out from behind his cover again. Alex nearly puts the bike on its side as he skids into a stop, cutting the lamp at the last minute and plunging them into darkness. “Here!” he yells, and Henry flings himself in his direction, nearly blind after the brightness of the headlamp.

Favorite Action Sequence (Solo): A Good Man is Hard to Find

Pulling a rope off his belt, Mobius ties it securely around the empty window frame then measures out what he guesses is the right length before attaching the other end to his belt again. On the other side of the table, the guards have stopped firing, but he has no doubt they’ll be advancing on him now that they’ve realized that he’s not shooting back. He’ll need to stand up to be able to jump out far enough, which unfortunately means making an easy target of himself for at least a few seconds. He peeks around the table and sends a couple of bullets toward their feet, which succeeds in making them scatter and retreat backwards. Then, holding onto the window frame for support, Mobius takes a deep, steadying breath and rises to his feet. In the second before he jumps, the guards start shooting at him again and a bullet tears through the outside of his upper arm, but he barely feels it past the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He launches himself out as far as he can until he feels the rope snap tight at his belt, punching the breath out of his body. The line starts swinging him in an arc down toward the window, and he twists wildly as he tries desperately to orient himself in the air. Just before he smashes into the huge sheet of plate glass, he manages to fire twice into it and, in a rain of glass, crashes back into the building two floors down. The shouts of the guards are audible from above, as is the sound of running feet; no doubt they’re already heading back down the stairs. Mobius scrambles up and over toward the delivery entrance where he and Sylvie first came in, smearing the blood that’s dripping down his arm along the floor and doorway in a trail. Satisfied at the feint, he takes off toward the utility room and gets through the door, closing it carefully behind him.

Favorite Car Chase: The Hardest Cut (continues from here, hard to put the whole thing in!)

They turn again, away from the courthouse, and Mobius can unmistakably feel the horrible cocktail of adrenaline and dread that floods into his veins. Loki doesn’t answer his question, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel as he stares fixedly out the windshield, knuckles going painfully white. “You’re starting to worry me, you know,” Mobius says with a nervous chuckle, like it’s a joke. “Little heads up on what we’re doing would be great right about now.” Finally, Loki glances sideways at him—once, twice, then a third, lingering look—then he takes a deep, shuddery breath like he’s coming to a decision. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears emphatically, then jerks the wheel hard to the right, sending them fishtailing into a wild skid and down an alley that looks entirely too narrow. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”

Favorite Moment of Slapstick Comedy: The Makings of a Perfect Christmastime

Waverly, on the other hand, looks surprisingly unperturbed. “Oh, I know,” he says, incredibly. “Because what it looks like is that my war hero is playing home-wrecker to my star author’s marriage.” He looks pointedly at Illya, who’s mouth opens wordlessly as he flushes a deep scarlet, before his gaze slide back to Napoleon. “But that’s not actually what’s happening here, is it?” Napoleon’s mind is whirring as he tries desperately to figure out what the hell is going on, but before he can think of anything that might offer some kind of reasonable explanation, the door to the kitchen opens again. “I’m hoping that the fact that you didn’t come back to the room means you were getting laid and not in here cooking all night,” Gaby says as she comes in, so focused on the coffee that she doesn’t even see Waverly standing off to the side. For a moment, no one moves, until she turns with a mug of coffee in her hand, spots Waverly, and proceeds to drop it on the floor.

Favorite Wrestling Scene: Double Dutch with a Hand Grenade

Two can play, and all that, and he is not having this conversation on his back. Not when Illya has been seemingly holding all the cards to this point. He cants his hips under Illya—slowly, deliberately—and is gratified when his partner’s eyes go wide. More importantly, the distraction makes his grip on Napoleon’s wrists loosen. Napoleon yanks his hands down, out of Illya’s hold, then slams the heel of his palm hard into his sternum. Illya grunts in pain and surprise, shoulders curling inward, which gives Napoleon enough of an opening to grab the front of his t-shirt and roll them both sideways until Illya’s back thunks hard against the mat. It’s Illya’s turn to glare up at him, still grimacing. Napoleon has effectively reversed their positions, pinning Illya’s wrists to the mat over his head, though he hasn’t managed to secure his lower body. Instead, Illya’s legs are wrapped around his waist, preventing him from maneuvering or getting any better leverage for a subsequent attack. Of course, that also means Illya’s legs are wrapped around his waist, which is something he’d been valiantly trying not to imagine ever since that encounter at the café. So much for that. Neither of them is completely in control of this situation, and it’s rapidly starting to seem like that’s true in more ways than one.

