#here they are them trouble makers...

[picspammer]

Rings of Power Week 2023 Day 6 _ Favourite Peoples: Elves🧝‍♂️

[dykealloy]

the main problem with the law luffy alliance is that law unfortunately hasn't learnt the art of setting the straw hats on an island like a rabid invasive species or perhaps deadly incurable virus and then taking a step back for a couple weeks to go. idk harvest some organs or something. get back on coke like he was in sabaody. maybe come back intermittently to check if anyone's in imminent threat of dying.

[vaguely-concerned]

I feel that during the first coffee date walk through the market, rye has a fraction of a millisecond's kneejerk trauma freakout of '...wait. wait. am I really catching feelings for a rich boy again. with how that went down last time. am I truly that stupid' (once derogatorily referred to quite openly at a party as 'young master anaxas' pet mortalitasi' to which the young master anaxas only grinned and shrugged and STILL you don't break up with his smug controlling ass for good for six more months because you have a desperate bottomless yearning pit where your self respect should go, twice shy lol). and then he actually looks at lucanis standing next to him getting harding spearmint to help with bad dreams and generally being so quietly thoughtful and sweet through the prosaic yet necessary medium of grocery shopping it makes me feel a little unwell to truly contemplate. and rye is like '*the softest fondest eyes anyone has ever turned on anything* ...you know what. I suspect we don't have to worry about that repeating, I think we're probably safe. I am comfortable being this level of stupid. (slowly dawning marital intent even at this stage)'.

(part of the reason rye buys NONE of illario's bullshit at all right from the beginning is that he's basically vaccinated against this exact type of dude after that relationship lol. charming suave guy who in the beginning pays you a lot of lavish attention and takes pains to make you feel special every time you're in a room with him -- but shallowly and mostly, it slowly dawns on you, when there's something he wants from you (and he's often doing it at the expense of someone else, raising you up to put someone else down and you won't believe this... it can turn into a seesaw at a whim. yay). and beneath that there's just a seething pit of resentment and inferiority complexes and bitterness left to fester until he can make it everyone else's problem and that IS going to start to bubble up between the cracks with you too if you stick around for long enough. no thank you been there done that wasted my youth and potential on it and all I got was this lousy shiny set of new emotional intimacy issues haunting me for life! trust me illario I HAVE, as it were, chosen the wrong dellamorte before, which is exactly how I know I didn't this time. go get him lucanis I've got your coffee

hilarious mental image: rye and illario sitting quietly together while everyone else is busy milling about during a cursed dellamorte family dinner (the vibes are so bad. you know the vibes are bad. sitting as still as you can and hoping for calm skies is your best bet without lucanis or teia favourite child privileges to work with) and rye out of the blue gazing thoughtfully into nothing over the edge of his glass with half-lidded eyes to go 'you know. you remind me a lot of my ex. not in a good way' and illario with absolutely no shame and hilariously also something that's the closest he ever gets to real sympathy going 'yeah, I get that a lot'. best talk those two ever had, unironically. their bond leveled up to its final form that day. *soulsborne boss defeated text* MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING REACHED)

[kneelbeforeclefairy]

What I think is most different and most striking about Sunrise on the Reaping is how CYNICAL it is. To some extent we knew it was going to be. This is a midquel. That the reapings go on and the Hunger Games only ends 25 years later is a forgeon conclusion. We know nothing that happens here is going to work.

The book is about implicit submission, and why, with numbers on their side, the many submit to the few, even when the few are unjust. And it's because, the book seems to say, numbers aren't ENOUGH. the Newcomers alliance is much bigger than the Careers. They should be able to team up and defeat them easily. But they don't. Eighteen of them are killed outright, because the Careers have the strength, the skill and the training. And that's just that.

Plutarch asks why the tributes don't overwhelm the Peacekeepers during training, and Haymitch is rightfully outraged at the privilege of this question. Why don't they? Because they probably couldn't kill them all, and even if they could, what good would it do? It wouldn't stop the Hunger Games. It wouldn't change a thing. No one would even know about it outside that room, because the Capitol would change the narrative. Just like Katniss and the Star Squad can't REALLY take on the Capitol single handed and assassinate the president, the scrappy alliance of kids can't really do any real damage to the system the Capitol has in place. All they can do is choose if they want to die now or later. So why don't they, if there's no difference to them, as Plutarch asks. Because, as Snow puts it. Hope. The slight chance that one of them will come out of it. And, more cynically, the hope that if they are good tributes and obey, their families will be left alone. If they choose to rebel and choose to die now they guarantee retaliation against their families and perhaps their entire district. We see that even in the tributes that attack the Gamemakers in the arena. They rise up, they break that bond of implicit submission--and they die bloody for it.

Why don't they rebel? Because they don't have the privilege to lose.

Even Lenore Dove, the Joan of Arc of Twelve, fails to do any real damage or have any real effect. All she does is get herself a reputation for being a trouble maker, and eventually get herself killed. Was she killed as part of the retaliation against Haymitch, or was her punishment because she's a rebel, and that's what happens to rebels? (and Snow hates covey girls.) but she fails because she IS alone. She focuses on small, symbolic acts that do nothing, but that she hopes will rally the people to action.Unfortunately, the people of Twelve don't want their lives to get any worse, and they don't have the privilege of spending time and energy on revolution the way a teenager girl whose family doesn't need her income to survive does--sadly, Twelve will remain this way, in an uncanny valley where they're beaten down enough to need change, but not enough to have NOTHING to lose. They are not one of the districts that rise up. So acting alone does nothing, teaming up does nothing. How does one fight an enemy with better technology, better weapons, and better organization? Beetee's plan doesn't work out. Of course it doesn't. Could it ever? Was it just borne out of grief for his son? And even if it had, then what? What was the plan? Haymitch's poster gets edited away. The Newcomers fail. Lenore Dove dies. The most you can say is Haymitch himself becomes too important to kill, like Beetee, and Snow let him live to fight another day, but so destroyed that he no longer WANTS to.

So, then, what WORKS?

The answer is, quite cynically, Plutarch's version of the world. Numbers mean something, there are more of US than there are of THEM , but that isn't enough. You need weapons, you can't bring a knife to a gun fight, you need EVERYONE on your side. You need organization, not just a series of disconnected rebellions, and you need an Army, provided by Thirteen, as problematic as they are. The timing just needs to be right. And most crucially, what I think Plutarch and everyone involved here learned is that victory belongs to those who control the narrative. Those who control the flow of information and tell their story. And it's not Plutarch, for all his cameras and his propos and his idea behind The Mockingjay, who eventually does that well.

It's Haymitch.

Who learned to tell a story and sell a narrative with himself and the Newcomers. Who tried to paint his poster in the arena only to see it rewritten in front of him. Who won't make that mistake again. When it's time for the deciding factor in the revolution, it's Haymitch who creates the Mockingjay-- and is he also using Katniss and her image? Yes. but he at least sees Katniss and the human she is inside it, unlike Plutarch who hasn't changed much from the man who makes a grieving family do reshoots over and over so he can get his footage, while congratulating himself for letting Haymitch have his goodbye.

When Katniss sets off the spark twenty five years later, the world is ready. The work is in place. Plutarch, Haymitch, Beetee, everyone can say GO , and this time it'll work. So buckle in, and wait for the Long Game, even though only Plutarch really has the privilege to wait, the rest of them don't have a choice. It's cynical. It's awful. People die. The lone rebels and the plucky girls and the alliance depending on its numbers all fail. Plutarch motherfucking Heavensbee, the richest of the rich the privilegedest of the privileged, pulls off the revolution, takes the credit, and lives to see the end of it, without ever once examining his own privilege, and unpacking the fact that despite his head being on the right side of history, he's never managed to see the Districts as PEOPLE . (and you could argue, ANYONE as people. ) But it's just the only way.

But this book isn't the middle of the series. It's the end. How awful would it be to read if we didn't know that Katniss and the Mockingjay rebellion would eventually succeed. We know that despite the cynism of a failed revolution and all its players, that one day it WILL work out. This book is called sunrise on the Reaping....the sun rises on a world where this is inevitable. But one day it won't be.

[hayatheauthor]

The 7 Faces of Friendship: Character Types to Include in Your Book’s Friend Group

Having a balance of different personas helps create a comprehensive cast for your novels. To get started, here are the 7 main friend personas to consider:

1. The Leader

Description:

The leader is the driving force behind the group. They are often assertive, confident, and willing to take charge in various situations. This person is typically seen as a decision-maker, guiding the group toward plans, activities, or goals.

Traits:

Charismatic: Naturally draws people in and inspires others.

Decisive: Quick to make decisions, often with a clear vision in mind.

Responsible: Takes ownership of the group's well-being and direction.

Role in the Group:

The leader often organises outings, mediates conflicts, and keeps the group focused on shared goals. They are instrumental in making plans and ensuring that everyone feels included.

2. The Caregiver

Description:

The caregiver is the heart of the friend group, always looking out for others. This person is empathetic, nurturing, and willing to lend a helping hand or an understanding ear.

Traits:

Compassionate: Deeply cares for the feelings and well-being of others.

Supportive: Always ready to offer encouragement or assistance.

Attentive: Notices when someone is feeling down or needs help.

