#Hidden secrets in monuments

[shutterbulky]

Exploring the Secrets of Mount Rushmore: A Historical Mystery

Mount Rushmore: The Intriguing Hidden Chamber Within the realm of American history and conspiracy theories, there exists a tale that seems ripped from the pages of a Hollywood adventure script, reminiscent of blockbuster movies like “National Treasure.” Yet, the theory that something extraordinary lies concealed within the monumental edifice of Mount Rushmore predates its portrayal on the silver…

[delhitourguide]

Delhi Tour Guide Harry

[cdyssey]

“carpet diem” is so quietly devastating when you know about ford. It’s not only the detail of stan discreetly examining his brother’s glasses when no one is around to see, but it’s also about how ford’s entire room is a monument to his grief—untouched, unchanged, forcibly hidden away behind a heavy wardrobe.

It’s tomb, it’s time capsule, and the wound he won’t touch, letting it fester with all the other secrets he hides.

out of sight, but never completely out of mind because every time he so much as glances in the mirror these days, he looks more like ford than he has ever done so before.

He’s got the glasses, his shack, even his very name.

and then, on the flip side, you realize that Stan was never far from ford’s mind either because there’s a framed picture of a ship in his room, and surely, it was an omnipresent reminder of that lost childhood dream.

sailing on open waters with his brother—together and inseparable, which is to say finally and utterly home.

[seoulzie]

범규; whispers of the unsleeping

───── orphic ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 (adj.) mysterious & entrancing; beyond ordinary understanding

synopsis: in the small city of yeosu, insomniac choi beomgyu seeks refuge in his school's abandoned astronomical observatory to catch some sleep. there, he encounters y/n l/n, a sociable and carefree girl who shares his struggle with insomnia. together, they form an unlikely friendship and revive their school's defunct astronomy club, spending their nights exploring the stars.

彡 pairing: beomgyu x f!reader 彡 genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, university au 彡 warnings: mentions of mental health & insomnia, parental abandonment (?) chronic illness, strong language, grief & loss

RELEASE DATE; 07/26/24 — this week, friday

index: prologue i. sleepless encounters capella ii. a place of our own vega iii. rekindling the stars proxima iv. phases of the moon, phases of us rigel v. cosmic challenge polaris vi. beyond the horizon altair vii. heart to heart betelgeuse viii. tomorrow's sunrise arcturus the end: epilogue

TAGLIST: OPEN! leave an ask in my inbox, reply to this post, or send me a dm!

CHOI BEOMGYU ( 21 ) ( M )

a student who struggles with trouble falling asleep most nights. consequently, he is irritable at school, always searching for an opportunity to find a secluded place to doze off. despite his gruff exterior, he is well-known around campus for his charming looks.

Y/N L/N ( 20 ) ( F )

a cheerful and enthusiastic student, the astronomy club president, whose secret battle with insomnia leads her to the solace of the astronomical conservatory at night. determined to keep her condition hidden, she finds refuge among the stars until she encounters another night owl, beomgyu.

PROLOGUE: CHAPTER 0 word count: 3.1k

another sleepless night. beomgyu stared up at the ceiling of his room, counting the cracks for the hundredth time. it was a game he played with himself when he couldn’t sleep, a futile attempt to trick his brain into shutting down. spoiler alert: it never worked.  he groaned, the sound echoing hollowly in the silent room, and threw an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the faint glow of dawn creeping through the dusty blinds. the alarm clock on his nightstand blinked 6:00 am in angry red numbers, a mocking reminder of the day looming ahead.

with a sigh that condensed the exhaustion clinging to him like a shroud, beomgyu rolled out of bed. every muscle screamed in protest, a dull ache thrumming through his limbs. he shuffled to the bathroom, his movements heavy with sleep deprivation. his reflection in the mirror looked as shitty as he felt—dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up in every direction, and a permanent scowl etched on his face. he splashed some cold water on his face, hoping it would wake him up enough to function through another hellish day at school.

he reached for his usual blue and white striped tube of toothpaste, but his fingers met only the cold, hard plastic of the sink. panic clawed at his throat. empty. of course, it was empty. why wouldn't it be? just his luck.

frantic, he rummaged through the cabinet under the sink, desperately searching for a spare tube. nothing. nada. just a half-empty bottle of mouthwash that reeked of peppermint and disappointment. he slammed the cabinet shut, the sound echoing through the small bathroom like a gunshot. “fucking hell.”

defeated, beomgyu straightened up, bracing himself for another blow. he hobbled over to his laundry basket, a tangled mess of unmentionables. he started digging, desperately searching for a matching pair of socks. hope flickered when his fingers brushed against soft cotton, then died a slow, agonizing death as he pulled out a lone, navy blue sock. where was its partner? had it been swallowed by a rogue dryer gremlin? eaten by a sock-hungry monster lurking in the washing machine?

beomgyu stared at the single sock in his hand, a monument to his perpetually bad luck. he was starting to think the universe had a personal vendetta against him. this wasn't just another day; it was a full-blown disaster waiting to happen, and he was just the hapless protagonist caught in the middle.

after throwing on his uniform and grabbing his backpack, he headed downstairs. his dad had already left for work, as usual. the house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaotic mornings of his childhood before—stop it, he thought to himself. beomgyu shook off the unwelcome memories and grabbed a piece of toast on his way out.

he dragged himself to the front door, his feet protesting with each step. a splash of color outside his window caught his eye. mrs. han, his elderly neighbor, was kneeling by her rose bushes, her weathered hands wielding a watering can with surprising vigor. despite his fatigue, a small smile tugged at the corner of beomgyu's lips. mrs. han was a fixture in the neighborhood, a tiny woman with a heart as big as her prized hydrangeas.

"good morning, mrs. han," he managed, his voice rough from disuse.

she looked up, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. "good morning, beomgyu. off to school already? you look a bit pale," she said with a motherly concern that always made him feel a flicker of warmth.

"just a little tired, mrs. han," he replied, offering a weak smile. "those history essays won't write themselves, you know."

mrs. han chuckled. "always busy, that's you. but remember, dear, rest is important too. don't you burn yourself out."

"i'll try my best," he promised, though the words tasted like ashes in his mouth. he knew the truth – sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford.

beomgyu continued his walk, the rising sun painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. the usual sights and sounds of the morning held a peculiar distance, muffled by the fog in his brain. the bakery across the street, usually a source of enticing aromas, only offered a dull ache in his stomach – a reminder of the breakfast he hadn't bothered with.

as he neared the school gates, the sounds of chatter started to seep in, a rising crescendo of greetings and nervous laughter. he braced himself for the usual barrage of hellos and high-fives, his trademark charm already feeling strained. beomgyu wasn't just tired, he was running on fumes, his charisma a flickering candle in a hurricane of exhaustion.

just as he predicted, a cheerful voice chimed in from beside him. "beomgyu! looking handsome as ever this morning, even at this ungodly hour."

he turned to see yeri, a girl from his class with a smile as bright as her sunflower hair clip. she was notorious for her bubbly personality and her unashamed crush on him. usually, beomgyu would respond with a playful jab or a witty remark, adding to the innocent flirtation. but today, a single word was all he could muster.

"hey," he croaked out, a smile barely flickering across his lips.

yeri's smile faltered slightly. "everything okay? you seem...out of it."

he shrugged, the movement feeling like wading through mud. "just a late night studying." it wasn't a complete lie, but the truth felt too heavy to share.

"well," yeri continued, her voice losing a bit of its usual chirp, "don't let it get you down. math class first thing, right? let's just hope ms. choi isn't in one of her moods."

there was a time when such a comment would have sparked a playful banter, a shared groan about their least favorite teacher. today, beomgyu merely nodded, a hollow feeling settling in his chest.

despite his exhaustion, beomgyu couldn't help but notice the way heads turned in his direction, the whispered greetings, the stolen glances. he was undeniably popular, the school's resident charmer. but the weight of that popularity felt like a suffocating cloak.

a group of guys from the basketball team hollered a greeting, their voices echoing off the lockers. beomgyu offered a weak wave, the movement seeming to drain the last vestiges of his energy. a couple of girls from the dance club giggled as they passed, their eyes lingering on him for a beat too long. all he could do was muster a tired smile, the effort feeling monumental.

he reached his locker, the familiar combination numbers a blur in his sleep-deprived haze. as he shoved his books inside, a hand landed on his shoulder. it was kai, his best friend, his partner in crime (or at least, they were when beomgyu had the energy for crime fighting). kai, unlike beomgyu, was a beacon of energy, his perpetually ruffled brown hair and mischievous grin a constant source of amusement.

"dude, you look like a deflated balloon," kai commented, his voice laced with concern. "another night?"

beomgyu slammed his locker shut with a sigh that spoke volumes. "yeah," he mumbled, leaning against the cold metal for support.

kai's brow furrowed. "seriously, beomgyu. you've been like this for weeks. we talked about this already! you said you’d try anything besides looking like you haven't slept since kindergarten."

beomgyu ran a hand through his hair, a grimace creasing his face for a moment before smoothing out into a tired indifference. "yeah, yeah," he mumbled, more to himself than to kai. "it's whatever at this point."

kai's concern flickered, then died down as he picked up on the subtle shift in beomgyu's demeanor. he knew that tone – the one that said beomgyu was resigned, shutting himself off. pushing wouldn't help.

"alright," kai said, switching gears with the practiced ease, “come on, zombie boy. let's get to class before ms. choi starts discussing the square root of boredom."

the morning dragged on, each class blending into the next in a haze of exhaustion and boredom. beomgyu could barely keep his eyes open, let alone focus on the lectures. 

his first class was math, and he trudged to his seat, slumping down with a heavy sigh. he rummaged through his bag, only to realize he had forgotten his pen.

“hey, taehyun,” he whispered to the boy sitting next to him. “got a pen i can borrow?”

taehyun glanced at him and chuckled softly. “forgot yours again? here.” he handed beomgyu a pen, shaking his head in amusement.

“thanks, man,” beomgyu muttered, trying to muster a grateful smile. he opened his notebook and attempted to take notes, but his eyelids felt like lead weights. the teacher’s voice droned on, a monotonous hum that only made him feel sleepier.

his head began to nod, his vision blurring as he struggled to stay awake. just as he was about to give in to the sweet embrace of sleep, he heard his name being called.

“mr. choi,” the teacher’s voice was sharp and reprimanding. beomgyu jolted awake, blinking rapidly.

“y-yes?” he stammered, sitting up straight.

“care to repeat what i just said?” the teacher asked, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

beomgyu’s mind went blank. he hadn’t heard a single word. “uh… something about calculus?” he guessed, hoping he was at least close.

the class snickered, and the teacher sighed in exasperation. “detention, mr. choi. maybe next time you’ll pay attention instead of dozing off in my class.”

beomgyu slumped back in his seat, cursing under his breath. “great. just fucking great,” he thought.

by the time lunch rolled around, beomgyu was ready to collapse. he shuffled towards the cafeteria, his head hanging low. he spotted his friends at their usual table and dragged himself over, the fluorescent lights feeling like a personal attack on his already throbbing head.

"yo, beomgyu!" yeonjun called out, waving him over. "you look like shit, man. rough night?"

beomgyu slumped into a chair, the metal groaning under his weight. a defeated grunt escaped his lips as he slumped his tray onto the table. "yeah," he mumbled, picking at his food with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

soobin, munching on an apple, raised an eyebrow. "again? dude, you really need to see a doctor or something."

beomgyu shrugged, picking at his food without much appetite. "what are they gonna do? prescribe me more useless meds? no thanks."

yeonjun leaned forward, concern etched on his face. "have you tried, like, meditation or something? i heard it can help."

beomgyu rolled his eyes. "yeah, 'cause sitting still and doing nothing is gonna magically cure my insomnia. thanks, but no thanks."

taehyun looked at him, frowning. "you really should try something, man. this can’t be good for you."

beomgyu sighed. "yeah, well, i’ve tried everything. nothing works. now i’ve got detention ‘cause i fell asleep in math."

taehyun winced. "harsh. what are you gonna do?"