Favorite Emotional "Confession": Please Don't Let Me Be So Understood

“Yeah, I mean, it hurts,” he says with a nonchalant shrug he’s pretty sure doesn’t land. He wants to ask, ‘what makes me different? why are you friends with everyone but me?’, but that would give up the game for sure. Instead, he aims for something close. “Sometimes it feels like you’re more distant with me than with other people at the office.” “You’re right,” Henry replies with shocking matter-of-factness. “Casual friends are easy, Alex. There’s no risk when you don’t want anything more from someone than the ability to hold a five minute conversation over coffee in the break room. It’s different when it’s… someone you might truly care about. You’re different.” Alex doesn’t really know what to do with that. It’s quickly becoming difficult to tell where the lies end and the truth begins. “Oh,” he says, floundering a little. “I guess I can see that.”

Favorite Flirty Email: Class(room) Warfare

To: Alexander Claremont-Diaz <claremontdiaz@mcquiston.edu> From: Henry Fox-Mountchristen <foxmountchristen@mcquiston.edu> Subject: Re: your shirts Dr. Acerbic Cocky-Disaster I am quite certain you’ve never given anyone a break in your life. Regretfully, Henry Assistant Professor of What Did I Do To Deserve This

Favorite Seductive Spoon-licking (yes, I have more than one): All the Old Showstoppers

Locating a clean tasting spoon, he scoops a bit of the buttercream out of his mixer and holds it out to Alex across the top of his station. Their fingers brush when Alex reaches out to take it, and an image of Alex holding a very similar spoon up to his lips flashes through Henry’s mind. His mouth goes slightly dry at the memory, and that’s before Alex proceeds to stick the spoon deep into his mouth and draw it slowly out between his lips. Alex’s low hum, which skirts dangerously close to a moan, is somehow audible over the buzz of activity in the tent, and his eyelids flutter slightly as his pink tongue slips out to lick the back of the spoon in a manner that is far too seductive for their current setting. Who could have guessed that giving Alex a spoon would be such a massive mistake? Because Henry can see a camera currently filming them out of the corner of his eye, but he still can’t seem to force his own bloody mouth closed, nor can he hope to control the flush that is no doubt painting his cheeks a rather lurid pink, if he knows himself. The best he can hope for is that he just looks stunned rather than incredibly turned on by the display before him. “Ok, yeah, that’s good,” Alex says, snapping him out of the daze he finds himself in. He grins, and the mischief sparkling in his eyes is enough to make Henry believe he did that on purpose. “Guess you’re gonna make things hard for me, huh Wales?”

Favorite Movie Adaptation Moment: False Dichotomy

“Sometimes I wonder,” Alex says, staring up at the leaves fluttering in the breeze over the sidewalk. “If you hadn’t been Mountchristen, and I hadn’t been Under the Rainbow Books…” “Alex,” Henry breathes, a little unsteadily. Alex keeps going because he is, as previously established, an idiot. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Henry, though. “Maybe I’d have gotten up the courage to ask for your number.” “I’d have asked for yours,” Henry says firmly, surprising him. That does make Alex turn back toward him again. “That first day in the shop. Wouldn’t have been able to wait even twenty-four hours before asking you out to dinner.” “We’d never have been at war,” Alex continues. “The only thing we’d fight about is what to watch on Saturday night.” “Only because you have terrible taste in Star Wars movies,” Henry teases.