Role in the Group:

The caregiver often acts as the emotional glue, fostering connections and ensuring everyone feels valued. They are typically the ones organising gatherings to celebrate friends or supporting them through tough times.

3. The Comedian

Description:

The comedian is the life of the party, always ready with a joke or a funny story. This character brings humour and lightness to the group, helping to relieve tension and elevate the mood.

Traits:

Witty: Quick with humour and often makes clever observations.

Playful: Approaches life with a sense of fun and spontaneity.

Positive: Maintains an optimistic outlook, even in challenging situations.

Role in the Group:

The comedian keeps the atmosphere lively, ensuring that laughter is a common thread in the group. They often defuse tense situations with humour and help create cherished memories through fun experiences.

4. The Adventurer

Description:

The adventurer thrives on new experiences and excitement. This character is always seeking thrills, whether that’s trying out a new restaurant, going on spontaneous trips, or participating in extreme sports.

Traits:

Daring: Enjoys taking risks and stepping outside of their comfort zone.

Curious: Eager to explore new ideas, places, and experiences.

Energetic: Brings enthusiasm to the group, often encouraging others to join in.

Role in the Group:

The adventurer often leads the charge for new experiences, pushing the group to try things they might not have considered. They inspire others to embrace spontaneity and explore the world together. Often contradicts the leader.

5. The Intellectual

Description:

The intellectual is the thinker of the group, often delving into deep conversations and pondering life's big questions. This character values knowledge and is well-read, informed, and curious about various topics.

Traits:

Analytical: Enjoys breaking down complex ideas and analysing situations.

Inquisitive: Asks questions and seeks to understand the world.

Articulate: Communicates thoughts clearly and effectively.

Role in the Group:

The intellectual can help stimulate meaningful conversations, adding depth to the group's interactions. More of a quiet yet important presence. They help get the Adventurer out of trouble, and are likely found bantering with the Comedian from time to time.

6. The Connector

Description:

The connector is the social butterfly of the group, adept at bringing people together and building relationships. This character thrives on interaction and often knows everyone’s stories, interests, and backgrounds.

Traits:

Sociable: Enjoys meeting new people and introducing friends to one another.

Empathetic: Understands social dynamics and helps others feel comfortable.

Resourceful: Knows where to go for recommendations and suggestions.

Role in the Group:

The connector enriches the group by fostering relationships and creating opportunities for social gatherings. They often organise events and help deepen bonds within the friend circle. They are generally close to the  Caregiven and the Leader’s partner/close friend.  They help the Leader and Intellectual settle on ideas that are both fun and functional thus appeasing to the whole group. 

7. The Realist

Description:

The realist is grounded and practical, providing a balanced perspective within the friend group. This character approaches situations with a level-headed attitude and often focuses on the facts at hand.

Note: While the intellectual is an inherently smart person, the realist is the apathetic and logical force of the group. They don’t have to necessarily be smart but are insightful.

Traits:

Pragmatic: Values practicality and often offers sensible solutions.

Sceptical: Questions overly optimistic or unrealistic plans.

Honest: Tends to speak their mind, even when the truth is uncomfortable.

Role in the Group:

The realist often acts as a counterbalance to more idealistic characters, helping the group assess risks and make informed decisions. They provide a sense of stability, ensuring that plans are not just fun but also feasible.

Edit: you don't NEED to have 7 friends each with one persona. You also don't need to have all 7. One person can be the caregiver to A and realist to B. They can be the leader in one friend group but the comedian in another (showcasing their comfort with the latter). This is just a list to help pan out your character personality types!

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[dearlenore]

CRAWLING BACK TO YOU • S.REID

SUMMARY: when Spencer finds himself back in his hometown on a case, he never expected to run into you, his Highschool sweetheart.

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a trouble maker , reader is a lil manic pixie dream girl core…(sorry) fluff for the most part! Usage of y/n once or twice??

a/n: pretend he’s a normal age in Highschool…

w/c: 1.0K

YOU ALWAYS KNEW you’d run into Spencer Reid again.

Not because you were pining—please, you had moved on. But because fate had a funny way of making things come full circle. And considering the way Spencer used to insist on rational probabilities while you believed in cosmic inevitability, this moment felt like a win.

The moment being Spencer walking into the café where you were currently stirring far too much sugar into your overpriced latte.

You spot him before he sees you. He’s taller, sharper, and still somehow manages to look both put-together and like he forgot what sleep is. The FBI badge clipped to his belt is an interesting touch, but the most fascinating part?

He doesn’t notice you.

Yet.

You wait until he’s focused on whatever case file he’s holding—because of course he’s reading while waiting in line—before making your move. Sliding out of your chair, you weave through the café with the ease of someone who has perfected the art of casual entrances.

Then, right as he’s reaching for his wallet, you lean in close.

“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude to show up in my city without saying hello?”

Spencer tenses. Then, slowly—like he’s calculating the statistical likelihood of you being real—he turns his head.

The moment his eyes land on you, you see it. That flicker of recognition. The slight widening of his gaze. The way his lips part, just barely, before he catches himself.

“Y/N?”

You grin. “Doctor Reid,” you tease, stepping back with a dramatic once-over. “Wow. You got all serious-looking. When did that happen?”

His mouth opens, then closes. “I—what are you doing here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh, living? Some of us didn’t run off to Quantico and forget about our hometown.”

“I didn’t—” He sighs, rubbing his temple. “I didn’t forget.”

“Mmhmm.” You sip your latte, unimpressed. “So, what, you’re just in town for a case? Here to be all important and FBI-y?”

Spencer glances around, then leans in. “You know I can’t talk about that.”

“Ooooh, classified,” you whisper dramatically. “That’s fun.”

Spencer exhales sharply, but you see the small, reluctant smile threatening to form.

Some things really never change.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “Are you gonna pretend you’re too busy saving the world, or can I steal a little of your time?”

He hesitates, and for a second, you think he might actually say no. But then he looks at you—the way he always used to, like you were a puzzle he never quite solved—and sighs.

“Fine. But only for a little bit.”

You grin, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward your table.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Spencer hesitates for a moment before following you to your table. You see it in the way he shifts his weight, in the way his fingers drum against his coffee cup—he’s debating whether this is a bad idea.

It probably is.

But that’s never stopped you before.

You slide into your seat, crossing one leg over the other as he settles across from you, still eyeing you like he’s waiting for you to disappear. You tilt your head, smiling.

“You know, you can blink. I promise I’m real.”

Spencer exhales, setting his coffee down with a careful precision that screams I am trying not to react to you. “It’s just… unexpected.”

You hum, stirring your drink again even though there’s nothing left to mix. “Unexpected how? Like seeing an old friend and thinking, ‘Wow, I should’ve kept in touch with them’ kind of unexpected? Or more of a ‘This person is a walking distraction and I should flee immediately’ kind of unexpected?”

His lips press together. You grin.

“Should I be concerned that you categorized those so quickly?” he asks.

“I like to be prepared,” you say breezily. “So? Which one is it?”

Spencer exhales, finally meeting your gaze properly. “I did think about keeping in touch.”

Something flickers in your chest. A warmth, a whisper of oh.

But you keep your expression light. “You? Doctor Spencer Reid? The guy who’s too busy solving the world’s problems? Please.”

“I’m serious,” he says, voice softer now. “I just… didn’t know how.”

That makes you pause.

Because for all your teasing, for all the bravado you so easily slip into, there was a time when Spencer was a constant in your life. Back in high school, when he was the awkward genius with too many books and you were the sharp-tongued force of nature who refused to let him disappear into the background.

You still remember the late-night conversations, the times you dragged him out of his comfort zone just to prove he could survive outside of academia. And, of course, you remember the way it ended—quickly, cleanly, like ripping off a bandage.

Spencer got his big FBI opportunity.

And you? Well, you weren’t about to stand in his way.

You twirl your spoon between your fingers, choosing your words carefully. “You could’ve just called, you know. Or written one of those overly detailed letters you used to leave in my locker.”

“I—” He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You still remember those?”

“Please. They were like little research papers on us.” You smirk. “If I recall correctly, one of them included an entire probability breakdown on why we were ‘statistically likely’ to last through college.”

Spencer groans, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“It was sweet,” you admit, before adding, “and incredibly nerdy.”

Spencer lifts his head, giving you a look. “Well, you liked nerdy.”

You shrug, sipping your drink. “I liked you.”

The words come out easily—too easily—but you don’t regret them. Because it’s true. You did like him. A lot. Maybe even more than you ever let yourself admit.

Spencer clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “And now?”

The question lingers between you, heavy with meaning.

You could be coy. You could tease him, brush it off like you always do. But something about the way he’s watching you makes you pause.

So instead, you smile. Soft. Honest.

“I think I still do.”

Spencer doesn’t move for a moment. Then, ever so slightly, his fingers tighten around his cup.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, almost like he’s testing the word out. “Me too.”

The café hums around you, the sound of coffee beans grinding, of quiet conversations, of the world continuing like nothing has changed.

But for you?