"skip it, maybe. find a quiet place to sleep," beomgyu muttered, pushing his tray away.

beomgyu wandered the halls, his mind a jumble of thoughts and exhaustion. the school was a labyrinth of possibilities, each one fraught with its own set of risks and potential rewards. he needed to find the perfect place to nap, somewhere quiet and out of the way where no one would bother him.

places to (possibly) sleep 1) the janitor's closet

the first place that came to mind was the janitor’s closet. beomgyu had passed by it a million times, always noticing how the janitor, mr. lee, would leave it unlocked while he went about his duties. beomgyu headed towards the closet, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. he carefully turned the knob and slipped inside.

the closet was small and dark, filled with cleaning supplies and equipment. the smell of bleach and disinfectant was strong, but beomgyu didn’t care. he saw a small space behind a stack of boxes and decided it would have to do. he crouched down, wedging himself into the cramped space. the floor was cold and hard, but he was desperate for some rest.

he closed his eyes, trying to let the darkness and quiet lull him to sleep. just as he felt himself drifting off, the door creaked open. beomgyu’s eyes snapped open, and he held his breath. mr. lee stood in the doorway, a look of confusion quickly turning to annoyance on his face.

“hey! what are you doing in here?” mr. lee barked.

“shit,” beomgyu muttered under his breath. he scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. “sorry, i—uh—i got lost?”

mr. lee narrowed his eyes. “out. now.”

beomgyu didn’t need to be told twice. he quickly slipped past the janitor and out into the hallway, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. so much for that.

places to (possibly) sleep 1) janitor’s closet 2) library

next, beomgyu decided to try the library. it was usually quiet, and he figured he might be able to find a secluded corner to catch some z’s. he made his way to the library, the scent of old books hitting him as soon as he stepped inside. the librarian, mrs. tanaka, gave him a stern look over her glasses, but he ignored her and began his search for the perfect spot.

the library was mostly empty, with only a few students scattered around, hunched over their books. beomgyu walked past the rows of shelves, looking for a place where he could hide from prying eyes. he found a spot in the back, behind a tall stack of books on astronomy. it was quiet, and he could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning.

he sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall, and pulled his knees to his chest. the cool air and the silence were soothing, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy. just as he was about to drift off, he heard footsteps. he peeked around the stack of books and saw a group of girls walking towards him, giggling and chatting.

“great,” he thought. “just great.”

the girls didn’t notice him at first, but as they got closer, one of them spotted him. she nudged her friend, and they both started whispering and giggling even louder. beomgyu felt his face heat up with annoyance and embarrassment. this was definitely not going to work.

he got up, brushing the dust off his pants, and made his way out of the library, ignoring the stares and whispers of the girls. “too many people and out in the open,” he thought. scratch that idea.

places to (possibly) sleep 1) janitor’s closet 2) library

beomgyu trudged on, defeat clinging to him like yesterday's gym clothes. he formulated a mental list in his head, each possibility crumpling under the weight of potential interruptions. the rooftop? too exposed. the music room? a rogue trumpet could shatter any hope of sleep.

his weary eyes scanned the familiar halls, a sliver of hope flickering as he rounded a corner. there it stood, a solitary figure against the twilight sky—the astronomy tower.

the tower, a relic of a bygone era of scientific exploration. its once-gleaming silver exterior was now weathered and rusted, the windows dark and vacant. It had been years since anyone had ventured inside, rumors of asbestos and ghosts swirling around it like dusty cobwebs.

but for beomgyu, in his desperate search for a haven, the tower's isolation was a siren song. no students lingered in its shadow, no teachers patrolled its perimeter. in that forgotten corner, a flicker of hope ignited. it might be dusty, it might be creepy, but it could be perfect. as he neared the tower, the details became more pronounced: chipped tiles forming the entrance walkway, a rusty weather vane groaning in the faint evening breeze, and the peeling paint revealing the faded inscription "ad astra per aspera" - "to the stars through difficulties." an odd prickle ran down his spine. the inscription felt oddly fitting, a challenge on this day of immense hardship. could the tower, in its own dilapidated way, be his path to the stars? to sleep, the most elusive star in his current reality? the door was old and creaky, and it took a bit of effort to push it open. just as he was about to reach for the door handle, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.

“fuck,” beomgyu muttered, feeling his shoulders slump in defeat. the observatory would have to wait. he decided then and there that he would check it out tomorrow during his free period. he turned and trudged back down the hallway, the prospect of a good nap tantalizingly out of reach.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @inkigayocamman , @beombeomlovesme ⤷ want to get notified? click here!

© 2024 seoulzie

[hallowpen]

Hello! 👋 First of all i just wanna say, as someone who isn’t very familiar with Thai culture your explanations have been very enlightening and just give TLP another layer of depth, so thank you for posting them 🥹🙏. With that said, I was reading one of your posts that said “the social class nods are subtly woven into their interactions” and I was just wondering if you could maybe expand on that?

Hello!!! 😊😊😊 Aw... thank you!!! That actually means so much to me because this series means so much to me. I've been anticipating the adaptation of The Loyal Pin for who knows how long, at this point. I love the novel! (I own both the Thai and English versions. Though I haven't actually read the English translation yet, so I don't know how accurate it is to the original hehe) Once FreenBecky were attached, I was SOLD. Then the MOC decided to back the series and I knew how monumental this series would be, not just for Thai GL, but for Thailand in general. It makes me extremely proud to see important sapphic media, on such a large scale, originating from my home country. I could never have imagined something this grand happening just three years ago. It makes me emotional.

Before I get too in my feels, let me actually answer your question...

Just for clarification purposes, the ask is referring to my tags on this reblog of @dragonsareawesome123's gifset.

It's important to understand that Anil and Pin's whole dynamic is built around their social rankings, so it makes sense that their interactions reflect that... even if it's not entirely conscious. Anil is royalty, and because of that she is afforded certain liberties that Pin is not. Her 'mischievous' behaviors are excused and overlooked because, yes she is young, but she can also do as she pleases. She never faces any repercussions in the same way that Pin does. It's one of the perks of being a highly ranked Princess. Anil is favored in the palace because it's her home.

Pin is a guest. Yes, she holds the rank of 'nobility', but it is a title reserved for what higher ranking royalty would consider a commoner. She was afforded the privilege to live in the palace because Princess Pattamika took her in. Pin was not born into royalty. Neither was Pattamika, for that matter. Pattamika is strict with Pin, in much the same way Pin is strict with herself. Because neither of them can afford to have her fall out of line. Pin holds favor with Anil and her family, but it does not afford her the freedom to betray her social standing. If anything, it only enforces it. It makes you think...would they sill favor her if she were to go against their wishes in any way, shape, or form?

Pin is forever on the outside looking in... and she subconsciously knows it. And, in some ways, Anil subconsciously knows it as well.

"People say that it is so hard to hear Lady Pin uttering a word. As if you’re afraid something will fall out of your mouth." Anil to Pin

Unlike Anil, Pin must hold firm to palace rules.

"Why did you hit her?" "Lady Pin failed to take good care of Your Highness. She disgraced you by putting you in danger." Pattamika to Anil

"Please feel free to do as you wish. As if you would listen to me if I try to stop you." Pin to Anil

She dares not to disobey Pattamika, because she knows and understands why she'd be punished if she were to do so. And she cannot talk her way out of it, the way Anil can.

"Although she might be strict, meticulous, and strongly adherent to tradition... she loves me dearly, and continues to teach me and educate me in many things." Pin about Pattamika

"Poor Lady Pin, I really pity her. She often gets punished because of Anil."

She keeps her feelings of adoration for Anil hidden as secret treasures in her room.

She's quick to question Anil's lack of adherence to formal etiquette:

"Aren’t ladies normally supposed to [dance] with a gentleman? It would look peculiar if we do it together."

The only times she feels comfortable and gets to be herself is when Anil, for lack of a better word, 'allows' her to be. And Pin feels indebted to her because of that.

"Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to get through those lonely and miserable times. Thank you for being my friend, my home, and my everything."

So to answer Anil's question, Pin would feel incredibly lonely should Anil ever leave her... as she would no longer have an escape from society's class structure and expectations.

"With you, my life in the palace is never lonely." Pin to Anil

[writing-house-of-m]

Cold hands, Warm hearts

Natasha Romanoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Natasha warms you up on a cold day with an impromptu date

A/N: This is for @esouliie ! You can all thank her for this because I don't know when I would have gotten something new finished. This was also the result of there being way too many 'missing Natasha hours' recently (I've also been having a lot of 'missing Wanda hours' too and have re-watched WandaVision because of it). But, everyone... this fic... is so freaking cute and I hope you all think so too. Happy reading and let me know who you think!

"Hey," you hear a familiar rasp from over your shoulder. 

You didn't think you would hear from her so soon. She told you she was going to be busy, which is code for ‘away on a mission’, so have kept yourself occupied for the last few weeks trying not to think of the red head. Which is easier said than done. 

Every morning when you wake up disappointment fills you not seeing her there. Your intertwined lives are now routine. 

It is hard to adjust when she is away, especially when it is for weeks and what feels like no end in sight. On top of that, with missions like these, there is no communication between you to fill the Natasha shaped hole in your life. 

Sometimes you wonder if it would be easier to be involved with someone else, anyone else for that matter, but the thought is gone as quick as it comes because no one could ever replace the way she makes you feel. 

The first week of her absence you filled your free time as much as you could by catching up with friends and family. You constantly found yourself avoiding the question about why you have been so distant recently. It was the one thing Natasha requested from you - not telling anyone about your relationship with her - to, in her words ‘keep you safe'. 

You still remember the way she looked at you. It was the first time you could see past the facade she held, seeing the worry linger in her eyes for a split second. The intensity of her gaze and her hesitance was a strange thing to witness. When you nodded your head in agreement her smile was soft, almost relieved. In that moment you realized you would agree to anything she asked just to see that vulnerable side again. You felt privileged. 

This second and third week have been much slower, a lot of your time has been spent in the four walls of your apartment because of last minute canceled plans and much needed maintenance needed around your home. 

So you decide today, cold be damned, you will be taking a walk through your local park. You shared this little wonder of a place with Natasha in your fourth month of being together, happy to be able to reveal a bit more of you and your life. 

It is a public place, more people pass by here than in the street where you live. But you got to show Natasha all the overlooked secrets; little winding paths that lead to flower gardens, a pond hidden behind some bushes and the gargoyles you can see from one spot when standing in a specific angle by a monument in the center. You even pointed out some regulars you see because of all your time here. From the confined elderly wanting a bit of liberation from their mundane lives to daring children trying to climb the tallest tree they can find. 

A breeze rushes past, the cold chilling you to your bones and you inwardly curse at yourself. Trust you to have picked the coldest day for some freedom. Initially, the brisk air was making you regret your decision, that was until the sun came out. It didn't do a whole lot against the freezing temperature, but it did look pretty against the frost and ice distracting you from the chilly weather. 

The way the sun's rays shine between the branches that stretched out over your head reminded you of spring time and how much you couldn’t wait for the season to change. 

Just as you were about to get out from the clearing for some much needed sunlight and heat on your face, that’s when you heard Natasha. 

It has been so long you think you are hearing things, that is until you turn your head and see her. The long army green coat she is wearing almost makes her look taller. 

Almost. 

Strands of red hair peek out from the beanie Natasha is wearing, a braid is tucked into her pulled up collar and she has a soft smile on her face. One you have noticed she reserves for you. 

It takes everything in you to not run over and jump into her arms, to press your nose into her neck to get a smell of the home you have been craving. 

Big scenes are not her thing, you’ve learnt. 