Favorite Angsty Kiss: So Close to Something Better Left Unknown

Alex hesitates a moment too long for it not to be an answer. Henry’s eyes are dark and wild with primal desire and something else, something more terrifying than even that, and Alex murmurs, “It doesn’t matter.” “Alex—” Alex turns in his arms and drags him into a kiss that catches like dry tinder, lighting such an inferno under his skin that Alex feels like he’s the one who’s been drugged. This is a fucking mistake, he thinks desperately, then his mind goes blissfully blank as Henry’s tongue slides into his mouth. It’s rough, demanding, as much as sparring match as a kiss, particularly when Henry sinks a hand into his hair and tugs hard, then bites down on Alex’s lower lip when he gasps as stars burst in his vision. Alex gives as good as he gets, though, finally getting his teeth on those sinful fucking lips and swallowing Henry’s answering moans.

Favorite Almost Kiss: White Knuckles

When he comes out of his last spin, Napoleon joins him for the final movements, an expansive trip across the ice that usually ends with Illya hunched over, almost on one knee, as if clutching an apparently dead Juliet. Now, though, there is an actual body in his grasp: Napoleon is underneath him, back bent into a graceful arc, being held off the ice only by Illya’s grip on his hip and his palm splayed between his shoulder blades. As the music comes to its grand conclusion he meets Napoleon’s eyes, and suddenly Napoleon doesn’t seem so unaffected anymore. He’s certainly breathless, all right, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted, and it would be so easy for Illya to flex his arms and draw him upward until their lips meet. Illya considers it a true testament to his self control that he doesn’t do it. “Wow,” Napoleon breathes, after a long moment in which he has made no move to disentangle himself from Illya. Then one corner of his mouth quirks upward into a smirk. “Now that’s more like it.” It is also a testament to Illya’s self control that he doesn’t drop him on the ice.

Favorite Cliffhanger: Nova, Baby

A couple of officers with red crosses on their helmets hurry forward as Raf grabs Alex’s arm and tries to pull him to the side. Somewhere deep inside, Alex knows that he has to let go, that Henry’s only hope is the medical team. The panic choking him has fully taken over now, though, and he only clutches Henry more tightly to his chest. “N-no, Raf, please,” he pleads. “You have to let go of him, kid.” “No, no, I can’t, I can’t—“ “Alex! Look at me!” Raf commands sharply. The order catches Alex full in the chest and he responds instinctively, his gaze snapping up to meet dark, worried eyes. A face much like his own, but lined and careworn after years at the agency. A face that has seen more than its share of hopeless situations. A face that is telling Alex, now, to trust him. “You have to,” Raf says again, his voice gentle but firm. Alex lets go.

Favorite First Meeting: Cold Light

“That doesn’t sound good,” the man replies as he straightens up again. Whatever he was doing he seems to be done with, even though he hasn’t touched a thing. He stares up at the sky for a moment, as if lost in thought; in the silence that follows, Mobius watches ribbons of what’s shaping up to be a rather spectacular display of the aurora borealis begin winding their way across the night’s sky behind him. “So? What do you think?” “Hm?” “About the engine.” “Oh, I don’t actually know anything about engines.” Mobius stares at him for a beat in disbelief. “Then why’d you want to see it?” The man shrugs, a vaguely amused expression playing on his features. “Seemed like a thing one does when your vehicle breaks down.”

Favorite Outsider Perspective: That's What Other People Do

“You know me so well, Peril,” Solo says to him before taking a huge bite. He briefly looks, somewhat bizarrely, like a chipmunk. “I know you are somehow always hungry,” Kuryakin returns. “And you get as excited about greasy diner food as gourmet restaurant.” Solo swallows and grins broadly. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than greasy diner food. If I’m gonna have to go to Jersey for this mission, I might as well indulge. Gimme some of your milkshake, would you?” Kuryakin lets out a put-upon sigh, but his mouth is unmistakably tugging up at the corners as he slides the half empty glass over toward his partner. Robin chews slowly as she watches them continue to banter about the food as if she wasn’t there at all. Kuryakin stretches an arm out along the back of the booth behind Solo’s shoulders, and when Solo finally polishes off the burger he settles back against it, almost but not quite tucked against Kuryakin’s side, looking immensely satisfied.