Something just did.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi! Can I please request a fic where the reader is the young daughter of an F1 driver (you can pick who if you want), and one day she steals his phone in the paddock and starts running around filming everything like tyres, garages, the cars, even some drivers and she’s making the cutest little comments the whole time? A team social media admin notices and just lets her take over filming for them, and they post the video later and it becomes the most popular thing the team’s ever posted because everyone falls in love with her commentary? (The video from admin can be the drivers walking in or a tour of one of the teams garage)

Future Film Maker

The sun was shining down on the paddock, and the familiar low hum of activity buzzed through the air. It was Friday morning, and George had arrived bright and early — but this time, he wasn’t alone.

"Alright, sweetheart, you ready for a big weekend?" George asked as he lifted little Yn out of her car seat.

The three-year-old beamed up at him, her eyes bright with excitement. She wore a miniature Mercedes team shirt that practically swallowed her tiny frame, and her hair was pulled up into two tiny buns on either side of her head. A lanyard with her name and a VIP pass swung around her neck.

"Race cars!" she squealed.

George laughed, kissing her forehead. "Yes, race cars. But you have to promise to be good while Mama’s working, okay?"

Yn nodded very seriously, though George knew that promise would be short-lived.

The paddock was bustling with mechanics, drivers, and media personnel as George walked through, Yn perched securely on his hip.

"Hey! Look who’s here!" Alex said, walking over with a big grin. He bent down to Yn’s level. "Hello, Miss Trouble."

"Hi, Uncle Lex!" Yn giggled, holding her arms out. George passed her over with a fond sigh.

"You’ve got five minutes before she gets bored and starts plotting something," George warned.

"That’s five more than last time," Alex joked.

Yn looked around the garage, then spotted something shiny. "Tyres! Big tyres!"

"You want to see the tyres?" Alex asked. Yn nodded furiously, so he carried her over to the tyre stacks.

George watched, amused, but soon got pulled into his engineering briefing. Carmen had been swamped with back-to-back shoots and meetings, and George hadn’t hesitated to take Yn for the weekend. It wasn’t even a question — he adored any excuse to spend time with his daughter.

What he didn’t know was that while he sat through fuel data and sector times, a small storm was brewing.

Yn, ever the explorer, was now back in the garage sitting on a little stool with George’s phone — which she had sneakily taken from his bag.

"Cameraaa…" she whispered as she tapped on the screen until the video app popped up. She grinned.

"Hi! It’s me. Yn. I’m at Daddy’s work. Look!" She panned the camera dramatically to the floor. "That’s a shoe. It’s Uncle Lex’s shoe. Very fast shoe."

The camera wobbled as she got up and toddled around the paddock. She pointed it at a mechanic’s back. "That’s… um. I dunno who that is. But he’s workin’. So shhh."

A few meters away, one of the Mercedes social media admins, Mia, blinked in surprise as she noticed the toddler filming.

She crouched down gently beside Yn. "Hey there, Miss Yn. Whatcha doing?"

"Makin’ a movie," Yn replied confidently, still filming.

Mia smiled. "That’s cool. Want some help holding the phone so it’s not so wobbly?"

"Yes, please. You have nice shoes," Yn said.

Together, they held the phone steady as Yn continued her documentary. "This is the garage. It’s loud. My ears go beep beep when it’s loud. This is a car. It’s my daddy’s car. It’s very very fast. Vroom."

From behind, Charles approached, sipping on a water bottle. "Is our little Spielberg directing something today?"

"Uncle Cha!" Yn squealed, abandoning the phone momentarily to run into his arms.

Charles caught her easily, lifting her into a hug. "Are you being a good girl today?"

"I’m makin’ a movie! Want to be in it?"

Charles chuckled. "Of course. Should I smile? Pose like this?" He made a silly face that had Yn giggling uncontrollably.

Mia took the phone and kept filming as Yn directed him.

"Say: ‘I go zoom zoom!’"

Charles played along, throwing his hands up. "I go ZOOM ZOOM!"

"Cut!" Yn yelled dramatically.

Later, she ran into Lando, who was talking with one of his engineers.

"Uncle LaLa! I’m filming! Be in it?"

Lando turned and knelt. "Of course I will. What’s my line, Miss Director?"

"Say: ‘I’m cool.’"

"Easy. I am cool," he said with exaggerated flair.

Yn nodded. "Okay, you can go now."

Lando laughed. "Tough crowd."

In the hospitality tent, Toto was enjoying a quick lunch when he felt a small tug at his pant leg.

"Hi, Mr Toto! Can I have a bite?"

He turned, surprised, and found Yn looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Of course," he said with a warm smile, offering her his fork. "Don’t tell your papa I gave you his favorite part."

She chewed thoughtfully. "Tastes like chicken. But not chicken. Fancy chicken."

He burst out laughing, and Mia — still filming — made a note to keep that clip.

All around the paddock, drivers began noticing the little girl toddling around, narrating things in her high-pitched voice.

"That’s Uncle Lew. He laughs lots. That’s Oscar. He’s my friend. He smells like soap."

"This is a helmet. I can’t wear it. It’s BIG. Like my head is in a spaceship."

Drivers smiled, stepping aside to let her pass, sometimes walking behind her to make sure she didn’t trip or get too close to anything dangerous. Carlos followed her at one point for ten minutes straight, just in case.

By the end of the day, Mia had collected over thirty minutes of Yn’s footage.

"I’ve never seen anything like it," she told her colleague. "She’s gold."

George eventually found his daughter curled up on the couch in the media room, his phone still in her hand.

"Hey, you," he whispered, lifting her carefully.

"Dadda," she mumbled, already half-asleep. "I made a moovie."

"I heard," he said with a chuckle. "Can’t wait to see it."

The next morning, Mercedes’ social media posted a five-minute cut of the video with the caption: A day in the paddock through the eyes of our smallest team member: Yn.

Within minutes, it exploded online.

Fans flooded the comments:

This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

Give her the camera every weekend, I beg.

Uncle Lex’s shoe is iconic now.

Fancy chicken. DEAD.

Even rival teams reposted it with heart emojis and laughing reactions.

George held Yn on his lap as he scrolled through the comments. "You’ve gone viral, love."

Yn blinked at him sleepily. "I’m famous now."

He laughed. "You sure are."

By Sunday, drivers kept stopping by with snacks and toys for Yn. She sat in a little chair beside the engineers, wearing oversized headphones, proudly pointing things out to anyone who’d listen.

"That’s the telemetry. It goes beep. Daddy says that’s good."

Even Lewis came by, kneeling beside her. "Heard you’re the boss around here now."

Yn nodded seriously. "I make movies. Maybe you can be in my next one."

"Only if you let me wear cool sunglasses," Lewis grinned.

She thought about it. "Deal."

George just smiled from a few feet away, heart full.

His girl, his world — and now, apparently, the internet’s too.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💚🐍

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LUXURIOUS aeri uchinaga x reader

౨ৎ warnings: popular mean girl x loser athlete, swearing, yn plays soccer(football or wtv I don’t care honestly) and aeri is super rich, drinking, angst, fluff

aeri liked to think of herself as a simple girl she liked attention, shopping, money, and her friends. sometimes her friends. and the only thing she truly despised was-

sports. an unfortunately male dominated activity in the professional world and in schools, but interestingly, not at this school. well, only for one sport.

soccer.

the girls’ soccer team was the most funded, medal winning team in the school. they were popular, big on social media, and the school's main money makers. they were also total machines.

kinda.

"this is the team the school is known for?" aeri asked, filing her nails with a bored expression. "I’m unfortunately not impressed. these editors sure know how to hype them up it has to be the sexy music in the background."

"they're literally stretching." jimin looked at her, squinting. "they haven't even done anything yet. plus, this is practice."

"exactly!" aeri replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "so why are we here? most classes are finished, we should be shopping or something."

"we're here to watch minjeong practice, duh," yizhuo said.

"exactly. we're here to support our friend," jimin added, looking at aeri, who scrunched up her face.

"minjeong is barely my friend," she said, shaking her head while analyzing her nails. "she doesn’t fit our aesthetic. why would you guys adopt a soccer player? is this, like, a charity thing? are we getting filmed? if so, cut everything I just said and get my good side."

"look! they’re taking out the ball now."

aeri didn’t even glance up at yizhuo’s words, too engrossed in her phone. ugh, she couldn’t believe they had dragged her out here just to sit on the bleachers and watch a bunch of brainless jocks kick a ball around.

time passed, and aeri tuned out most of what was happening, busy plotting her escape. maybe she could say her mom needed her for an emergency modeling gig. or that her dad had a last-minute business meeting and required her presence. two things that would never happen, but jimin would probably see right through her anyway.

she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the gasps and shouts around her.

until something hard slammed into her face.

her head snapped back, and her phone tumbled from her hands.

a soccer ball. she had just been hit in the face with a soccer ball.

"oh shit!"

"good one, yn!"

“shut up yunjin!”

aeri shrieked, clutching her forehead as laughters and are you okays erupted from the field.

"oh my gosh, aeri."

jimin placed a hand on aeri’s shoulder, only for her to be brushed off. "are you okay? that looked like it hurt."

it did.

but aeri wasn’t about to admit that. instead, she inhaled sharply, her voice dropping low. "who the hell did that?"

jimin pointed toward the field. right at her.

standing between yunjin and ryujin, nervously biting the nail of her thumb, was the culprit.

they locked eyes. one gaze wide and doe, the other sharp and burning with rage.

guess which was which.