Instead your eyes drop to her gloved hands holding two hot drinks which takes you out of your stupor and smiling brighter in return. You almost want to ask how she knew where you were but then remember her profession. 

"You look cold," there is a playfulness to Natasha’s voice matching her smirk. 

Regardless of how wrapped up you are, you know your scarf hasn't done much to stop your face from getting cold, it must be covered in a light blush. 

"I could say the same about you," you raise an eyebrow with your own smirk. A noticeable pink tint is adorning her cheeks and nose from the cold bite of the air. You wonder how long she has been trailing you. 

Natasha's smile widens as closes in and hands you one of the cups. You take off your gloves, shoving them into your pocket to allow the heat to bring back the feeling in your frozen hands as you bring it to your nose to take a whiff. Your favorite, of course it is. 

She leans in and pecks you on the lips, her still warm palm from the drink sinks into your cheek making you forget about the kiss of the sun you were walking towards. Natasha disappoints you with how short her lips are on yours, you were hoping for something that was more than just a split second considering how long it has been. 

Although Natasha pulls back it is only by an inch as she remains close to ask, "Where are you going?" 

Her voice is low and her warm breath is a nice contrast to the icy wind. 

Your eyes flutter close as you revel in her presence and soak up the warmth she brings. Brushing your nose against hers you reply, "Wherever my feet take me," you smile and open your eyes to the green ones you selfishly wish to keep to yourself. "I'm glad I have some company now," you whisper. 

"I hope you weren't expecting anyone else," Natasha says with a twitch of an eyebrow. 

You shake your head. "Definitely not," you say, pressing a small kiss to her lips, one that lasts longer than the mediocre one she gave you. "I missed you." 

You like seeing her like this. Carefree. Soft. Unguarded. 

Well as unguarded as can be, it was something you picked up in your first few months of spending time together - Natasha is always alert. The way her eyes flint around every so often, looking around to quickly survey her surroundings, always cautious of any lingering threats. To the untrained eye it looks like she is taking in the scenery, but you know after knowing her for as long as you have. 

Over time it is a habit you have even picked up from her, making you wonder if there are things she has picked up from you. 

Natasha stands by your side allowing you to loop an arm around her waist while you take a sip of your beverage. It leaves a warm trail as it makes its way down your throat. It still isn't as warm as the way Natasha makes you feel though as cheesy as that may sound. 

"Thank you for this, I didn't realize how much I needed it," you say, signaling the paper cup. 

She smiles at you to acknowledge your gratitude. "You're never one to think ahead, plus I saw you shiver," Natasha remarks. 

You scoff, shaking your head, "I did not shiver." 

Some children are laughing not too far in front of you which distracts both of your attentions away from your conversation. A large puddle of water has frozen over and seems to be the main source of entertainment for the little gang. 

The two of you stop to watch their innocence, a pang of jealousy hits you because of how carefree and innocent they are. Not a single worry showing on their faces in this cruel world. 

You have been fortunate to only hear about the atrocities always going on. More so since you started to date Natasha. She doesn't go into detail about her line of work but the faraway look she has on her face sometimes after certain assignments tells you all you need to know. It fills you with pride knowing you are Natasha’s source of domestic normalcy. 

One of the snuggly wrapped up boys slips and tries to regain his footing before he falls to the ground making you let out a breath of laughter. The scene is something straight from a cartoon as the boy tries to find balance when trying to stand again while the rest laugh at him. A boy in a puffy gray coat, who is howling with laughter, loses his feet from under him sending him straight to the ground landing on his butt making the rest of them exclaim even louder. 

The smile you see in your peripheral vision tells you Natasha is enjoying this too. 

"How long had you been watching me before you decided to come over, stalker?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

"Long enough to see you shiver," Natasha accuses in her husky voice. 

You bark out a laugh, "I do not shiver!" 

"Yeah, yeah, you keep lying to yourself," Natasha smirks. 

You spend long minutes, people watching while sipping on your drinks and basking in this precious stolen time you get to spend with each other. 

The children are fewer now, some of them have left with their parents while the rest stay. They have started a game to see who can stay on their feet the longest as they try to knock each other down. 

Sometimes you forget Natasha’s past, what little you know of it, and almost ask about her childhood. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from asking 'What did you get up to as a kid?’ 

Instead, you face Natasha as she continues to stare on at the scene; her side profile is enough to show her fatigue. You place your empty cup on the wall beside you so you can take her face in your hands. 

Natasha takes your lead to turn in your direction allowing you to take in all of her features. 

"You look tired," you whisper in concern as your thumb rubs along her cheekbone. 

"Gee, thanks(!)" Natasha chuckles at her own sarcasm. 

"Nat," you start, ready to reprimand her for not being serious. 

"We’ve had some long days. But don’t worry, I'll be off for the holidays,” Natasha replies. “You'll have me for two weeks. That’s enough time for you to get sick of having me around. By the end of it you’re going to want to be rid of me." 

"Impossible," you say without thinking then lean in to press a kiss to the corner of her lips. 

Natasha turns her head slightly to meet your lips, sighing when she allows herself a moment of being wrapped up in you. 

A buzzing sound makes you stop before you can deepen the kiss any further. You let out a breath of disdain from Natasha’s phone ruining your moment. Natasha smiles at you apologetically, taking the device from her pocket. 

While Natasha checks the notification you give her some privacy, picking up both empty cups to discard them. 

When you return and meet Natasha's eyes, the sparkle that was there just moments ago has faded as regret takes over. She is being called back. 

"Three more days, then you're all mine, Romanoff,” you smile. “And for a whole two weeks!" you exaggerate in hopes to lessen the blow of her having to leave. "How did I get so lucky? I guess I'm being spoiled this season." 

You know you succeed when you see the corners of Natasha's lips raise slightly before she holds onto your coat and pulls you in kissing you again. 

Her phone buzzes impatiently, interrupting you again . 

"I have to go," Natasha says, her warm breath fanning over your face as she rests her forehead against yours. ”But just know, I’m the lucky one here.” 

You smile at her confession and revel once more in the warmth she provides before you have to face the harsh cold that comes with the Winter months alone. 

Kissing Natasha’s forehead you meet her loving green gaze once more. "Come back to me," you breathe out as light as the breeze chilling you. 

"Always," Natasha says, sweetly and just as quiet. Her voice carries the weight of more than the one worded sentence she has spoken. 

Taking a breath, Natasha gives you a final peck before she drags herself away from you. 

Your arm stretches out as Natasha walks away, your hand lingering in hers for those extra few seconds of comfort. But mostly because you don't want to let her go. 

Saying goodbye is always difficult no matter how short the visit. 

As you watch her walk away you think about the first time you met the assassin. 

Out of all the windows in the city Natasha crashed through yours. Your shock had you frozen in place until she tried to stumble out of your apartment but collapsed from fatigue because of the fight she had just endured. 

After getting over the fact an Avenger covered in dirt and blood had ruined your new rug, you used your limited first aid knowledge to nurse her back to health. When she awoke a few hours later, she told you just how crappy of a job you had done. 

What got Natasha’s attention was when you quipped back saying you should have let her bleed out to make a quick buck off of all of her equipment to pay for the damages she caused. 

When she left a short while later you didn’t think you would ever see her in person again. You were looking forward to being able to tell all the people in your life about the encounter with an actual superhero. 

Reality hit you in the gut with the name of ‘Non Disclosure Agreement’ and a clean up crew which you couldn’t be mad about. 

Unbeknownst to you, after your first meeting Natasha couldn't stop herself from wanting to see you again. Her mind drifted to the ‘kind’ (your words not hers) stranger who applied sloppy bandages to her arm and stomach. The messy job would have gotten infected if she hadn’t woken up. Natasha caught herself smiling at the memory too often and had to force herself to be present for work. 

Life went on and your encounter felt less and less real as each day passed. Until one evening, while in your office building working late, you received a call telling you you were needed on the roof. Skeptical as you were, you obeyed thinking of the promotion you had been working so hard toward. 

What you hadn’t expected was a fully healed Black Widow to emerge from the shadows, playfully schooling you to not comply with shady orders received late at night. Then insulting you with how boring your life was and how you should learn to cook for yourself instead of wasting all your money on take-out. 

Surprise was an understatement and instead of letting that show, like your mouth wasn’t already slightly hanging open from the shock while she spoke, you decided to play Natasha’s game and call her out for the stalker that she was. 

Since then your meetings have been sporadic but it didn’t stop you both from falling for each other. Who knew a year and a half on you would be in a relationship with each other, life would have made more sense if you had stopped talking. But you have defied the odds and are still going strong. 

When you make it back to your apartment you find flowers waiting for you on the kitchen counter making you smile. A card attached to them with a message in Natasha’s handwriting that reads ‘3 more days ♡’ makes you feel like your heart is going to burst from emotion. 

Needless to say that smile never left your face throughout you making dinner all the way up until the moment you go to bed that night. Natasha somehow always has a habit of making you feel like a giddy teenager. 

You couldn’t wait to see her again. The gift you have been wanting to give to her for a few weeks has been hidden under your towels in the kitchen cabinet. You can only hope she doesn't already know about it. 

The next time you are together you are going to give her a key to your apartment so that she knows she will always have a place to come back to. 

A place she can call home. 

[reality-detective]

Military Intel & Covert Ops: Celebrities, The Judges/Olu Unit, Gitmo, Diego Garcia, Pine Gap, Naval Base Guam, White House & FISA Declassification

The hidden world of military intelligence and covert ops with elite units like The Judges/Olu, Gitmo, Diego Garcia, Pine Gap, and Naval Base Guam is about to unravel. The White House and FISA Declassification hold the key to exposing the secrets that have been shielded for far too long. What’s coming next will shake the very foundations of power.

We stand on the brink of DECLAS, where FISA documents are declassified, and the secrets of the elite are laid bare. The web of deceit and manipulation that has controlled the halls of government for years is on the verge of collapse. The Judges/Olu Military Unit in collaboration with US Forces is orchestrating a covert operation, shaping a new narrative that promises civil order, but at what cost?

At the heart of it all lies the Trump Administration and the secret locations—Diego Garcia, Pine Gap, Guam, and even beneath Washington, D.C. The whispers are growing: Gitmo is overflowing with prisoners of high stature, while hidden underground facilities prepare for something monumental. The political tension is mounting, and a storm is brewing.

As Trump’s era fades, a military government is stepping in, rewriting the rules of engagement. The Judges/Olu and US forces are shaping a grand narrative aimed at transforming society. But who’s pulling the strings behind this shift? Is this retaliation for the years of slander by the liberal elite? We may soon find out.

But the plot thickens. The final stage—FISA Declassification—promises to unleash a storm that no one is prepared for. Every signatory tied to FISA warrants is under investigation. The Steele dossier will be exposed for the fraud it was, and the dominoes will fall, taking down the deep state operatives who manipulated the system.

The global implications are staggering, with UK, Australia, and key international players embroiled in the surveillance operations. The truth will ignite diplomatic chaos, as alliances tremble in the face of this coming revelation.

It all leads to this moment: the specter of treason. Mainstream media won’t tell you, but they know Trump’s return is on the horizon, and they know what’s coming with him: vengeance. The storm is here. “The Plan” is unfolding, and soon, traitors will face justice.

The US Space Force (USSF) has been quietly capturing deep state operations since 2019. The global cabal, their data, their power, all documented, all ready to be exposed. The SCARE EVENT set to erupt in 2024 will send shockwaves through the entire system.

The countdown is ticking, and the world braces for what’s next. FISA will expose the corruption, the lies, and the crimes that have been hidden in plain sight. No one is safe. The question is, are you ready for what’s coming? The storm is real, and the truth is inevitable. Get ready. Be Prepared.