Favorite Angsty Confrontation: Little by Little

“How many have there been?” Napoleon whispers. Suddenly his proximity is unbearable. Close enough that Illya could lean in and kiss him in an instant, and wouldn’t that just be the perfect cap on all of this misery? He can almost imagine the slide of his lips and the heat of his mouth for a moment before the fantasy threatens to choke him. Illya drops his arm and turns away, striding across the room as he scrubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know,” he says into his palms, and it’s nearly inaudible to even him so he knows Napoleon did not hear the answer. “How many, Peril? I mean are we talking a one or two, or a handful, or—” “I don’t know!” Illya bellows, wheeling back toward him. 

Tagging @orchidscript, @historicallysam, @leaves-of-laurelin, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @three-drink-amy

@loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @nicijones, @justabigoldnerd, @magicandarchery, @14carrotghoul

@mirilyawrites, @eusuntgratie, @cactusdragon517, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire, @magicandarchery

@myheartalivewrites

So that's the number of snippets I posted, but PLEASE if you see this and want to do it, jump in!! Be proud of your fics!

[republicsecurity]

Receiving Facility 

The ambulance hissed to a halt at the designated intake bay. The doors opened in sequence — external first, then internal — letting in a waft of cooler, filtered air. The stretcher lifted on its gimbal suspension, gliding down the ramp with barely a bump.

6CCW8 took the lead on the patient’s side. F295L mirrored him on the opposite rail. Between them, the stretcher rolled smoothly, red gloves on the frame, the old man relaxed beneath his blanket.

Waiting inside were two figures: one in a clean, white tunic with civilian hospital markings, the other unmistakably a Corps conscript in the Nursing Corps. His uniform was pure white — soft synthetic fabric stretched neatly over a lean, athletic frame. Bald head, no helmet, expression neutral but alert.

The civilian nurse stepped forward. Mid-fifties, silver streaks in a tight bun, warm eyes behind utilitarian glasses. Her ID tag swung lightly from her collar.

“Well now,” she said with a gentle smile, “aren’t you two tall ones a sight.”

F295L straightened automatically. “Patient from Sector 12 Residential Clinic. Non-urgent transfer. Post-cardiac intervention, no O2, single IV. Stable on route, no incidents.”

The woman looked at him with amused patience. “You did just fine, sweetheart. Let’s have a look.”

She stepped up and checked the patient — hands gentle, movements efficient. The patient smiled. “These two did all right. Didn’t hit a single pothole.”

The conscript nurse — a boy of about nineteen — stepped forward with a tablet. His white uniform was spotless, and the barcode on his collar caught the light.

“Vitals logged. Transfer time noted. Confirming identity.” He scanned the stretcher ID band, his voice crisp. “Copy received.”

6CCW8 stepped back as instructed. Protocol dictated he hold position until the civilian staff took full control. F295L mirrored him — standing a pace behind the stretcher now, posture still perfect.

The older nurse gave them both a once-over. “Cadets, right? Still in school?”

“Yes, ma’am,” 6CCW8 said. “Certified for transport this term. Paramedic Cadet Corps.”

She gave a warm nod, eyes softening. “Well, I’ll say — you carry yourselves better than most interns we see. Don’t let those suits fool you into thinking you’re already grown, though. It’s still all right to be a bit green.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.

She smiled again. “Polite, too. Dangerous combination.”

The Corps conscript gave them a curt nod. “Clear for release. We’ve got it from here.”

6CCW8 and F295L gave the handover salute — right hand across the chestplate, two fingers extended. Not the formal Corps gesture, but the Cadet version, adapted for youth operations.

The patient lifted a hand slightly in return. “Thanks, Eight. You too, Helmet Kid.”

F295L gave a soft laugh through the helmet speaker.

The civilian nurse leaned in as they turned to leave. “And when you’re off-duty, remember: eat something that didn’t come out of a ration tube.”

F295L turned his head slightly. “Noted, ma’am.”

The doors sealed behind them, and the stretcher disappeared into the clean white corridors of the receiving ward.

Outside, the ambulance awaited, bathed in the low afternoon light. VG5D3 was already in the front seat, visor up, watching them approach.

“Well?” he asked.

“Handover complete. Vitals logged. Staff accepted,” 6CCW8 replied.

“And she told us to eat real food,” F295L added, a hint of a grin in his voice.