"hey, are we allowed to keep this since it hit aeri in the face?"

both girls turned to look at yizhuo, who was holding the soccer ball like it was some kind of prize.

aeri barely spared it a glance before snatching it out of yizhuo’s hands. then, without hesitation, she stormed onto the field.

"you’re fucked, y/l/n."

"here comes trouble."

"can you guys shush?"

yn barely had time to process the situation before aeri was right in front of her, glaring up at her with fire in her eyes.

without a second thought, aeri hurled the soccer ball straight at her.

unfortunately, yn caught it. effortlessly. with both hands.

yn blinked, tilting her head slightly, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips.

"i’m so sorry. you see, I have this condition where I just kick the ball really hard. it’s called strong leg disorder—"

"that’s not a thing."

"can you shut up? I’m trying to save my own life here." yn shot a glare at ryujin before turning back to aeri. "there’s no cure. I really wish there was. I would never intentionally mess up your pretty face—not that you aren’t still pretty now, after what just… uh… happened. but, you know…"

her voice trailed off as aeri’s glare darkened. yn winced, mentally kicking herself.

"do you think i’m an idiot?" aeri stepped closer, eyes locked onto yn, who instinctively leaned back only for her teammates to shove her forward, straight into the lion’s den.

"I really want to say no," yn admitted, hands raised slightly, "but I’m scared it’s a trap."

then, as if she wasn’t a whole athlete who could easily overpower aeri, she squeezed her eyes shut like she was bracing for impact.

"you’re lucky I don’t call my dad and get you kicked off the team."

instead of looking scared, yn only furrowed her brows. "he can do that? i thought he owned a car company."

"woah, woah, woah."

chaewon, the team’s captain, stepped in, hands raised in a peacekeeping gesture. "let’s not get too hasty. she’s one of our best players we can’t lose her."

"that thing?" aeri pointed at yn, who mouthed thing? in offense, glancing at yunjin, who was barely holding in her laughter. "is one of your best players? she hit me in the face."

"and I totally get why you’d be mad," chaewon said, cutting off yn when she tried to interject. "she’s an idiot."

yn scoffed. rude.

"but," chaewon continued, "she will make it up to you. i promise. in fact, you can choose how."

"wha—"

"i’m trying to save you here. shut up."

aeri’s expression shifted, mischief glinting in her eyes. yn turned to her team with sheer horror in hers.

"i can choose?" aeri repeated, her voice dangerously sweet.

"…okay."

then, she turned back to yn, who swallowed.

"you," aeri said, watching as yn stiffened.

"yes?"

"you’ll know by tomorrow."

and just like that, she spun on her heel, strutting off the field without another word. her friends scrambled to grab their things and follow because she was their ride, and she was not about to wait for them.

yn exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face.

"you’re so fucked." yunjin whistled.

"can you guys not state the obvious right now?"

it was nighttime, and aeri still hadn’t figured out what she wanted yn to do. everything she thought of felt too cliché. with a sigh, she opened the app she claimed to hate and typed in yn’s full name.

to be honest, she hadn’t known who the girl was until today. sure, she knew of the soccer team who didn’t? they were impossible to ignore in the dining hall, always causing some sort of disaster. and the edits, god, the edits. do you know how many times she had to click not interested?

but now that she thought about it… she’d never seen any of yn. maybe she wasn’t a fan favorite.

or so she thought.

aeri’s eyes widened as she scrolled. video after video edit after edit all of yn. the captions were unhinged , the comments even worse. but before she could even process it, she found herself immersed.

yn wasn’t bad looking.

while she was scrolling, a notification popped up yizhuo had sent her a live. aeri clicked on it, only to realize it was huh yunjin’s.

"I feel like if  I wasn’t a soccer player, I’d definitely be a basketball player." yunjin spoke as she ripped open a bag of chips, turning to ryujin beside her.

"I feel like you wouldn’t even play sports if it wasn’t for soccer," ryujin shot back. "and yn? she’d definitely play hockey."

"yeah, after me, yn’s probably the second most likely to get into fights on the field."

aeri laughed. that loser? fighting?

the mention of yn’s name sent the chat into a frenzy.

user1: where did she go?? 😭 user2: ugh bae needs to come back user3: yn playing hockey… im shaking user4: she needs to come back rn

come back?

"fuck, I poked my eye."

yunjin and ryujin turned just as yn walked back into the frame, squinting one eye while adjusting her beanie.

aeri’s gaze flickered to the screen. yn had her hoodie slung around her neck, exposing her toned stomach and sports bra. the chat went absolutely feral.

so yn was wanted, huh?

aeri leaned back against her pillows, lips curling into a smirk.

just like that, a light bulb flickered in her head.

yizhuo struggled to keep up with aeri’s determined strides as they made their way toward the field, where the girls' soccer team sat catching their breath. sweat dripped down their faces as they sipped from their water bottles, still recovering from the first half of their practice.

“wait, why are we here again?” yizhuo asked, slightly out of breath.

“shut up.”

aeri’s sharp eyes immediately landed on yn, who stood in front of  ryujin and yunjin, laughing at something she had just said. whatever it was, it clearly struck a nerve ryujin’s jaw dropped in offense before she squeezed her gatorade bottle, spraying water directly into yn’s face.

yn let out a dramatic yell, stumbling back as the rest of the team burst into laughter even chaewon.

but the moment aeri called out, “yn!”, the laughter died instantly.

yn wiped at her face with her sleeve, still grinning until she turned around and saw who was calling her. her smile vanished.

aeri wasted no time, marching right up to her and jabbing a finger against yn’s chest. “you’re gonna be my personal girl toy." yn blinked. "huh?"

she glanced over her shoulder at her teammates, but before she could even process what was happening, aeri grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her back around.

"eyes over here." aeri tilted her head, voice smooth, almost teasing. "you’re gonna follow me everywhere i go and do whatever i say. got that?"

yn’s brain short circuited. "uh… is that even legal?" her face burned at the proximity. "I just—sorry—uh—"

"is that excuses I’m hearing?" aeri cut in, unimpressed.

"no? I was just asking a question-”

"then I have nothing else to say." aeri shrugged, turning on her heel like that was the end of the conversation.

just as yn opened her mouth to protest, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

"y/l/n! who the hell are you talking to?"

yn exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping. "sorry, coach!" she shot aeri a pleading look. "you need to leave, like, now. he’s already on my ass."

aeri studied her for a moment before smirking.

"meet me after your practice."

and with that, she spun around and walked off, yizhuo trailing behind her.

yn let out a breath, rolling her shoulders as she stepped out of the changing room, still toweling off her damp hair. her baggy sweatpants hung low on her hips, barely clinging on, and her oversized team hoodie was slung over her shoulders, revealing the tank top underneath. she adjusted her hoodie absentmindedly, already dreading whatever ridiculous task aeri had planned for her.

but she hadn’t expected to see aeri leaning against the wall right outside the girls' changing room, arms crossed, looking like she had been waiting forever.

"you just stand outside girls’ locker rooms now?" yn asked, rubbing the towel over her head.

"I was losing patience," aeri said simply, pushing off the wall. "you take longer than I thought. what were you doing, a whole spa treatment in there?"

"some of us actually shower after sweating for two hours," yn replied. 

“so, what? I  just follow you around and get you stuff now?"

"yeah," aeri confirmed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "you follow me, you do what I say, and you get me whatever I need. and in return, you get to be seen with me."

yn blinked. "...what?"

"people are always jealous of me," aeri continued, casually inspecting her nails like this was just another tuesday for her. 

“but I just recently found out how valuable you are. I mean, did you know people on the internet practically worship you?"

yn's eyes widened slightly. "what—"

"seriously, it’s insane." aeri shook her head, like she was still processing the horror of it all. "you’re, like, a phenomenon. and if I have you following me around like a puppy, it’ll make people even more jealous of me."

yn stared at her. "...that’s your whole plan?"

"yes."

"that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard."

aeri shrugged. "stupid, but effective."

yn exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "you know what? alright. I’ll see you around."

"great!" aeri clapped her hands together. "be ready for tomorrow."

"what happens tomorrow?"

"I’m taking you shopping."

yn groaned.

the next day, yn found herself standing in the middle of an expensive boutique, arms full of shopping bags that weren’t even hers.

"I feel like I should be getting paid for this," yn muttered, shifting the bags to one hand so she could pull her hoodie sleeves up.

"you’re getting something better," aeri said, examining a designer bag.

"which is?"

"me."

"wow," yn deadpanned. "so generous."

"I know, right?"

as yn adjusted the bags in her arms, she caught their reflection in a nearby mirror. she looked ridiculous, carrying all her stuff, while aeri strutted around like a runway model.

"you know," aeri mused, looking yn up and down, "you actually look really good like this."

yn raised a brow. "like what?"

"doing what I want."

yn nearly dropped the bags. "what—"

"I mean, look at you," aeri continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "following me around, holding my bags, waiting outside my class for me. it’s a good look on you."

"yeah, whatever," yn muttered, looking away, ears burning.

aeri grinned. "so cute."

aeri wasn’t sure when it started happening, but she was noticing yn way too much.

at practice, yn would be running drills, sweaty and focused, and aeri would catch herself staring.

when yn would wait outside her class, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, aeri would find herself smiling before she even realized it.

and when yn showed up at her house for the first time, dropping onto aeri’s bed and ranting about soccer practice, aeri found herself just… watching her.

yn was so expressive when she talked, hands moving, eyes lighting up when she got passionate about something. and god, she was attractive. even in her stupid soccer gear, hair messy, voice slightly raspy from yelling on the field.