If you have been doing your homework... When Trump came into office, the military more than doubled the size of Gitmo and military tribunals began around the end of 2017 early 2018. The swamp was deep, it takes time to round up over one million people for their arrest. The last I heard there were over 400,000 pending indictments and what is about to happen is near. 🤔

[thesimpirediaries]

hello! can I request a kenma fic? Kenma doing little things in a relationship, since i hc him that his love language is act of service. Thank you.

✍️: omg yes! a headcanon that I can 1000% get behind! and it’s one that fits our beloved little pudding head so well! this is actually my first time writing anything for this little bean, so thank you so much for the req!

⚠️: gn!reader (no real bodily descriptors, you can imagine reader however you want), slightly suggestive themes, relationship headcanons, domestic headcanons, fluff, minor language

word count: 0.8k

Kenma has a few secrets that he keeps tucked close his heart — ones that even Kuroo doesn’t know about.

One of these such secrets is that, deep in his soul, Kenma is a hopeless romantic. The other, which ties fairly closely to the ‘hopeless romantic’, is that, with the right person, Kenma can fall hard and fast.

And you certainly were the right person.

Falling in love with you came as naturally easy as breathing to Kenma — the only hurdle he faced was his inability to communicate these feelings verbally. Bless his soul, he certainly tries; but even the occasional murmured ‘I love you’ here and there feels like a monumental emotional drain to him.

It’s far easier, and, in his mind, far more effective, to convey those feelings through actions — big and small.

Small, seemingly innocuous gifts — ones bought, crafted, or found by him;

“Just found it there, don’t think too much into it.”

“It reminded me of you, and it didn’t cost much, so…”

“This is your favorite color, right? Makes sense that you should have it…”

Sometimes, Kenma doesn’t think it’s much — he certainly didn’t in the beginning. But to you, those small gifts were everything; and you kept them locked tight in your room, tucked into your heart and held fast in your memory forever.

And over time, those small gifts grew, increasing in depth as Kenma’s feelings deepened.

You have a headache? Kenma is rushing to the nearest cabinet to grab a bottle of pain relievers — and if there’s none in the immediate vicinity, he’s darting to the nearest store to buy some with his own allowance.

Your feet are hurting? Soak them in some water then lay back on the bed (or the nearest soft surface.) Kenma will massage them until they’re nothing but relaxed puddles.

These massages extend to any part of your body that may be tense or achy. It wasn’t something he was entirely comfortable with in the beginning, but as the two of you grew closer and more familiar with one another, they became one of his favorite ways to become physically intimate with you.

Not to mention he has the hands of a god — probably due to his position and training as a setter.

It had taken a while, but at some point, Kenma had even grown to enjoy cuddling. It had started off small — fingers brushing against one another on the bed, shoulders touching, leaning into one another; until eventually, the two of you had grown to the point that within minutes of entering his room, you’d be nothing but a tangled pile of limbs atop his bed, sharing mingled breaths and inhaling one another’s scent.

Kenma enjoys it the most when you’re lying half way atop him, your ribs holding his thighs open and your cheek smushed into his stomach. It’s his favorite position to be in as he blasts spaceships to rubble within his PSP game.

Being the hidden hopeless romantic he is, Kenma believes firmly in opening doors, paying for meals, and every other thing that’s considered chivalrous — so even if you have the yen in your pocket, don’t even reach for it.

That’s how all of your dates go down — the ones in which public appearances are involved, any way. In most cases, Kenma is far more comfortable simply indulging in a movie marathon in his room (even better, a game marathon), but he sees the way you absolutely glow when the two of you spend an evening at the movies or a restaurant; and there’s no way Kenma would take that away from you. You’re the most ethereal when you’re happy and content.

And that’s all Kenma wants — to make you happy and content.

There’s nothing that swells his heart more than the sparkle in your eyes when he presents you with a gift, or the little affectionate squeeze you give his hand when he finds the bravery to slip it into yours. The way your lips pull into that dazzling smile as you gaze at him as if he quite literally hung the moon — Kenma is quick to realize that making you happy is what makes him happy.

And so Kenma observes you closely, continuously, gauging reactions and tucking the information away for safe keeping. He ensures that he displays his devotion to you in any way he can — surprise gifts, surprise dates, hell, he even gets you your favorite sweets; and, even more surprisingly, if he can’t buy them, he makes them.

Kenma isn’t the type to over exert himself. He doesn’t like the feeling or smell of sweat, and he doesn’t like the heaviness in his limbs after practice. But for you… he’d sweat all day, every day. He’d do anything just to make you happy.

Kenma would go out of his way to ensure that smile, to see your eyes glisten as you stare at him. It’s what makes him happy. It’s what he loves.

Kenma loves you, and loves making you happy. And until the day the world stops turning, he will bend over backwards to adore you and make you happy.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Screwed

A microfic written for Day 3 of Jily Week 2024, run by the very lovely @sunshinemarauder and @kay-elle-cee, and inspired by the theme In Vino Veritas - a moment of suspicious-liquid-induced confession. Or in this case - realisation.

537 words

Rated T (probably over-cautiously!)

Sixteen-year-old Lily Evans makes an alarming discovery

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily knows when it happens, almost to the minute. It’s monumental. It’s terrifying. It’s really bloody confusing. It’s the exact moment when she knows that she’s screwed. 

It happens at around quarter past nine on Thursday 2nd September. The very first lesson of her sixth year. Double Potions. 

She’s so excited. Potions is, and has always been, her favourite subject, and she can’t wait to get started with N.E.W.T. level work. Even Sev, glowering at her from across the room, can’t dampen her enthusiasm.

Typically, the lesson takes a while to get started - first day back, everyone still finding their feet, Slughorn checking they’d got all the right books and all the right equipment, and then delivering his typically pompous welcome speech. Lily doesn’t mind. She likes Slughorn. He has his faults, but who doesn’t? He’s always so encouraging, and so completely unbothered - delighted, even - by her talent, despite (because of?) her being Muggleborn.

Slughorn has a bunch of different potions out on the bench, and Lily thinks she recognises most of them. There’s only one that she isn’t sure about, and that’s because it’s hidden inside a lidded cauldron. There are no clues at all as to what could be inside. 

Slughorn works his way down the bench, explaining each one in turn, intent on impressing his new N.E.W.T. students with the array of wondrous potions they’ll be able to brew by the end of their seventh year studies. Eventually, he reaches the cauldron. When he lifts the lid, two things happen, almost simultaneously: Firstly, Lily identifies the potion as Amortentia. Secondly, she knows, categorically, that she’s completely and utterly screwed; because this is the moment.. 

The scent surrounds her, overwhelms her, consumes her. it’s everywhere, and it’s everything, all at once; Autumn. Cinnamon. Cedar. Broomstick polish. Forests. Peppermint. Every single inch of her is screaming one name: James. James. James. 

Slughorn slaps the lid back down, and the harsh metallic clang drags her back into the room, but it doesn’t matter because Lily’s reeling. How can this be possible? James Potter? How can James Potter be her Amortentia? 

She’s not blind, of course. She can see that he’s superficially attractive, with his broad shoulders, and his square jaw, and his sparkly hazel eyes, but Lily’s never been the sort of person who could fancy someone just because of the way they look. The fact is that James Potter is an arrogant toe rag, and Lily wants nothing to do with him, no matter what he looks like. She certainly doesn’t fancy him, in any way at all, does she? Does she?

No one knows, she reminds herself. No one else knows what the Amortentia smelled like for you. And no one else ever needs to find out.

With a supreme effort, she forces herself to keep her eyes on Slughorn. She has no idea what the professor is saying, but she can’t look at James now. If she does, if she lets her eyes slide so much as slightly in his direction, she’ll give herself away completely, she knows she will. This has to remain her secret. She needs time to think, time to work out what it means.  Deep down, though, she already knows what it means. It means she’s screwed.

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Character Development in Different Genres: Tailoring Personalities to Fit Your Story's Needs | Part I of Character Development Series

When it comes to writing, one of the most exciting and challenging aspects is creating compelling characters. Whether you're penning a thrilling mystery, a heartwarming romance, a gripping fantasy, or a thought-provoking literary novel, the characters you bring to life play a pivotal role in captivating your readers. However, not all characters are created equal, and tailoring their personalities to fit the specific requirements of your chosen genre is essential for a successful and engaging story.

So, how can you ensure that your characters shine in the context of their genre? Let's embark on an insightful journey into the art of character development across different literary landscapes.

The Foundation of Genre-Specific Characters

Before delving into the intricacies of character development, it's crucial to understand that each genre comes with its own set of expectations and conventions. While a hard-boiled detective might thrive in a gritty crime thriller, they might feel out of place in a whimsical fantasy world. Therefore, the first step in crafting genre-specific characters is immersing yourself in the nuances and tone of the genre itself.

For instance, in a fast-paced action-adventure novel, the protagonist is often characterized by their resourcefulness, courage, and determination in the face of danger. On the other hand, a character in a cozy mystery may possess a keen eye for detail, a sharp wit, and a knack for uncovering secrets amidst the charm of a small town. By understanding the core elements of the genre, you can lay a sturdy foundation for building characters that resonate with the expectations of your readers.

Investigating Character Traits Across Genres

Let's take a closer look at how character traits can be tailored to suit different genres:

1. Adventure/Thriller:

Courage and Resilience: Characters in this genre often face high-stakes challenges and adrenaline-pumping situations. Their ability to confront danger with courage and resilience is a defining trait.

Quick Thinking: Whether escaping a treacherous trap or outsmarting a cunning adversary, characters in adventure and thriller novels are often marked by their ability to think on their feet.

2. Romance:

Emotional Depth: Characters in romance novels thrive on emotional connections. Their vulnerabilities, hopes, and desires form the cornerstone of their personality.

Charm and Passion: A touch of charisma and passion can elevate romantic protagonists, making them irresistible to both their love interests and readers.

3. Fantasy:

Imagination and Wonder: In the realms of fantasy, characters embody boundless imagination and a sense of wonder. Their belief in the extraordinary and the magical defines their essence.

Epic Journeys and Destinies: From chosen heroes to enigmatic wanderers, characters in fantasy often carry the weight of epic destinies and monumental quests.

4. Mystery:

Curiosity and Intellect: Mystery protagonists are marked by their insatiable curiosity and sharp intellect. Their inquisitive nature drives them to uncover the truth hidden within the enigmatic plots of their stories.

Intrigue and Suspicion: Characters in mystery novels often harbor secrets of their own, adding layers of intrigue and suspicion to their personas.

Crafting Characters with Genre-Specific Flair

Now that we've glimpsed into the distinctive traits that define characters across genres, it's time to infuse our characters with that genre-specific flair. Here are some creative strategies to tailor your characters to fit the unique demands of different genres:

1. Know Your Readers:

Before sculpting your characters, get to know your intended audience. Understanding their expectations and preferences within a particular genre can guide your character development process.

2. Subverting Tropes:

While adhering to genre conventions is important, don't shy away from subverting tropes to inject fresh and unexpected elements into your characters. This can breathe new life into well-trodden genres.

3. Embracing Authenticity:

No matter the genre, authentic and relatable characters are the cornerstone of captivating storytelling. Infuse your characters with genuine emotions and experiences that resonate with your readers.

4. Reflecting the Setting:

Characters are not isolated entities; they are shaped by the worlds they inhabit. Reflect the essence of the genre's setting in your characters' mannerisms, speech, and worldview.

5. Dynamic Character Arcs:

Consider how your characters' arcs can align with the thematic essence of the genre. From personal growth in literary fiction to valiant heroism in fantasy, tailor their journeys to harmonize with the genre's spirit.

The Power of Balancing Familiarity and Innovation

While it's essential to cater to the expectations of your chosen genre, it's equally vital to infuse your characters with a spark of innovation. Readers are drawn to characters who feel both familiar and refreshingly unique. By blending genre-specific traits with innovative twists, you can create characters that stand out while remaining rooted in the essence of their genre.