VG5D3 chuckled. “You get one real meal. Then back to corps bars and protein packs.”

They climbed in. The doors shut. The ambulance rolled into motion again — back into the city grid, back into the rhythm.

[melodianaartist]

Okay so I watched the wicked movie and here are my thoughts just b/c I expressed some expectations on here before and I want to capture the feelings I have rn

The context for this is that I am a big fan of the musical and have seen it 3 times

Also I did not watch it in the OG English voice so I can only speak on the performances in song and body language really.

The movie really profited from the additional time tbh. Especially in the oz dust scene. In the stageplays I have seen it’s a very short moment, like less than a minute maybe before Glinda joins in and even then it’s kinda played for laughs because she imitates Elphie‘s much dorkier dance moves. This..god. The way it shows how anxious Elphie is/makes us look through her eyes. Her hiding her face in shame. And then the tenderness with which Glinda touches her and wipes away her tears. I got goosebumps.

I will say from what I got from the acting Erevo + Grande‘s performance of the girls is pretty innocent. Elphie feels more helpless for the majority of the movie than the more bitter and sarcastic vibes I got seeing it on stage. Likewise Glinda could have shown more loathing but maybe this comes from the German voices. I don‘t hate it, its just something I noticed, not necessarily negative though.

Speaking of acting. Ariana Grande really surprised me. Is as worried for her but she is really good. My jaw was on the floor at the very last part of popular. The growls! The energy! It’s there! Glinda is there and she is fun, thank god.

I can‘t articulate how and why but the opening sequence is so hype. But there is no heterosexual explanation for those shots of Elphie and Glinda from her memories. The two bathed in sunlight?? Also them looking each other in bed in popular.

The burning Elphie straw thing??? Oh my god???

Her flashback is interesting. Elphie was basically raised by animals, which explains her connection to them even more. Wish we had seen more of Jess’s but the flashback shows so much of the family dynamic.

In regards to Nessa, she remains firmly a side character but there a lot of little things that enrich her. How the Oz staff touches her and infantalizes her without consent. How she notices that Boq is looking at Glunda. How she wants a new start (which sucks for Elphaba but I can‘t fully blame Nessa either for wanting a social life). How she never steps in when Elphie is in trouble but Elphie doesn‘t even seem to expect it. How her father seems so so protective of her which leads to her not noticing Elphies struggle.. it’s good.

The constant hair toss from Glinda is amazing.

I‘m sold on the animals in general but not on dr dillamond. I think there is something to be said about how gorgeous the broadway costume(s) are and how it adds an extra sense of wrongness when dr. Dillamond starts making goat noises when it’s humans in costumes. But I get it, they are supposed to be animals and with movies you can actually have a talking goat. Do love how animals seem to be a part of Oz‘s world though. Their presence is much more felt and so the threat feels real.

I was expecting Dr.Morrible to act nice (at first obviously) but I didn’t expect her to be THAT nice. Like I was genuinely astonished. Also a theme of „malicious“ people touching our main cast without consent seems to be present because she literally had Elphies Face in her hands at some point.

I will never particularly like Boq (the trope of the yearning devoted loser guy pining for a popular girl obviously not into him is just lost on me) but they humanized him a lot by showing his perspective and also how nessa might have started to think how they are similar with not being able to see.

FIYERO. First of all I like that they show him having a friendship with the horse, it establishes him bedient in the side of animals. But also I have never seen a man dance this sluttily. Dancing through life was like a fever dream. I was half expecting him to start stripping.

I slightly dislike that elphaba was eaves dropping on dillamond and listening to something bad instead of beeing told as much. I mean yeah it’s nice to se either animals and the visuals were cool but I think it establishes their connection a bit more…the hoof holding was really cute though.

I vaguely remember a huge ass syringe beeing used on the cub in the stageplay?? They cut that out. Cowards./lh

Look I know it’s mostly CGI but the Emerald city was just so cool. It was just so grand. I grasped my friends hand when Idina and Kristin appeared. It was so good and I believe the prophecy was never mentioned in the musical but it makes sense that it‘s established because yeah huh why did they appear so readily.

I am and have always been a big fan of the oz head/mask especially on stage. This is nice too.