"are you even listening?" yn asked, turning her head to look at aeri.

aeri blinked. "huh?"

yn sighed, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. "I said, practice sucked."

aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at her lips.

"here." she reached into her bag and tossed something at yn.

yn caught it, frowning. "what’s this?"

"a gift."

yn turned the small box over in her hands, raising a brow. "you’re giving me stuff now?"

"you work hard," aeri said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal.

yn opened the box, eyes widening at the necklace inside.

"aeri, this is—"

"don’t make a big deal out of it," aeri cut in quickly. "just take it."

yn hesitated. "I can’t accept this—"

"well, you’re gonna have to," aeri said, 

crossing her arms. "I’m not taking no for an answer."

yn looked at her for a long moment before sighing and slipping the necklace on. "fine. but this doesn’t mean you own me."

aeri smirked. "sure."

when the big game finally came, aeri dragged jimin and yizhuo to the front row.

she expected to be bored.

but then she saw yn in her element, completely locked in, eyes sharp, 

  moving like she was built for this.

and then she saw the coach yelling at her.

"jesus, what’s his problem?" aeri muttered.

"he’s just hard on her," jimin said, watching the game.

"yeah, well, he needs to chill."

then, it happened.

yn, her awkward, dorky, occasionally charming personal servant, got into a fight.

aeri watched, wide eyed, as yn shoved an opposing player back, jaw tight, voice sharp as she exchanged heated words.

"oh my god," aeri breathed.

"she’s hot, right?" yizhuo whispered.

"shut up," aeri snapped, crossing her arms.

yn got benched for a while, but when she was finally thrown back in, after having another yelling match with the coach she scored the winning goal.

before she knew it, aeri was heading straight for the locker room.

when she found yn, the girl was pulling a hoodie over her head, damp hair falling messily around her face.

"congrats," aeri said, leaning against the doorframe.

"thanks," yn replied, voice tired.

aeri frowned. "you don’t sound too happy."

yn exhaled. "stuff with coach got intense."

aeri raised a brow. "why do you let him get in your head?"

yn rolled her eyes. "cause he’s my dad."

aeri blinked. "oh."

"yeah."

"…if it makes you feel better, at least you and your dad have the same interests. my dad probably wouldn’t care if i ran off to join the circus."

yn huffed a laugh. "that… actually makes me more sad."

aeri grinned. "oops."

yn shook her head, but she was smiling.

"you’re going to the party, right?" aeri asked.

"yeah," yn said. "I’ll see you there."

aeri smirked. "good."

and that was the beginning of the night that would change everything.

aeri knew she had a problem when she saw a cheerleader lean closer to yn, and her first reaction was to throw back another drink.

“okay, slow down.” yizhuo raised an eyebrow as aeri downed her fourth drink in the span of ten minutes.

aeri ignored her, eyes locked on the corner of the party where yn sat, looking stupidly awkward while the cheerleader giggled and played with her hair. 

yn was slouched forward, hands clasped together like she was in a job interview, clearly uncomfortable. 

but aeri didn’t see that. no, she saw yn sitting with some girl, some random girl not even thinkingabout texting her to see if she was here.

the audacity.

“aeri?” yizhuo waved a hand in front of her face. “you’re being weird. why are you-oh my god, are you jealous?”

“me? jealous?” aeri scoffed, setting down her empty cup. “please, I’m just—”

she lost her train of thought as she watched the cheerleader lean in even closer, whispering something into yn’s ear. that was it. that was her last straw. 

she spun on her heel and made a beeline toward them, mean girl switch fully activated.

yn noticed her first. “aeri?” she blinked, eyes widening.

aeri crossed her arms. “so, you couldn’t text me to see if I was here?”

yn furrowed her brows. “what?”

the cheerleader glanced between them, clearly sensing something was up. aeri ignored her and stepped closer to yn, lips curling into a smirk. “moving on to cheerleaders now? cute. I still own you, by the way.”

yn’s entire face flashed with hurt. “are we still doing this?” her voice was quiet. “I thought we were done with that. I thought we were—” she swallowed. “I thought we were connecting.”

aeri’s stomach twisted. she hated the way yn was looking at her right now, like she was disappointed.

so, naturally, she did what she did best, shoved that feeling way down and doubled down.

she let out a sharp laugh. “connecting? why would i connect with a dumb jock who hit me in the face with a soccer ball?”

yn flinched. actually flinched. and suddenly, aeri hated herself.

but instead of fixing it, she grabbed another drink and walked away.

an hour later, she was completely shit-faced.

she was swaying, a half-empty cup in her hand, reaching for another when someone grabbed her wrist.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

aeri groaned, rolling her head back to see who was bothering her now. yn. of course it was yn.

“leave me alone,” she slurred, trying to tug her arm free.

“nope, you’re done.” yn pried the cup from her fingers and set it down.

aeri whined, pushing at yn’s chest. “you’re so annoying.” yn didn’t budge. “yeah, yeah.”

aeri pouted and stumbled, and before she knew it, she was being lifted off the ground.

“what the hell?” she yelped, gripping onto yn’s shoulders as she was thrown over her back. “I forgot you’re an athlete.”

yn adjusted her easily, carrying her like she weighed nothing. “and you’re so lanky how the hell are you doing this.”

aeri kicked her feet uselessly. “put me down, loser.”

“not a chance.”

they passed by yunjin and ryujin, who both raised their eyebrows.

yn sighed. “I’m taking her home.”

yunjin snorted. “good luck with that.”

in the car, aeri was a mess.

she was slumped in the passenger seat, mumbling nonsense, until she suddenly turned her head and stared at yn with glassy eyes.

“I hate that you’re so attractive,” she blurted out. “and dorky. and strong. and cute. and I just wanna kiss you in front of everyone.”

yn’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “you’re drunk, aeri.”

“so?” aeri pouted.

yn sighed. “just go to sleep.”

when aeri woke up in jimin’s apartment, she immediately knew two things.

one, her head was killing her.

two, she was definitely not at home.

“what the hell…” she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her temples.

“morning, sunshine.”

aeri blinked blearily, turning toward the voice. jimin was sitting at her kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee, watching her with a smirk.

“why am I here?” aeri croaked.

jimin took another sip before answering. “yn dropped you off here last night.”

aeri froze. “yn?”

“yeah.” jimin set her cup down. “said you were too drunk to go home alone. figured I’d take the babysitting shift.”

aeri groaned, flopping back onto the couch. 

“kill me.”

“not before you tell me why you were getting wasted in the first place.”

aeri shut her eyes. “no reason.”

jimin snorted. “yeah, sure. you’re you the most calculated, high maintenance, self absorbed person I know. you don’t do anything without a reason.”

aeri peeked one eye open. “was that an insult or a compliment?”

“depends. are you gonna tell me why you were drinking like a maniac last night?”

aeri hesitated.

jimin crossed her arms. “if you don’t spill, I’m kicking you out.”

aeri sighed dramatically, sitting up again.

“fine. but you cannot laugh.”

jimin smirked. “oh, I’m absolutely laughing.”

aeri ignored her and took a deep breath. “I saw  yn with some cheerleader.”

jimin raised an eyebrow. “okay… and?”

“and she was leaning in and yn was just sitting there—” aeri huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t know, I just snapped.”

jimin tilted her head. “so, you got jealous?”

aeri opened her mouth, then closed it. “no.”

jimin gave her a look.

“fine.” aeri threw her hands up. “yes.I got jealous. ridiculously jealous. stupidly jealous.”

jimin grinned. “I knew it.”

aeri groaned, flopping back onto the couch again. “I’m such an idiot. yn probably hates me now.”

jimin leaned her elbows on the counter. “what exactly did you do?”

aeri stared at the ceiling. “I walked up to them, turned on my mean girl mode, and basically told her she still belongs to me, because of the thing and like completely destroyed all the development we had.”

jimin choked on her coffee. “you what?”

“I know.” aeri covered her face. “it was bad. and then—” she cringed. “yn said she thought we were connecting and I laughed in her face.”

jimin slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “aeri.”

“I know.” aeri groaned. “I panicked.”

jimin shook her head. “oh my god, you like her.”

aeri scowled. “duh.”

“no, like, really like her.” jimin smirked. “you’re obsessed.”

aeri groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I am.”

“this is amazing.” jimin laughed.

“it’s not.” aeri pouted. “I don’t know what to do. yn probably thinks I’m an evil, heartless—”

“dumbass?” jimin offered.

aeri glared. “not what I was gonna say.”

jimin rolled her eyes. “okay, listen. I know for a fact yn doesn’t hate you.”

aeri looked skeptical. “how?”

jimin smirked. “because she dropped you off here. if she hated you, she wouldn’t have made sure you were safe.”

aeri bit her lip. “but—”

“no buts.” jimin pointed at her. “you’re going to fix this.”

“how?”

jimin grinned. “she has morning practice. I’ll drive you.”

aeri hesitated.

jimin rolled her eyes. “do not make me throw you in the car.”

twenty minutes later, aeri was storming onto the field just like first them when yn hit her right in the face.

yn was standing near the goal, foot resting on a ball, when she looked up and saw aeri marching straight toward her.