Unleashing Genre-Defying Characters

In the ever-expanding universe of literature, the art of character development is a dynamic and thrilling endeavor. As you embark on the journey of crafting characters for different genres, remember to immerse yourself in the heart of each genre, cultivate characters with depth and resonance, and balance convention with innovation.

Ultimately, the characters you create have the potential to transcend genres, captivating readers across a diverse spectrum of storytelling. So, unleash your imagination, breathe life into your characters, and watch as they navigate the rich tapestries of diverse genres, leaving an indelible mark on the literary landscape.

So, fellow writers, as you embark on your next literary odyssey, may your characters be as diverse as the genres they inhabit, and may their stories resonate with readers far and wide.

Happy writing! Warm regards, Ren T.

[darlingmbappe]

Out of the Dark | Kylian Mbappé x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary: Though months of an almost picture-perfect relationship, Kylian still kept you hidden like his own personal secret. How are you supposed to feel like it doesn’t have something to do with how much you weigh?

Warnings: Feelings of being insecure about your weight, slight angst at the beginning, vague sex scene, cussing, not edited very well. Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

You’re so proud of him. Truly, he deserves every bit of praise he gets. Even before you’d met him, you followed his career closely, amazed at how someone your age could be accomplishing such monumental achievements. And now, you get to love him intimately, personally tell him how fantastic he is, how much you admire him.

You and Kylian have been together for around eight months, the greatest eight months. It was mutually agreed that your relationship would be kept in the dark from everyone. This seemed like the best idea, what with him having the status he does and you being just an average person. Besides, you’ve never enjoyed the spotlight and we’re happy to keep your weekly grocery store run paparazzi free.

Hidden behind that superficial excuse was the real reason why you were content not being in any tabloids… the bigger body you occupied wasn’t exactly something the media would ignore. You could practically read the headlines already, a reasonable delusion you constantly had to push from your mind in order to stay sane and secure.

It was hard work, learning to love yourself, building up your confidence. You knew you love and accept the body you had, but there was always that little voice in the back of your head saying, ‘am I strong enough to put myself out there like that?’

Kylian seemed relieved when you asked him if the relationship could be kept hush, but now you feel like it’s been too long. You’d brought up the idea of going public after your six month anniversary, but he dismissed it with a quick shake of the head, blaming his agent and how she would freak out if he was announcing a new relationship. She would set him up with dates for all of these events. Models, actresses, and influencers hung on his arm at red carpets while you snuggled alone on the couch, following the events through twitter.

He always assured you that he wished it was you, but it was too complicated. It was a viable excuse at first, but it’s four months away from your one year anniversary. You were tired of dropping hints about beautiful restaurants and romantic spots. You were starting to feel like he wanted to hide you, and not because of his agent would complain or his fans would uproar, but because he was ashamed of you. What a shitty feeling.

“What’s that look, amor?” Kylian asks your reflection in his bathroom mirror.

Not realizing you were lost in thought, you shake your head, leaning against the doorframe. “Nothing.” Smile. “You look great.”

He fixes his tie then turns to you. “Very convincing.”

You try and play it cool, laughing. “No, you seriously look amazing.” It was obvious he didn’t mean that part, but you really don’t feel like having this fight right now.

“So do you.” He grabs your hips, trapping you against him and the door.

Now you really do laugh. “Good one, Ky.”

While he wore a designer suit, you were rocking a pair of boy-short underwear and an oversized hoodie. Kylian was going to another super fancy award ceremony. He was getting a trophy and everything, but you couldn’t be there with him. Instead, he’s going to kiss the cheek of a tall, skinny, gorgeous 21 year old model when his name gets called. She was get to be his date for the night while you — the girlfriend — waited patiently in his bed for him to come home and tell you all about it.

The dynamic of the whole affair sets in, sending a little tang of jealousy and insecurity through your body. He notices how your stare points away from him now as you wiggle out of his grip and trudge towards his bed. Kylian walks toward you as you flip through Netflix without any intention of picking something anytime soon.

“I wish you could come with me.” He offers, his facial expressions ridden with guilt. You respond with a quiet and half-hearted hum, continuing to look through the true crime collection. He picks up your dismissiveness. “You know I do.”

“Mhm.” You didn’t mean the sarcastic tone behind it, it was just a natural reaction.

He sighs loudly, scratching his neck. “If you want to say something, say something. I can’t read your mind.” You continue to flip through shows and movies, trying to mask the sad expression that you surely couldn’t hide much longer. “We agreed to this. We both wanted it this way.”

“Eight months ago.” You add, looking at him now. He looked annoyed, like this conversation was a burden to have. “At some point I want to get out of this house. I feel like we should, I don’t know… rethink that whole part of our relationship.”

“This again?” He shuffles to the corner to grab his shoes with a huff. “You know how complicated that would be. You would hate attention like that.”

“Maybe I would.” You sit up in your spot while he sits at the foot of the bed, his back facing you. “So what? I might not love the attention but at least we get to go out to dinner, or take a walk together, or I could hug you after a match, or act like we’re together at all!”

He finishes putting his shoes on, still facing away from you. Kylian doesn’t say anything back for a while. You just waited for him, he had to say something eventually. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Not what you wanted to hear.

You nod silently, but that hurt. You watched him grab his phone and wallet on the nightstand as he prepared to leave so he can pick up his literal runway model of a date.

“Are you ashamed of me?” The words came out of your mouth without your permission, but there they were — shifting the mood of the entire conversation without a second of mercy.

He looks back, his eyes rid of any annoyance and replaced with something kind of depressing, a look you’ve never seen from him before. He opens his mouth right as his phone rings, he looks down at it regretfully, sighing out. “One second.” He murmers sorely before he answers it.

You bit the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears at bay. Crying seems like the last thing you want to do right now. You turn your attention back to scrolling through the now very blurry movies on Netflix. He mumbles something about being right down and hangs up. “I…”

“Yeah, yeah. Go.” You assured and bite your cheek harder, feeling the tears right there. “Can’t be late. Not a good look. I get it.” There was a clear harshness behind your permission.

“We’ll talk about this, alright?” He fidgets, making his way to you, kissing your forehead. You feel a tear fall and you wipe it just as quickly, not looking at him. “Hey,” he coos, lifting your chin up wo finally meet his stare. “I am not ashamed of you.” He wipes the tear and kisses your nose. “Okay?”

You nod, sniffling and casually wiping another stray tear away, offering a weak nod. “Okay.”

Kylian felt wrong for walking out at that moment. He knew you wanted to go public but never knew that you were feeling this way. It was something he wanted to unpack, something he wanted to make you feel better about.

That question drove him insane all night. His steak tasted dull, his wine tasted bitter, his date looked like nothing compared to you. She twirled her hair and batted her lashes, assuming he was single. Why wouldn’t she? Nothing in recent news even hinted at any kind of romance going on in the star footballers life, but he knew the truth. He knew who he had waiting for him under his covers, and she deserved better than what he was giving her.

The night crawled by, achingly clapping along with the crowd without really listening to what the applause could be about. After accepting his award, he only wished he could find you in the sea of strangers from the stage. He just wanted to go home. Lay with you, hold your hand, let you know his intentions.

Of course he’d thought about this secret relationship from your perspective. It’s weird, needing a date and not being able to take you, even if you were his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if the roles were reversed.

They kind of were once, and he hated that feeling with a burning passion. Your office held a Christmas party last year and everyone had to bring a date… something about even numbers for one of the holiday games they’d planned out. You mentioned it in passing that you were going with Neil, the handsome budget analysts that you considered to be one of your good friends. Kylian wanted to pick a fight so bad. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t like you going with someone else… but he couldn’t. You’d endured countless news articles pondering if he was dating one of the many women that accompany him, helped him look spiffy for these events, kissed him goodbye as he went to eat a nice dinner with hot models and actresses. How would that be fair?

Hours went by and you didn’t feel the need to wait up for him. These events could drag on for hours past your bedtime, and your mood tonight in particular didn’t feel up to listening to all the glorious details that he makes out to sound dreadful… free cocktails, gourmet food, meeting celebrities, making new friends… there were only so many ways to complain about it before it started sounding disingenuous. The more you thought about it the later it got, quickly time spiraled out of your control, finding yourself watching the busy streets of Paris through the open window from the bed. The frustration you felt when your eyes closed and all you saw was Kylian arm in arm with girls that weren’t you put a dreadful feeling in your stomach.

It couldn’t have been later than 1 o’clock in the morning when Kylian returned, his tie loosened, top buttons undone, jacket almost dragging on the ground as he trudged up the stairs, leaving the shiny new trophy by the door.

It’s kind of insane to him how on long days like these he craves your touch, your comfort. He never thought of himself as someone who could be dependent on another person, at least not in this time of his life. With his priorities set on becoming a legendary football star, he didn’t necessarily set aside time for romance, but you just… happened. Someone so unlike the others, your charm reeling him in until he knew he was done for. Helpless.

The pressure of the public eye is brutal. He knows first hand how the media can ruin a relationship, no matter how strong the pillars you stand on are. They find ways to chip you down, make you doubt everything, make you doubt yourself. You were innocent to it all. He wanted to keep you that way. Selfish, sure, but he knew it would eventually cause some vicious issues down the line. It happens every time.

As he walked through the bedroom door, the shape of your silhouette under the covers tugged on his heart. Though his brain was begging him to wash up in the bathroom and go to sleep, his feet lead him to your side of the bed.

He crouched down at eye level with you, petting a gentle hand on top of your head, taking his time to really look at your face. You eyes slowly opened, he offered a tiny smile that he didn’t even realize grew on his face.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, amour.” He cooed, running his thumb over your cheek.

“I can’t sleep.” You groggily respond, closing your eyes at his touch.

He leaned over, kissing your forehead continuously without pulling away. “I’ll come to bed in a second.” He mumbled against your skin before standing, taking off his uncomfortable outfit on the way. He made quick time brushing his teeth and washing his face, changing into a clean pair of boxer briefs before crawling into his spot next to you.

Without thinking twice, his hands latched around your waist, pulling your bodies close together and spooning you with his face nuzzled into your hair.

You were hyperaware of everything. The way that his hand landed on the puff of your stomach, the amount of room you took up on your half of the bed, the roll that formed when you laid on your side like you were. At the beginning of the relationship that’s all you could think about whenever Kylian wrapped his arms around you. It took you a while to not tense up and let yourself melt into his touch, but tonight you were taken back to the beginning. The questioning if you were ever going to be good enough. If you’d ever be taken seriously as a couple. If people thought you two looked weird together, that he could do better than you.

“You’re beautiful.” Kylian eased, snapping you out of your thoughts. He felt your muscles tight under your skin, he just wanted you to relax. “I mean it, (Y/N).”

You didn’t say anything back, gulping to try and get rid of the panicky lump in your throat. He kissed the shell of your ear, reaching his hand under your T-shirt and letting it land on your bare stomach.

You tensed up more, instinct telling you to get up and go to the bathroom or something to get out of this situation.

“Stop, bébé.” He clicked once feeling your squirming. “Let me hold you.”

The longer the two of you stayed silent, listening to each others breathing, basking in the warmth you both provided, you felt more at ease. He shifted slightly, letting himself look down on you while holding himself up on his forearm.

He touched your cheek, tracing tour eyelashes with his thumb. “I’m taking you out to a nice dinner tomorrow night.”

You furrowed your brows. “Out?”

“Mhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “That new Thai restaurant you told me about last week.”

The tears swarmed your eyes, a wave of happiness surging through your body like electricity. “Really?” Your voice came out squeaky, laced in weary excitement.

He smiled down at you, kissing your grin onto his own face. “Of course.”

“Oh, baby…” You coo, grabbing his face in your own hands, letting some of the tears run down the side of your face. “Thank you.”

Kylian wiped them away sweetly. “Don’t thank me. I should have done this a while ago. I shouldn’t have kept you hidden away all to myself for this long. It wasn’t fair to you, I’m sorry.”