The monkeys gaining wings and the reveal that it was just not Chestiry who got them is one of my favorite moments ever in musical history cause it’s so horrible in the London production. This was kinda meh. Though I guess bonus for showing us why they work for the wizard at all.

Madam Morrible turning so quickly was really cool. Same with the wizard.

Oh yeah the wizard. He is just fun. Nothing outstanding but a good solid pathetic failwife idiot. Malicious puppy energy. I despise him.

Him handing her the figure for his glorified doll house and the doll house in general + it beeing green meaning he accepts her as she is (if she is of use to him) is good also.

The defining gravity sequence. Oh my god. It was insane. The emotions. Her jump. Her nearly falling to her death. Her inner child who was always ostracized becoming her broom with which she can fly?? I cried. The whole sequence was so so good. Her cloak flying in the wind. Madam Morrible immediately using the moment to her advantage. The feeling of freedom? The vocals??? I was feeling. After the movie ended I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach/pos. I was left reeling. It was so so good.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Misty Creed - Part 3

Ooh is it a scheme? I love it when they scheme

Okay, either Pangzi is in the process of getting possessed in which case SAVE HIM or he's faking to expose the old man as being evil

Love Xiaoge casually throwing Wu Xie across the room to get him out of harm's way

This is a fun fight sequence. Wu Xie is capable but is mostly defending himself and he's definitely not flipping around like Xiaoge

Ooh plot twist! The old man is the baby from the opening flashback. Didn't see that one coming.

Hey, I think Pangzi deserves a Golden Rooster for that performance. I was worried!

I am very much enjoying plot device not even present Xiao Hua

Ooh so this whole thing has been a trap for Xiaoge from the start. Love it. I mean not the trap but that it's actually tying into the DMBJ lore.

Noooooo! Pangzi needs saving! Again!

Pangzi gets to be the damsel in distress this time. Wu Xie and Xiaoge had better give him lots of kisses when this is over.

It wasn't magnets this time it was spores

When Xiaoge makes any sort of facial expression you know things are bad but when he looks angry things are REALLY bad. This dude is going to regret trying to sacrifice Pangzi

I legit just gasped. HAS XIAOGE FORGOTTEN THEM AGAIN??

I do like that Wu Xie doesn't even hesitate. Pangzi is in danger and even though that danger is from Xiaoge he attacks

This has very different vibes to the time Wu Xie was hallucinating and attacked Pangzi in Reboot.

OH SHIT XIAOGE STABBED HIM! Okay, anyone who knows me knows that I do not like Pangzi whump. He deserves love and hugs and blanket forts. That being said I am literally on the edge of my seat during this

Oh he's possessed! That's better than amnesia I think. Also, I am feeling some feelings about Pangzi lifting Xiaoge up off the ground like this despite having a hole in his shoulder and Xiaoge being super strong

Oh shit he sliced up Wu Xie too. I'm already having Ideas about writing the aftermath of this depending on what happens in the movie

Oh he's not possessed at all! It literally isn't Xiaoge. That's almost disappointing. There could have been some excellent 'I hurt my two husbands while I was possessed' angst

Lines like this is why I love this stupid franchise so much

The dynamite: is right there Wu Xie: runs past it and stabs the mushroom with a knife

Wu Xie grabbed the dynamite on a whim and Pangzi grabbed the detonator. Once again they are so married

Whaaaaat? Xiaoge was the the one who told the old man to sacrifice Xiaoge? Skin mask? Another Zhang who looks like Xiaoge? Actually Xiaoge and he then forgot? I have so many questions

!!!!!! BATHING TOGETHER JUST LIKE THEY DO IN THE NOVEL

Who is this dude who works for Xiao Hua? I want to know more about him

Nothing says sorry for nearly getting you all killed than a nice new sword for Xiaoge

Why is it not good?? So many questions!

I'm not going to be fooled again. There was a mid-credit sequence last time and I bet there's another one

A HAH!

Even more unanswered questions

OOOH the thing that started it is now going to continue it

I loved that. WAY better than the first one. This actually felt like a DMBJ movie not just any old action/adventure with characters that happen to be named after the Iron Triangle.