“aeri—?”

before she could finish, aeri grabbed her face and kissed her.

yn froze, completely shocked, but after a second, she melted into it, her hands gripping aeri’s waist and pulling her closer.

when they finally pulled away, aeri was breathless. “please don’t hate me, I’m sorry.” her voice was quiet now. “I’m, like, in love with you, and iI don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t say anything back to me, because I want you so bad—”

yn let out a nervous chuckle. “I can’t believe you just kissed me.” she smiled, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.”

aeri grinned, pressing another kiss to her lips

TWEEEET.

a sharp whistle cut through the air. they turned to see the entire team watching. and standing at the front, arms crossed, was coach.

yn’s dad.

“now that’s a way to meet the parents, yn get your little girlfriend off the field.”

the team howled with laughter. yn groaned, face turning a shade of red aeri had never seen before.

aeri whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before spinning on her heel and jogging back to jimin.

as soon as she reached her, they both squealed, gripping each other’s arms.

meanwhile, yn stood there, frozen, as her teammates slapped her back and teased the hell out of her.

[bunny-jpeg]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[mixingandmelting]

Hey! So kinda new here but I LOVED your take on how they would react to their s/o thinking Damian's adorable. Everytime he comes up I get in full protective older sister mode and it is so hard to find fics like that (kinda thinking about writing it myself). But I would really love to see how do you think it would be for Damian to meet his brothers' partners and actually get along with them.

All his life he's been mostly surrounded by terribly traumatized people who seem to be allergic to express their feelings (most of the times at least), it's always been hard for him to actually be a kid. So I think that maybe meeting a person he can trust, is kind of mentally stable and just fun to talk to would actually allow him to let his guard down a bit. Not saying he would act fully like a child bc you know ✨️trauma✨️ but idk I guess it would be interesting to see him feeling safe and not needing to prove himself or put on the whole "I'm not a kid" act

Anyway, english is not my first language so I do apologize if that paragraph is just a big mess and hopefully you could actually understand my rambling, sorry about that too.

A/N: treating it as a prequel to the aforementioned post here!

w/ Dick:

He heard about you. From Oracle, Steph, Tim, even Jon. Yet despite what they told him, he held no expectations for you. Just with Starfire, he saw you as temporary, a flame soon to be put out like his brother’s other exes. 

And he made sure to let you, meeting you for the first time in the Manor when the two of you coincidentally are left alone to chill in the living room on your day visiting the place. 

“I hope you realize you’re not Richard’s first nor will you be his last.” The teen states. His eyes never leave the page he’s currently on regarding the etiology of cows as he sits on the couch across from you. 

“And?” 

…And? 

He continues to insult you, questioning if you were truly unable to comprehend what he’s trying to get at only to suddenly find himself debating with you about what Batcow’s breed could possibly be. 

“You can’t rule out all dairy cattle when certain breeds are also brought to the slaughter house.” 

“That’s true but considering her size, she would be leaning towards beef cattle. Also there are certain breeds that have the red and white coat like hers.” 

How it happens, he doesn’t know. Especially when his goal was to exert his superiority, doing everything he can to get under your skin to show he’s above you. But you don’t bat an eyelash to anything he says. Rather, you’re wanting to know more about him, responding to him how you would respond to anyone else who is similar age as you. 

And it seems like he isn’t the only one to have realized how quickly he’s gotten comfortable with you once you got dragged out for a “girls talk” by the girls. Whatever that is. 

“I thought you didn’t want to get along?” Dick asks, entering the room and plopping himself right next to the youngest Bat. 

“More like your s/o is either non-human or can manipulate the mind.” Damian scowls and swats at the offending hand that attempts to ruffle his hair. 

But even without the knowing smirk the eldest shoots at him, he knows that isn’t the case. 

So when you promise you’d bake sweets whenever the two of you meet, he takes you up for it. Now he uses it to his advantage to annoy his older sibling whenever he comes over to visit, enjoying how the eldest son of the family miserably sulks for having your attention taken away from him. 

w/ Jason:

It’s either you’re a saint or lacking a brain. That’s what he assumes when the eldest of the family yells to everyone in the Batcave that their second oldest brother, the trouble-maker and black sheep of the family, had finally found himself a significant other.

He most definitely didn’t expect you to be… collected and reserved when he casually breaks into Todd’s unit to demand for assistance (it’s not him needing help), only for his eyes to meet wide and surprise yours. 

“Who are you?”

“Uh, I should be the one to say that to you.  Not the other way around buddy.”

Shots are fired, both sides fully suspicious of each other with him trying to exert dominance while you manage to counter and land hits of your own in the battle of words. And to the bitter end, he will never admit how he’s thrown off guard and has his pride extremely hurt at the very start, your eyes’ glint and your voice vocalizing recognition as whom, what Todd apparently refers to him as, “the pain in the ass” before he was able to realize you’re the s/o Richard had been talking about (the argument he gives later on after gloating to family how he was the first to actually to meet you was how he didn’t think Todd would be dating someone normal considering all his history with others and hook-ups). 

As it should be known when putting two stubborn people in the same room, it’s either go big or go home. That’s why he sits down at the table and drinks the cup of tea you place in front of him. The one that you made in the midst of the verbal argument which “only” you refuse to back down despite there already being a winner. Not because you give him snacks and you’re decent with steeping tea with loose leaf tea. 

The argument shifts to gossiping, and soon, Jason arrives while the two of you spill the tea with each other regarding the latest Batfamily’s love-drama. 

“Oh, you’re back!” 

The way Damian nearly does a double take at the sight of the man genuinely smiling with joy, captivation, and enamor though it only lasts for a second at him noticing who else was sitting at the table with you. He’s glad to say the least he’s able to find someone he could gossip about his family’s dilemma with romance while gleefully able to get at the man for all the times his buttons were pushed. 

w/ Tim:

Trust Drake to keep you hidden for this long, successfully in completely masking your presence from the whole family. He didn’t even know you existed, nonetheless Drake having a significant other in general,  leaving him to quite literally not have an opinion on you. 

The only way he finds out is the person in question kissing who he now knows is you purely by accident where the two of you were in the middle of a date and he was subbing in for patrol. He had the biggest grin when witnessing all this as he realized he just got his hand on his nemesis’ biggest weakness (he does make a face at the public display of affection though). And what better way to cement it by finding out more about you. 

As per tradition, the first thing he does is follow you to where you live. Then proceed to break in and wait for you to come home the following week. 

“You’re Drake’s significant other?” 

“What the fuc-fudge, why is there a kid in my apartment?!” 

He gets fed up and presses harder with the interrogation as you won’t stop calling him kid, kiddo, bud, and worst of all: sport. He’ll give it to you how you don’t easily bend to peer-pressure, keeping the playing field even and leveled where you ask him back questions of your own. But he doesn’t fall for your tactics to sidetrack him when offering refreshments and beverages. 

What’s your relation with Timothy Jackson Drake, how long have you known him, where did you meet him. The strange part is how you answer them truthfully. Sure you keep to the barebones, which he would ask a follow up if he deems as “important” but now he’s questioning Drake’s tastes in people, wondering if the latter is into those without awareness. 

“You do realize you’re giving out information to someone you just met, right?” He crosses his arms, an eyebrow raised. It’s not out of concern for the two of you, he’s merely mocking how weak the relationship seems to be. He tilts his head when you suddenly look sheepish, almost bashful. 

“Well…about that…” 

It’s starting then things don’t go as planned. One, you had already known about him as the “demon spawn” who had taken the position of Robin.  And two, the two of you start bonding over knowing your BF’s most humiliating moments.

It gives Damian the greatest satisfaction to see how his sibling’s facial expression falls into horror as he slams the door open only to see him in the middle of writing notes on the one story of how he attempted to skate through the rain to impress you and fail.

[waepenwifestre]

Let's Talk About Security Culture: Why Keeping Secrets is Cool and Sexy

It's a natural impulse -- if you love crime -- to want to talk about how great it is. And if you hate America, it's only natural to want to share your dreams for its future with the rest of tumblr dot com. It can feel brave and transgressive. And there is a drive to share your soul with the world at the heart of social media. Surely I should be posting the most concrete implications of my politics, right? This is the poster's curse.

Security Culture refers to a set of "best practices" developed over the past several decades, largely (in a US context) coming out of radical environmental groups as they faced intense state repression, infiltration and entrapment. If you're not familiar, there's some fascinating crimethinc write ups to give you a window into that world:

Much of it boils down to: don't talk about crimes, past or forthcoming with people who don't need to know about them, and be mindful of the possibility of surveillance and infiltration. And, we can support each other as a community in minimizing risks, with an eye towards enabling bold action rather than getting bogged down in fears and anxieties. The guidelines that make sense for AG-based trouble-makers are different from the guidelines that make sense for posters, but plenty of common principles apply. To speak briefly to our position here as posters:

First, it bears saying that long term anonymity is nearly impossible to maintain. Unless you've never accessed Tumblr without a vpn, and avoided connections with other ppl who can be associated with you/your location, and never shared pictures without scrubbing metadata, and a bunch of other 100% consistent steps, it's trivial for the state to know who you are.