You pulled his neck down and kissed his passionately, but the pace was slow. Eventually, your tongues greeted each other expertly, his legs climbed over to lay his body on yours, his hand roamed under your shirt to feel your bare tits. It wasn’t long before you both got rid of the minimal layers keeping you apart, desperate to feel safe in each others touch.

He was gentle, loving, caressing every inch. Kylian spent extra time loving on the places he knew you overthought about. The ones that people would point out in the past. He kissed and licked them while praising you, leaving marks to remind you how he felt about you. All of you.

You attempted to roll over and have him take you from behind, but he pushed you down. “I wanna see your face. Wanna watch you. Wanna look at you.” He was borderline incoherent, but completely lucid. He said all the right things, forgetting completely about the surefire wave of trouble that would be headed your way tomorrow night.

Kylian was drunk on your sweet sounds. The continued “ah, ah, ah”’s that escaped your plumped lips drove him insane, cumming inside your shaking walls while watching the pleasure grow on your scrunched face. You came while clutching his biceps, closing your eyes tightly in euphoria.

He cleaned you both up, wiping you down with a wet rag before laying back next to you. This time, he pulled you into his chest while he laid on his back, feeling your body now comfortable and relaxed, listening to your soft snores that tickled his bare chest.

The next morning, Kylian’s side of the bed was empty, but the vague memory of his sweet kiss that landed on your forehead before he left send butterflies to your stomach. The much clearer memory of dinner plans tonight erupted another wave of them, motivating you to get the day started as soon as possible, needing to get home and prep for a night you’ve been waiting for for way too long.

On the doorstep of your humble townhome sat a big white box, a pink letter taped to the top with your name written nicely on top. It was obviously Kylian’s penmanship; neat but a little wonky. You giggled to yourself, bringing the box inside and opening the envelope.

To my sweet (Y/N),

You will look so beautiful tonight. I can’t wait to see you. Be ready by 7:30.

I love you, bébé.

-Kyks

You pressed the card dramatically to your chest, humming at the sweetness overload from your boyfriend. Though you wanted to relish in that moment, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to see what the hell was in the box.

“Oh, wow…” You gasp as you catch the first glimpse of the dress that sat neatly on the tissue paper. You pulled it out, putting it against your body. It was a pink floral midi dress, form-fitting at the top, looser on the skirt and a slit that ran down the side. It was gorgeous. Perfect. Thank god that Kylian has a sense of style or else you’d be making your debut in an ugly outfit… Even better, you were thankful he knew your size because that thing fit like a glove. Goddamn… you look so sexy in this.

Time flies, it really does. Especially when your brain is working overtime thinking about the absolute worst things that could happen. You couldn’t stop yourself from taking two shots of tequila to calm your jittery nerves, hoping the shaking in your hands or the knot in your stomach would subdue before the knock on the door came. But, alas, it came…

You took a deep breath in the mirror, checking yourself from head to toe. Confidence is something you had to build, and it’s so much harder than people make it out to be. Fake it ‘till you make it can only take you so far, the rest is real work, especially in a world that praises people who look the opposite of you.

You’d hear your thinner friends complain about how fat they looked right in front of you, as if you didn’t have to live in that reality every single day. It was like their worst nightmare was looking like you. They’d tell you “you’re not fat, you’re beautiful!” As if you couldn’t be both. You’d walk closely to the wall and try and take up the most minimal amount of space possible — as if you could hide your size, feeling like every judgmental eye was on you all the time.

It was the little things that added up (along with the more brutal comments you’d get through life), but your skin was thick. Thick, yes. Unbreakable? You were about to find out. As soon as you stepped out under the mercy of the public eye with him… you’ll be tested how much you can actually take. How much this relationship could actually take.

You swung the door open to reveal the most handsome sight you’d ever seen. Kylian wore an all black suit. You thought to yourself that this must be what the models of the past were used to opening their doors to. Now, it’s finally your turn.

Kylian was holding a bouquet of flowers that matched your dress, showing off a huge smile. He seemed like he wanted to speak words, but his eyes spoke for him, much louder than anything his voice could come up with.

He eyed you up and down, a visible gulp making you want to retreat into yourself shyly. “Hi.” You meeped, cheeks sore from the smile you couldn’t shake.

Kylian cleared his throat, blowing out a raspberry. “You…”

He continued to eye you, walking in slowly as you shut the door behind him. “You did good with this dress.” You complimented, taking the flowers from his hands and walking them to your sink to grab a vase.

“The dress is just a dress, amour.” He growled, watching your backside like a lion would his lioness, infatuated with every curve and crease your body created under the material. “You in that dress? Tu blagues?” Are you kidding me? He stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your stomach and kissing your shoulder. “Oh lá lá…”

You laughed, lulling back into his touch, basking in his warm and secure embrace. “You always say the right things, Mbappé.”

He hums, unwrapping his arms and taking the flowers you were cutting from your hands, taking over the process. You stepped back and watched him as he filled the vase up with water, dropping them in with precision, one by one until they displayed beautifully.

He set them next to the bottle of tequila and shot glass you'd left out. He raised an eyebrow at you.

You shrugged. "For the nerves."

"Ah..." He nods, opening the cabinet and grbbing a tiny glass for himself, pouring the golden liquid into each one, holding one out to you. "To nerves of steel." You clinked your glasses, throwing your heads back and shivering as it went down. With a grimace, he shook off the taste of the drink. "Ready?"

Your mouth was dry despite the liquid that still lingered in your mouth. You inhaled deeply, faking a smile on your face while grabbing your purse. "Yep."

Kylian sensed the waver in your confirmation, reaching out to hold both your hands. "They're going to say whatever they're going to say. We can't control their thoughts on our relationship." He kissed your knuckles and all the rings you'd decorated your fingers with. "But we can't let them keep controlling us."

"I love you." You say, looking deep into your man's eyes and thinking about all the emotions you've seen them hold. The frustration after a loss. The playfulness before sex. The adoration during the first I love you that slipped his tongue. The relief that washed away the anxious look when you said it back.

"Your carriage awaits, princesse." He takes your purse and hold your hand, leading you both to the door that he opened for you.

You thanked him as he helped you into the large town car, running around to the other side and sat next to you.

As you neared the restaurant, his hand never leaving your thigh, you just looked at him, taking in every ounce of his being.

He wasn't ashamed of you. He loved you. He cared, he listened, he was perfectly yours. You knew no matter the things you'd surely read about yourself, the things you'd surely think about yourself at times, that Kylain would be a constant. This new chapter might bring some hard times, but you'll stand with Kylian. And he'd stand with you. You knew he would.

A/N: Plus sized ladies never get nearly enough representation on this platform. Hope you all enjoyed, this is something I wrote from my own feelings/experiences being plus sized! Love you all so much.

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @http-isabela

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Riley Green X S!nger fem reader

Riley had always loved the road. The hum of the bus wheels, the blur of landscapes passing by, and the energy of performing live for his fans were all parts of the life he adored. But this tour was different. It had a new, exciting edge to it, and the reason was Y/N L/N.

Y/N was an up-and-coming artist with a voice that was both raw and enchanting. Her music had a soulful depth that resonated with audiences, and her lyrics were poignant and heartfelt. Riley had noticed her talent early on and invited her to open for his tour, knowing she would captivate the crowd just as much as he did. What he hadn’t anticipated was how captivated he would become by her.

Rumors had started to spread like wildfire. Fans and industry insiders alike speculated about Riley and Y/N’s relationship. The two of them seemed inseparable, often seen laughing and talking backstage, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. Then came the whispers about a duet a song they had supposedly written together. Fans were buzzing with excitement, and the anticipation was building up to a fever pitch.

Riley and Y/N had been trying to keep things under wraps. They cherished the moments they had in private, away from the prying eyes of the world. They spent late nights writing music, sharing stories, and slowly falling in love. Their song, “You Look Like You Love Me,” was the culmination of their shared experiences and emotions, a melody that told their story.

As the tour progressed, the day of their big reveal grew closer. Tonight, they would perform their song together for the first time, and Riley had something special planned. They had kept their relationship a secret for long enough, and he was ready to share his feelings with the world.

Backstage, just before the show, Riley found Y/N in her dressing room. She was sitting in front of the mirror, her guitar resting on her lap, looking more nervous than he had ever seen her. Riley walked in, his presence immediately calming her.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting down beside her. “You ready for this?”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. “I think so. Are you?”

Riley took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. “We’ve got this. The fans are going to love the song, and they’re going to love us together. I promise.”

They spent a few more minutes together, going over the song one last time before it was time to take the stage. The venue was packed, the crowd buzzing with anticipation. Y/N performed her set flawlessly, her voice captivating everyone in the room. Then it was Riley’s turn. He took the stage with his usual charisma, performing his hits and thrilling the audience.

Finally, the moment arrived. Riley paused his set and addressed the crowd. “I’ve got a special treat for y’all tonight,” he announced, his voice echoing through the arena. “There’s a new artist I want to introduce to you, someone incredibly talented and very special to me. Please welcome Y/N L/N!”

The crowd erupted in applause as Y/N walked back on stage, her guitar slung over her shoulder. Riley joined her, his guitar in hand, and they began to play “You Look Like You Love Me.” Their voices blended perfectly, the chemistry between them palpable. The audience was mesmerized, completely drawn into the intimate performance.

As they reached the chorus, Riley stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s. The lyrics spoke of a love that couldn’t be hidden, a connection that was undeniable. And then, as the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, Riley made his move.

He gently set his guitar down and walked over to Y/N, pulling her close. The crowd held its breath, sensing something monumental was about to happen. Riley looked deep into Y/N’s eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed her.

The arena erupted into cheers and applause, the fans going wild. Flashbulbs popped, capturing the moment for eternity. Riley and Y/N stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around them fading away. In that instant, everything felt right.

As they pulled away, Riley took the microphone once more. “I guess the rumors are true,” he said with a grin, looking at Y/N with pure adoration. “We wrote that song together, and it means a lot to both of us. And yes, we’re together. She’s not just an incredible artist; she’s the love of my life.”

The crowd roared in approval, their cheers echoing through the night. Y/N, blushing and beaming, took the microphone from Riley. “Thank you all so much,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “This tour has been an amazing journey, and sharing this moment with you all is something we’ll never forget.”

The rest of the concert was a blur of energy and excitement. Riley and Y/N performed with a newfound intensity, their love fueling their music. As the night came to a close, they stood together on stage, hand in hand, basking in the adoration of their fans.

Backstage, as the adrenaline began to fade, Riley and Y/N found a quiet moment alone. “We did it,” Riley said, his voice filled with awe and gratitude.

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Yeah, we did. And it was perfect.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, they knew that this was just the beginning. Their love and music would continue to grow, and together, they would face whatever came their way. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: they would travel it together, hand in hand, their hearts forever intertwined. The concert was over, and the crowd had slowly trickled out of the venue, leaving behind an empty but still electrified space. Riley and Y/N had basked in the afterglow of their performance, enjoying the lingering cheers and applause that had filled the arena. But now, as the night deepened and the lights dimmed, it was just the two of them again.

The tour bus was parked out back, away from the commotion of the fans and crew. It was their sanctuary, a place where they could be themselves without the prying eyes of the world. As they climbed aboard, the hum of the engine and the gentle swaying motion provided a comforting backdrop.

Riley closed the door behind them, the click of the latch signaling the start of their private time. The interior of the bus was cozy, with plush seating and warm lighting that cast a soft glow over everything. Y/N was still buzzing from the performance, her heart racing from the adrenaline and the kiss they had shared on stage.

Riley turned to her, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and affection. "You were amazing tonight," he said, his voice low and husky.

Y/N smiled, her cheeks still flushed from the excitement. "So were you," she replied, stepping closer to him. The air between them was charged with an electric tension, a palpable heat that seemed to grow with each passing second.

Riley reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she leaned into him, craving more of his closeness his lips inches from hers.