Second, just because something isn't actively being prosecuted now doesn't mean it can't be prosecuted later. The priorities of the state change and a shift in power towards the right or a growth in radical action from the left can suddenly make it a priority to destroy anarchist networks or just find a few ppl to prosecute as examples (who probably weren't that plugged into larger networks before getting arrested). Advocating for specific anti-government crimes or declarations of intent to commit such crimes are likely prosecutable, and even if charges don't stick, they're an easy vector for legal harassment.

Third, it's worth thinking about heat as separate from prosecutability. There are modes of engagement that may not be directly criminalized but signal that you are someone worth watching. Some people choose to be public in ways that make heat unavoidable. But it's worth noting that heat isn't strictly individualized, that it persists over time but also is going to shrink over time.

It's easy on here, ime, to see yourself as a proud member of the crime fandom but not much of a content creator. And it's easy to feel like you've generated an amount of heat where you're locked into that role. But heat you generated 10 years ago is probably pretty well gone. Heat you generated 5 years ago has faded substantially. It's worth thinking about how the world might shift in the coming years and what doors you want to keep open.

The non-individualized nature of heat also means that leaning into the spiciest of anti-state positions will make it a bad idea for people who are acting out those positions end up tied to you. Loudly talking about how "more people should be doing [X/Y/Z]" unfortunately sets you up to remain distant from people who might be doing or thinking about doing such things.

Which brings me back to: keeping secrets is sexy. Not spelling everything out builds intrigue. You can lay out a theoretical position and leave working out the practical implications of that as an exercise for the reader. There's value in opacity. The poster's curse and the drive to confess are extremely convenient for the state, but we can resist them. We can hold dreams in our hearts that we refuse to offer up to the posting spectacle.

[mikkeneko]

So here's my beef with ChatGPT. Even aside from the issues with plagiarism, cheating, people using it to fake the work that they absolutely need to be actually doing, &etc.

With the advent of the internet we've been in a situation where all the knowledge available to humanity could, conceivably, be made available to everyone at all times. We've had enormous public works built towards that purpose -- libraries, Wikipedia, archives, everything. But an increasing problem as the years have gone by has been the problem of sorting out the signal from the noise. Sorting out real, helpful advice from scams and snake-oil. Paths that lead to dead-ends as sources of information go down and don't come back up. Trying to figure out who's a real expert, who's even a real person in a sea of fake generated avatars. Distinguishing wheat from chaff, usable material from trash.

And the makers of ChatGPT -- and every other AI programmer who's now trying to jump on the bandwagon -- is looking at this problem and saying "You know what this situation needs? More noise. More fakes. More chaff. More dead-ends and empty shells. I think we have TOO MUCH useful information and real expertise. I think we should shake things up by adding more utterly contentless garbage to the mix." And they created an automated noise generator.

Just imagine being on the bank of a pond and saying "ah, this is a lovely pond, the fish and plants are so beautiful, I'm just having trouble seeing them through the silt in the water" and the person next to you says "I'm going to build a factory on the bank of this pond that does nothing but pour more dirt into it. All day. Every day. Nonstop." And then everyone else overhears them and says "Oh, what a fantastic idea! I'm going to create my OWN sludge-factory to get in on this action!"

[cxffecoupx]

cheol as a boy dad

boy dad! seungcheol fluff, requested warnings: reader has a womb, cheol being down bad for his baby boy word count: 705 author's notes: requested by anon (thank you so much!!) I hope you like it. i never really thought about boy dad cause cheol's definitely a girl dad for me but I loved writing this so much! Lemme know what you think :) check out 'cheol as a girl dad' here.

boy dad! cheol who starts crying in the hospital seeing a junior version of him. his big boba eyes are yours, no doubt, but the little pout that finds home on his baby's lips are unmistakably his — even he can't deny it. his eyes start watering when his baby boy holds his index finger with his whole palm.

boy dad! cheol who litters gentle kisses on your sweaty face, murmuring the sweetest of praises on how you did so well and how your baby is a sweet healthy boy who looks like the best of them both. your tears melt into his as you both happily sob over this moment of joy.

boy dad! cheol who you always find around your baby, smiling and cooing at him, playing with him and his toys and always bringing a wide grin to your baby's face. the child's laughter fills your little home and you can't help but sigh in content.

boy dad! cheol who always traces the baby's features delicately: the eyes that reflect the same shine that yours hold, the lips that pout the same way he does, the little button nose and the cheeks that seungcheol withholds the urge to bite because they're so chubby and so.... biteable (the cuteness aggression is so real right now!!)

boy dad! cheol who loves to dress your child in matching clothes as his. you search for seungcheol as you browse through the women's section, only to find him approaching you with two same shirts in different sizes. everytime you all go out you stand out because you're walking around with two same people, just different fonts.

boy dad! cheol who wraps his hands around your waist and kisses your neck, surprising you as you make dinner. who always takes time to appreciate you about all the struggles you had to deal with during the pregnancy, and how you've made him more happy than any man in this world.

you turn around and start kissing him, but just as things were about to dive deeper, your little trouble-maker stumbles up to you both and starts tugging on your pants. seungcheol grabs the child and tucking him in between you both, gives you and your child a bone-crushing hug that ends up making your son giggle endlessly. cheol gently whispers how he's holding his world in his arms right now, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

boy dad! cheol who pouts and whines everytime your son ignores him and runs to you. you don't realise how, but your son takes more liking to you, running to you first whenever you return home from somewhere, or whenever he needs something. although seungcheol loves to see it, he lowkey hates how he's just left there, hands outstretched for a hug hanging in the air. he dramatically falls to the floor, kicking his feet and whining which makes your son run from your arms to fall onto his dad's chest, giggling with how cheol tickles him.

boy dad! cheol who gets so excited to take your son to the first day of his school. although having to leave him makes his sad, he's excited for his son's new step in his life and will be all ears to hear him talk all about whatever happened at school. he sneakily gives his son a sweet treat without you knowing (it's their little secret now) as he tells everything he learnt in class that day.

boy dad! cheol who always teaches his son to respect everyone he meets in his life. he hopes that his son learns from watching the way he treats you, his wife, with all the love and respect he could give. he hopes that one day, when his son grows up, he treats his wife the same way seungcheol treats you now.

boy dad! cheol who, even though secretly wished for a baby girl, becomes extremely elated with his precious little baby boy, in whom he sees both you and him. hes feels like the luckiest man on earth — with a wife he loves with every inch of him and a lovely son who he wants to keep happy for the rest of his life. his little, happy family.

[elizzsush]

Future Child | Twisted Wonderland

Malleus Draconia X Reader

----It wasn’t everyday you’d find a three year old running around campus causing a ruckus. Usually students wouldn’t have to deal with this, but with Crowley you had to deal with everything. Now… why is it when you catch this small trouble maker it calls you “momma”?

AUs: None Rating: SFW

Note: Hi, hi! So, basically, I wasn't going to finish this and posted it as a WIP and people really liked it. So, then I had no other choice but to finish it! And I hope you like it.

____________________________________

Crowley in-listed you to help with the child problem around school. No, wait that sounded bad. A young fae no older than five got into night raven campus and has been running amok. Some students say he appeared out of thin air. So, obviously, you: the defenseless, Magic-less human with no knowledge of fae or even how some of these basics of this world work, you were the schools best bet against this ‘threat.’ And so, your oh so kind instructor pushed this task onto you and left.

Not without you demanding an extra allowance, but still.

Thankfully, you were well equipped with a grumpy cat-weasel thing who is so glad to help and definitely did not try and run away. “Ehh? Why do I have to help ya??” Grim whined as he hung limply, your hand firmly grasping his scruff as you held him up. He was so generous and did not need to be bribed at all.

You sighed, “I’ll put some money aside from this to get you tuna.” Technically, that was a lie. No, you were going to fix the window Grim broke from practicing his magic in the house, again.

“I want two cans!” The motivated cat purred and jumped onto your shoulders. Now, you can finally begin your mission and take on this… threat...?

This threat was a real threat!

The sight of the frozen cafeteria did scare you. You had learnt that after you had stumbled upon the frozen dinning hall; all of this was from the baby fae! What on Earth were you suppose to even do once you caught the child?

How would you catch this kid without being frozen exactly? Why were you put on this task?

There was a mountain of ice and a many frozen students who were actively being saved by other students most of whom were made to help. They had gotten lucky in your option. They didn’t have to find the kid. “So much magic…" An awestruck student said, "it’s hard to believe a kid did this.” The nameless person mumbled as they helped thaw the room out. You couldn’t help but hum in agreement to yourself.

What kid could do this when Deuce struggled with making anything but cauldrons while he was somewhere new! It was… overwhelming magic for sure. Even for you to stand in the middle of it, magicless. And this was just the dining hall!

Apparently, you had three more places to check out.

“Not much to see here.” Grim grumbled from your shoulder, just then a ball of fire came hurtling towards the two of you! “Eek!!” Grim squealed jumping of your shoulder while you ducked.

“Sorry!” A no name student called out… He had been using the fire to dethaw some students.

“We should leave… and fast.” You said as you turned to leave in a hurry. You tripped on the ice almost tripped on the ice while you left.

.

.

.