Before she could respond, Riley closed the distance, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. It was as if all the pent-up emotions of the evening were pouring out, a fiery mix of love and desire that consumed them both. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

Riley's hands roamed over her back, exploring the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. The intensity of his touch sent waves of heat through her, and she responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed against him.

They moved together, a tangle of limbs and heated breaths, until they reached the back of the bus. Riley guided her to the bed, gently laying her down on the soft sheets. He hovered over her for a moment, his eyes locking onto hers with a look of pure adoration and desire.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding with anticipation. "I've never been more sure," she replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

With a deep, rumbling groan, Riley captured her lips again, his hands beginning to explore her body with more urgency. He slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders, revealing more of her soft skin. He kissed a trail down her neck, savoring the taste of her, the warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

Y/N's hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards until he pulled back just long enough to strip it off. She marveled at the sight of him, his toned muscles illuminated by the soft light. She traced her fingers over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her touch.

Riley's hands found the zipper of her dress, slowly pulling it down until the fabric pooled around her waist. He kissed his way down her collarbone, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached the swell of her breasts, he paused, looking up at her with a smoldering gaze.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

Y/N blushed under his intense gaze, her body aching for more of his touch. "Riley, please," she murmured, her voice breathless with need.

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a swift, fluid motion, he removed the rest of her dress, leaving her in just her underwear. His hands roamed over her exposed skin, eliciting a moan from her as he kissed and caressed every inch of her.

Y/N's fingers fumbled with the button of his jeans, her urgency mirroring his. Riley helped her, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until they were both bare, their bodies pressed together in a heated embrace. The sensation of skin against skin was almost overwhelming, the intensity of their connection taking her breath away.

Riley's hands were everywhere, exploring, teasing, and driving her wild with need. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance of passion. When he finally moved lower, his mouth trailing kisses down her stomach, Y/N could barely contain her desire.

"Riley," she gasped, her fingers gripping the sheets as his lips found the sensitive spot between her thighs. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and she cried out, her body arching towards him.

Riley took his time, savoring every moment, every sound she made. When he finally moved back up, positioning himself above her.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too,” she replied, her voice shaking with the intensity of her feelings.

With a gentle, yet insistent motion, Riley entered her, the sensation sending a shockwave of pleasure through both of them. They moved together in perfect harmony, their bodies finding a rhythm that was both urgent and tender. Each thrust, each touch, each kiss brought them closer to the edge, their connection deepening with every moment.

The world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, lost in their own world of passion and love. As the intensity built, their movements became more frantic, driven by an overwhelming need to be as close as possible.

When they finally reached the peak, it was a wave of pure ecstasy that crashed over them, leaving them breathless and spent. Riley collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they lay there, their bodies still entwined.

For what felt like ages, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the steady beat of Riley’s heart a comforting rhythm against her cheek. The world outside could wait. For now, it was just the two of them, lost in each others eyes.

[stellar-skyy]

ALL I WANTED WAS YOU — Furina x reader.

i. SUMMARY: [Name] is scheduled to perform at Fontaine's Christmas Show, and there's only one person they want in the audience. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Use of pet names (dear, darling, love), mentions of food, reader is a singer. iii. NOTES: Fluff, very mild angst, singer!reader, established relationship, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used 2.1k words. iv. A/N: This is my entry for the @2023gisecretsanta gifted to @the-white-void! I hope you enjoy, White!

A layer of ice had settled across the streets of Fontaine overnight, leaving the buildings awash in snow and frost. The weather had pushed most of the citizens indoors in search of warmth, where the battering cold could not touch them and the fire could heat up their frozen bones. Nonetheless, Furina and her partner strolled along the pathway, hands conjoined, perfectly content in the chill.

“Extra! Extra!” A young newsy called out behind them, waving a rolled-up paper in his hands. “Fontaine’s annual Christmas Show is only days away! Read all about the confirmed acts, as well as potential surprise acts!”

[Name] tilted their head in curiosity as they passed, straining to listen to the boy’s faint rambles about the newspaper's theories on who might be performing that night. Some of them were delightfully wrong, missing the mark entirely, but some of them—

“Could the singer [Name] [Last Name] be one of the performers? Read on why we think so!”

Some were right.

“This morning is beautiful,” Furina sighed, letting go of their hand to cling to their arm. She pushed her cheek against their shoulder, making a small noise in contentment. “I adore winter. There’s nothing quite like waking to snow outside, with frost creeping up your windows, and a pleasant chill in the air. Making a warm cup of tea to stave off the cold… it’s lovely, wouldn’t you agree?”

They hummed in concurrence, while beside them, a shivering couple looked over at her incredulously. Furina was oblivious, turning her eye to the posters advertising the Show.

“And of course, the Christmas Show.” Furina sighed mournfully. A worried glance was shot her way.

“You’re not a fan of the Show?” They ask carefully, trying not to let disappointment flow through their tone.

Furina laughed lightly. “Oh, I enjoy it plenty, on the occasional year I attend. I simply don’t care for hearing about it every time I set foot out of my home.” She paused, adding “Though, the programme is supposed to be good this year. I keep hearing about some big names that might be joining.”

It wasn’t just her. Fontaine's people could hardly turn a corner without hearing another rumour about who might be showing up that night, with each guess being more illustrious than the last.

Their excitement wasn’t unfounded: the lineup was star-studded, featuring Lyney and Lynette opening the show with a brand-new performance. The famed director Aurelie’s former troupe was even speculated to be re-uniting for a show in her honour, but with the organiser’s insistence on keeping part of the show a secret, rumours stayed rumours.

The organisers had been so tight-lipped about the surprise acts, that very few were aware of [Name]’s confirmed appearance. They were scheduled as the second last act of the night, in a slot reserved for the best of the best; an honour that came with a monumental amount of pressure. With the buzz surrounding who might be performing, there was a certain air of expectation that followed.

Suffice to say, the nerves were settling in.

“Did you want to stop and get a drink?” They motioned towards a quaint little café tucked into an almost hidden corner of the street, like it was placed there as an afterthought. “I have something important to ask you.”

“Of course,” Furina rubbed her cheek against their shoulder as they walked, much like a cat. “I’m all ears, love.”

The pair settled in a small table at the back. Inside, the air was crisp and warm, in stark contrast to the cold wind that scraped against the door and windows. A faint tune echoed from a gramophone, opposite a display of pastries that rested on the countertop.

Furina eyed the treats with the hunger of someone who hadn’t eaten in weeks before getting tossed into a bakery. Rows of rich chocolate eclairs, paired with tiny strawberry tarts, next to colourful macarons and cakes dripping with icing... it was enough to give them a toothache just looking at it.

“Furina?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m paying attention, darling.” She paused, gaze drifting back to the display. “Though, a strawberry pastry might help me focus even more…”

“Furina.” They near whine.

“Alright, alright.” She chuckled, turning her attention directly to them. She rested her chin on her hand, smiling lightly at them. “What’s on your mind, love? You’re practically shaking with nerves.”

“I… I need to ask you something.”

“Mm, you said that.”

“It is… important.”

“That too.” Furina squinted at them, her airy expression fading to make way for something far more serious. She reached her hand across the table to cup their chin, lifting it to meet their eye. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Her eyes drifted across them, gentle and sweet and completely unguarded. It was a wonder, how quickly that gaze soothed the tension in their shoulders and let their breathing slow to a steady pace. One look from her was enough to settle all the doubts that haunted their mind, stripping away their worries and leaving them bare. There wasn’t a need for words of reassurance or flattery; not when she looked at them with such soft eyes.

The buzz of fear lingering in the back of their head began to fizzle out, to make way for a rush of confidence. They seized the feeling, clasping their grip around the edges of it and—

“I want you to come to the Christmas Show.” They finally blurted out.

Furina stared at them like they’d sprouted horns and turned into a mitachurl. “…Alright. I must admit, with you so nervous I thought you were going to ask something more… important. I was already considering going, but if you’d like to go together—”

“No, no!” They shake their head hurriedly. “Not like that!”

She blinked back at them. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

“I’m going to be performing,” They explain, a touch of nervousness seeping through. “It’s this Sunday, it starts at six at the Opera Epiclese.”

“You’re performing?” Furina gasped lightly. “Oh, why didn’t you tell me! I would have made sure I was available right away!”

“I guess… I was just… worried…” They trailed off. It didn’t explain anything, but she caught on within moments.

“You were… worried?” Furina blinked, her features shifting in puzzlement. “About what I’d think? You thought I would judge you?”

A shift in their posture, and a careful aversion of their eyes was all the answer she needed.

“Oh, my dear,” She breathed a sigh, running her gloved hand down their cheek, stopping with one finger hooked under their chin. She gently tilted it upwards to face hers. “Darling, I love you. And I cannot think of anything that would change that fact. I don’t care if it’s something trivial, or if Celestia itself was after you. You never have to worry about me judging you.”

She wished she could murmur each word into their skin until they were branded across it like tattoos, each one a reminder of how much she loved them.

“I’m going to come to your performance,” She promised. “I’m going to sit in the best seat, and I’m going to cheer so loud, and clap until my hands hurt. And it will be because you did amazingly!”

“Thank you,” A smile washes over their features.

She brings their hand to her lips, kissing the words against their skin. “You are so welcome, love.”

A lump in their throat made itself known. Their nervousness had posed a new problem. In the days pondering between whether or not they had the courage to ask her to come, the build-up of excitement had left tickets few and far between. Most seats were already booked, with the only ones left being positioned right at the back where one would have to squint to see the front of the stage.

“It might be hard to get good tickets now.” They admit sheepishly. Furina only giggled into their hand.

“Don’t you worry, dear. I might not have my titles anymore, but they'd hardly let anyone else in my booth. And even if they did—I have my connections."

───── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ─────         

Furina’s ‘connections’ did wonders in reserving the top booth just for the two of them. Once [Name] had managed to squeeze past the bustling crowds and through the hallway leading to the private section, they were treated with two plush chairs: one empty, and one seating a smiling Furina.

She beckoned them to sit, intertwining their hands together as the lights dimmed and a hush descended over the opera house.

The first half of the show was as breathtaking as the promotion had promised. Lyney and Lynette’s act had the audience mesmerised, the acting troupe performed a touching show about the spirit of the holiday, and by the time the lights were turned back on and the intermission was announced, the audience was already raving. They could only imagine the reviews in the Steambird the very next day, promising a spectacular show that was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

As the intermission began, so did their cue to head backstage to prepare for their performance. Before they could move, Furina had already tugged on their hand sharply to pull them towards her. She planted kisses across their cheeks, over their nose and forehead and finally meeting their lips.

“Good luck,” She whispered against their mouth. “I believe in you.”

They slid into place backstage, moments before a loudspeaker announced the end of the intermission.

“And now, esteemed guests… please welcome to the stage [Name] [Last Name].”

All the people gathered behind the curtain shot them grins and whispered encouragement as they passed. Lyney smiled warmly and tipped his hat in a mock bow, while Lynette gave them a polite nod. The frazzled organizers even took the time to spit out a hurried “Good luck!” before they went back to quietly arguing amongst themselves.

Their steps slowed, their hand caught the edge of the curtain. It was soft, velvety under their fingertips. In each rehearsal, they’d run their fingers absent-mindedly along the edge while waiting for their cue. With practice after practice, the feeling became like second nature.

The familiar texture was enough to ground them to the stage, pulling them firmly into the present. They continued; stopping in the dead centre of the stage where a tiny marker was etched out onto the ground. They barely had time to fix their collar and adjust their pose—feet planted firmly on the ground, chest held high, hands folded behind their back—before the curtains drew aside.

Light hit their eyes first, before the rest of the room appeared.

The audience stared in anticipation. The opera house was dead silent, with all the crowd waiting with held breath for their performance. With the spotlight shining directly at them, they had to squint to see more than a hazed blur of faces in the depths of their vision.

The music started, and a thread of nervousness began weaving through their chest. There were countless eyes fixed on them, but they were yet to meet the ones they were looking for. The thread tightened, and a flicker of unease flashed through their mind. Where was she?

One more glance was tossed into the crowd, higher this time, until they saw the top booth.

And there she was: Furina, grinning unabashedly with adoration pouring from her expression. She caught their eye, leaned forward in her seat, and blew a kiss. The simple gesture was enough for a smile to pull at their face, just as the music started to swell.

They opened their mouth, and began to sing.

───── ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ─────         

“[Name]! You were incredible!” A voice called out. They could hardly put it to a face, with the amount of people crowding around them.

“They were, weren’t they?” Lyney cut in smoothly, subtly moving to stand almost in front of them. It was a welcomed gesture, taking the attention off them and moving it onto someone who was very much used to the spotlight.

The performers had agreed to gather in the foyer after the Show to talk to audience members, accept congratulations, and sign autographs in Lyney and Lynette’s case. [Name]'s intentions were far less in favour of the audience—or, most of the audience at least. They kept their eyes sharp, scanning across the crowd for any sign of blue.

“Hey! Excuse me! Please, let me through—”

They turned, blinking in surprise as a blur surged towards them. It caught them around the waist and pulled them into a tight embrace that lifted their feet off the ground.

“You. Did. Amazing!” Furina squealed, spinning them around. “Did you hear me? I was cheering the loudest.”

Laughter, wild and carefree, tore away from their chest. Somehow, they couldn’t bring themself to care about everyone looking at them, only the girl in their arms.

“Merry Christmas,” Furina said softly. Their only answer was a kiss.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[quotevarchive]

hey! hope this ask finds you well. so, im a bit of an amateur digital historian (in that i take internet history seriously) and i like to write casual essays about websites from time to time. quotev flew up on my radar when i saw some yall on cohost, and ive been reading everything i can about it for the last several days. from what i've gathered, nobody really knew quotev's double life except for q users themselves. in fact, it's been such a well-guarded secret that most are unaware of quotev's existence, much less that it was a quiz site with a secret component to it. so i am putting out a call to you and any quotevians reading: would any yall be open to contributing to a quotev post-mortem? it seems like it was a pretty monumental site to many users, and as for the pain of its loss, i understand it myself: the website i consider basically 'my highschool years' went dark just last year, and knowing that it's essentially lost to everyone but those who were there for it bums me out. BUT quotev is still fresh in the minds of the people who called it home, and i'd love a chance to learn more about its unique culture and what made it so special to its users, even if many users now feel betrayed by it. if you do publish this ask (which you are under no obligation to do so), anyone reading it is free to send me an ask directly and i'll make sure my anon is on in case anybody wants to remain anonymous. also just in case i need to clarify, i'm not trying to write a smear piece or anything tabloidesque involving individual users - i want to know quotev as users knew it, whatever was loved and hated and why it will be bitterly missed.

yes hi!!! This ask is so exciting to me because I have been a little too into quotev history and dynamics and social interaction (hence the blog) for a few years now. I only started “archiving” in late 2022, but feel free to look through my older posts for any info. everything's a bit clogged up with the “quotev death” posts but back in the archive there’s a decent amount of stuff. I collect whatever i can. also feel free to hmu if you have any specific questions.

the hidden social media of quotev was always such a funny thing to me. Even older users who used to roleplay or make quizzes and fanfics there didn’t seem to be quite aware that it had become so centered around the activity feed, and of course any mentions of it on bigger platforms like youtube were always like “cringe 12y/o fanfic haha.” (Not that anything we actually did was any less silly.) anyway, i was always torn about this because i did NOT want quotev to become more popular, but i wished people knew about the crazy shit that really went down there. Your post-mortem is a great idea because you’ll be telling the story of social quotev with no worry of sending new users to the site…because he is already dead

I highly encourage any followers who have fond memories or stupid stories to submit them!

[inception30daychallenge]

Inception 30 Day Challenge 2024: Get inspired, share your hot takes and win prizes!

Create a post, whether it be text, art, music, or any other media, using these 31 items as prompts. Feel free to participate in as many or as few of them as you want!

Copy the prompt into the body of the post somewhere and tag your posts with @inception30daychallenge, #inceptiversary, and #inception30daychallenge. Your posts will be reblogged on this blog for everyone to appreciate!

You earn one entry for every prompt you answer before 11:59 PM EDT on July 31. We’ll hold a raffle then to determine our prize winner(s)! More info can be found in our FAQ.

Prompts below the cut, or at this Google Doc link!

Day 01: Your favourite thing about the movie.

Day 02: Classify each character according to the Alignment Chart. (For more details on what each box means)

Day 03: A post-canon headcanon.

Day 04: Arthur’s secret phobia.

Day 05: Your favourite line in the movie.

Day 06: A fic rec!

Day 07: If you had to change a scene from the movie to have a musical number, which scene would it be?

Day 08: What songs/artists are on Eames’ main playlist?

Day 09: Which character has the most annoying habit on the job and what is it?

Day 10: A headcanon about your favourite character.

Day 11: Mal’s favourite fairytale.

Day 12: Your favourite setting in the movie.

Day 13: A fanart rec! (note: please do not repost art from tumblr artists! just reblog it and tag @inception30daychallenge so we can see it.)

Day 14: What skills would you bring to a dreamshare team?

Day 15: Cobb’s greatest parenting strength and weakness.

Day 16: Inception Day! Make anything Inception-related! Take a photo, write a poem, make a meme, sing a tune, whatever you want!

Day 17: How did the team spend the rest of the week on the first dream level?

Day 18: What building or monument does Ariadne wish she designed?

Day 19: Your favourite bit of fanon.

Day 20: Another type of rec! (meta, podfic, fanvid, edit, meme, blog, whatever!)

Day 21: What would you want to use dreamshare technology for?

Day 22: What skill does Robert wish he had?

Day 23: If you had to be stuck on a deserted island with an Inception character, who would you choose?

Day 24: A headcanon about your favourite friendship or relationship.

Day 25: When Saito was a child, what did he want to be when he grew up?

Day 26: Which summer Olympic sport would each character compete in? 

Day 27: A self-rec! (anything from art to a funny Tumblr post you made!)

Day 28: What piece of media would you want to see in a crossover with Inception?

Day 29: Something Yusuf keeps hidden in his desk.

Day 30: If the characters were all in a band, what instruments/roles would they play?

Day 31: A letter to Inception fandom.

[the-grey-hunt]

Hidden Whispers: Green Text In Ghost Trick

(grabs you and shakes you by the shoulders) WHAT DOES IT MEAN. COME WITH ME ON THIS JOURNEY

So last night I was playing ghost trick, as you do, but more importantly, I was playing it myself for the first time and paying a lot more attention to the words as a result. And something kind of...odd...happened in the submarine.

That green text isn’t Lynne, or it would be a continuation of her black text with her sprite visible, instead of her text breaking off with an em dash. It explicitly isn’t Sissel, who wonders if he’s hearing things. So…who, or what, is it?

Let’s examine our evidence. First: Where does green text already appear in Ghost Trick?

(screenshots taken from my switch and from this playthrough)

In chapter 6, Detective Rindge speaks in green over the radio:

And later, in Rindge's four minutes before death, we see that from his perspective, he's in black text and the Chief (over the radio) responds to him in green:

(above screenshot taken from Secret Sleepover Society's playthrough because I didn't get to see this text in Lacry's)

In chapter 7, the conversation Rindge hears through the "ladybug" is also green...

...including in the "new present", when he hears the chef instead:

This tells us that one use of green text is to indicate that we are hearing someone who is out of Sissel's normal range. (We know that Sissel can't be too far away from humans if he wants to hear what they're saying, such as in the restaurant when Beauty and Dandy leave the trunk behind.)

But these aren't the only instances of green text. There are two others:

In chapter 14, the text of the meteorite monument is written in green. This means that green text can also indicate the written word, information that is being conveyed to Sissel (maybe read aloud to him?) from a format he isn't able to access.

This is also supported by the second example I mentioned:

In the Final Chapter, when Yomiel repeats Fiansissel's note, the text of the note is in green. It's the written word, something Sissel can't "hear", being transmitted to Sissel in a way he can understand.

And there's one more example of green text...

When Yomiel has a flashback to what Lynne said to him in the destroyed Yonoa, her text is in green. Again, it is something Sissel is hearing when he wouldn't normally be able to hear it (after all, Lynne isn't there! This is in the park, after he leaves Lynne and Kamila behind).

So if green text indicates Sissel hearing/understanding something he shouldn't be able to...

...what IS he hearing in that clip? He knows he's hearing something; he's surprised by it; it's something he thinks he could dismiss as his imagination.

The answer is both obvious and so convoluted it's taken me this long to even realize there was a question:

Yes. That's right. It's Ray. (also yes, that's right. I'm putting the 'keep reading' cut HERE.)

Q: BUT HOW?!?!?!?!?!

A: Not only COULD it be Ray, it HAS to be Ray. The green text in that clip is a reference to an "unstoppable (M/m)issile"!

Not only that, in order for Ray to catch Sissel like this in the ghost world at the very end, he had to have been in the park to speak with Sissel in the ghost world.

As we've seen, ghosts require proximity to be able to speak to each other. Sissel can't talk to a ghost (powered or unpowered) unless they're close enough for him to reach; he doesn't speak to Missile once Missile-leaf has blown away until he physically encounters the leaf again.

Ray had to be in the park when the "new future" was made in order to talk to Sissel here. In order to reach the park, he had to be brought back with the others when they rewound to Yomiel's death. In order to do that, he had to have been on the submarine to journey with them to the control room.

(It was a crowded torpedo, is what I'm saying).

Q: It could be regular Missile speaking. After all, his ghost was there.

A: If present Missile and not Ray was speaking, it would be black text—his ghost is close enough for Sissel to hear, as he's still right there with Kamila!

Q: But Ray was in the junkyard—

A: Was he? Ray stops responding to Sissel as the night goes on, if you keep visiting the junkyard. If you try to talk to him before going to Lynne in Temsik Park (around midnight/1 AM), there's only "...".

Ray had made it to the submarine before in his timeline; he knew how to get there. Was he losing strength and "unable" to talk, or was he not there at all to speak to Sissel? Did he leave hours beforehand to make sure he would get to the Yonoa in time?

Q: Wouldn't Sissel have noticed Ray was gone?

A: Is there *any* point in the game where Ray's "spiritual flame" self is visible in the lamp? There would be no visible difference.

Q: Wouldn't they have noticed him on the torpedo?

A: They didn't notice Yomiel.

Q: How does that even work? With not being able to see the flame, or not realizing another ghost is there, and wouldn't Sissel have seen Yomiel's flame in his body in the very first scene—

A: Listen this post is already long enough.

And there's one more piece of evidence I've been holding out on:

Ray-timeline Sissel, quoted by Ray to Sissel, speaks in green text. A piece of speech Sissel wouldn't normally have been able to hear, but is hearing through another.

And...why green, anyway? Isn't it interesting that there are multiple colors of text in this game? Besides the "normal" black text, there's green, there's red, and there's...blue.

Red text, Sissel's color, is used to denote clues, parts of dialogue or narration that are important to Sissel's quest and help guide him along the path towards the truth behind "the mystery of me".

Blue text, the color of Yomiel's ghost world, indicates 'private thoughts' that, nonetheless, affect the people Sissel interacts with. Something "secret" reaching out and ending up in other characters' heads anyway (because after all, it's not speech but 'thought' beamed directly into a mind...)

And then green text. Text that reveals important knowledge that, despite all the obstacles in the way, is conveyed to Sissel anyway. The color, essentially, of lore-drops, tutorials, and the "hidden truth" revealed.

Of COURSE the green text in that one mysterious moment is Missile. *It's his color.*