The very next place you checked was the courtyard, where Mr. Vargas liked to make you run in the blistering heat. PE was horrible. Everyone else got to be on their dumb magic brooms while you were stuck doing laps.

Mr. Vargas did like to make the boys sweat afterwards though. You got to sit on the grass and laugh at them cheer them on! Especially Ace, who always lagged behind.

Anyway, in the place of the field of green grass that your peers used to practice flying on a broom, was a field of fire. Green fire no less. At least it was still green? You stayed a distance away while you watched a group of five students try and summon water magic to help fight these flames. “If you don’t do this right, it’ll be off with your heads!” Next to them, a familiar short, red-haired boy was shouting at them and telling them what they were doing wrong.

You liked to think it wouldn't actually be off with their heads, Riddle was above that... Now. You liked to think it was just motivation to make them work harder!

Because it was mostly Heartslabyul students, it worked. "Hey! Riddle?" You called out to the boy. The Housewarden looked at you and jogged up to meet you a way away from the green flames. Was Sebek here as well? You swore you heard his voice shouting...

"You shouldn't be here. This area is off-limits to anyone outside of the Equestrian club because of the danger." Riddle crossed his arms; his tone was pretty gentle though. You nodded along to what he was saying, because it made sense.

"Crowley wants us to find the Fae doing this, do you know anything about it?" You decided to get right to the point. Riddle was busy enough as it was. He seemed to appreciate it too.

The boy glanced back at the students trying to figure out how to calm the fire and shook his head. "I think I heard a few third years mention a blur of H/C going into the school." He mentioned, you mostly knew the kid was in the school. It was one of the places Crowley wanted you to check out, Mr. Trein's class, after that you didn't really know where the kid could be.

You smiled and thanked Riddle before turning to leave, the boy glanced back at the fire before stepping a bit closer to you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "Uh- Y/N, I was wondering if you wanted to have tea with me later I-"

"Dorm leader! it's spreading!" A student shouted out, a panicked look on their face as they rushed up to the two of you. Riddle muttered something under his breath, before jogging back to the fire. To step up to calm the flames even more than what the regular student could do so you left.

“This seemed handled enough…” You muttered, a bit disappointed that you didn't get to finish your conversation with Riddle, Grim simply rolled his eyes and you two turned to leave.

.

.

.

You went to Mr. Trein’s classroom next. Your most boring class of twisted wonderland, history, uh... you think. Truthfully you hadn’t stayed awake long enough to know what class he taught.

It was not for lack of trying either!

He just drew out his words and spoke in just a boring robotic tone, it could put anyone to sleep! I digress. The cat: Lucius liked you too, he tended to let you sleep more while waking up other students.

Anyway, in place of the classroom was… an overgrown forest? In the center of it, you noticed a tall, well groomed, teal haired male, squatting down to examine what appeared to be a mushroom….

Obviously. it was Jade. He was part of the Mountain Lovers Club. The sole member actually if you remember right. Crowley mentioned something about the clubs handling the situations. So...

This seemed… handled-ish….

You would be taking your leave now. You closed the door silently and Grim groaned. "This is so boring." He whined, "Why do we have to do this?!" You shrugged slightly.

"Crowley said he'll give an extra allowance this week if we do this." You mumbled, "We could really use it to fix that window you broke." You reminded the cat. He huffed and glared at you a bit childishly, crossing his furry arms silently on your shoulder.

"I thought you said I could have extra tuna?" He realized, jumping off your shoulder he pointed at you in an accusatory manner; you sighed a bit.

You didn’t have time to find him right now. "We can talk about this later." You walked past him but when he didn't follow you, you turned around.

Where did Grim go...? You looked around the halls for him, "Grim?!" Didn’t he know not to wonder off while there was a threat on campus!

Where did Grim go...? You looked around the halls for him, "Grim?!" Didn’t he know not to wonder off while there was a threat on campus!

This fae would eat him alive!

Feeling even more motivated and slightly panicked, you ran off to find the cat and disregard the threat that was getting killed by meeting this Fae kid unarmed. Uncated? Either way.

.

.

.

.

“Someone help me!” You finally heard Grims's voice after looking for him for... quite a while actually. Pushing the door to the classroom open, you found...

Nothing.

Every potion was on its self, the stirring sticks where the usually go, nothing burned, frozen, or overgrown nothing was… well anywhere. At least anywhere out of place. “Someone, help me!” A cried out a very familiar voice squeaked out. Hesitantly, you walked closer to where you heard Grim’s voice.

This felt like something out of a horror movie.

A cauldron, inside of it was the soft glow of blue flames. No doubt caused by Grins fire ears. “Grim…?” You spoke softly. Peeking inside the steel pot, you saw a young boy, a long tail curled up beside him and one horn on the side of his head. In his arms was Grim, held tightly like he was a stuffed animal. He sniffled and then looked up at you with the most striking green eyes you’ve ever seen…

“Y/n!” Grim cried out, relief flooding his voice and breaking you from the little boy's curse of cuteness.

You plucked Grim from the kid's arms and He crawled onto your shoulders.

“Momma!” The boy, still in the cauldron yelled out, stumbling to get up and jump into your arms, get hindered by the caldron he found himself stuck in. His face was red from tears, and he looked scared… his small hands shaking with fear. He sniffled more, his chubby hands rubbing away his tears as they fell. Your heart ached slightly seeing those tears.

This can't be the same boy running amok in the school's campus. He was just so... non-threatening?

So, without a second thought. You picked the small boy up and cooed at him. Grim stared at you bewildered, His experience far more intimidating them yours.

Didn't you know how tight that boy was holding him?! Poor Grim almost didn't make it. He whined and frowned at the attention you were giving the boy.

Now, you just had to take this sweetheart to Crowley.

Either way, the small boy was absolutely adorable! Sure, he may or may not have caused this week's class cancelations but really, Ace was thanking the boy for it, so all was fine! Back at ramshackle, you realized, he was just a kid.

He was using some crayons to draw. He screamed like a bit of a brat when you tried to make him eat some broccoli you got... You thought it would be good for you and grim and neither of you ate it.

His big electric green eyes that reminded you of… someone? But who was it again? Well, it didn’t matter. The boy had green eyes, H/ced hair and these two small slightly curled horns on top of his head.

His ears were pointed just like a fae’s but just slightly? They weren’t as long nor as sharp as a regular fae’s like Lilia. It was hard to explain. It was the oddest thing- he had a tail as well! A long blackish purple one at that. And he was excellent at magic, if the destroyed campus told you anything. “Are you mad at me?” He looked up at you with teary eyes after you informed Crowley you caught him.

“Why would I be mad at you?” You asked the small boy curiously, blinking at him a bit confused at the question. His large electric green puppy eyes weren’t exactly helping you stand strong and not coddle him either.

“Because I made the rooms a mess…” he rubbed his large cheeks free from stray tears. Not that he was any good at it either, you just shook your head and kneeled to the floor, wiping them away for him.

Something about this boy made you wanted to care for him and protect him- he was just do cute. “Nonsense, you were scared. A little mess is fine as long as you weren’t hurt.” When you looked at him you felt something akin to cuteness aggression. This little fae was adorable! If Crowley didn’t find his parents, you’d take him in!

Ignore how poorly you yourself lived in ramshackle! And how much of your food was canned tuna because Grim insisted on it over actual food.

And the window that you still needed to fix and were most likely going to spend this week's allowance on...

The boy nodded, cuddling into your side like a small cuddly cat.

__________________________

He was adorable but children were a handful.

Crowley, after assigning you to catch the kid, gave you the poor child to take care of. So, you had been living with the child for three whole days.

Not to say the kid- who’s name you learned was Casper- was a handful. In fact, he was a sweetheart. He tended to shy away from things a bit, and he was a bundle of nerves sometimes.

He definitely got overwhelmed when left by himself, often resorting to crying and when he cried his magic tended to...

Anyway, Despite the amount of magic he held at his fingertip, he’d rush to you at the slightest creak of the floorboards, held onto you tightly, and hide his face in your shirt.

When it was finally time to go to school you didn’t really know what to do with the kid…? We’re you suppose to just… bring a kid to class with you? I mean, you already bring a cat, and the kid would probably be more well behaved then Grim.

So you brought Casper with you. And it was fine He was very sweet, maybe a little to shy, the teachers did love him. He introduced himself to them from behind your leg.

That was two days ago, now you were in the cafeteria. You hadn't been here in two days because, well you weren't sure if Casper would be okay around the crowd of students. Some of whom were still bitter about the Ice things... and the green fire thing.

“Fufufu, what do we have here?” Lilia popped up out of absolutely nowhere. "I heard a rumor about a trouble make~" He smirked.

“Grandpa Lilia!” The kid for once didn’t shy away. You had expected him to start crying. (He had before after all, when Jade introduced himself to the boy.) Lilia simply smiled and accepted the boy's affections, nodding along as he babbled about his day. Meanwhile, you were staring bewildered at the boy.

And... That was your lunch.

With of course, Ace and Deuce coming to keep you company while Lilia entertained Casper.

Most of your lunch you'd glance at the two. 'Grandpa Lilia?' You wondered why he was unusually not shy? He was a talkative boy to you, but with a stranger, no way... “Where Papa?” He asked looking up at the older fae with his large sparkling eyes. Oh, maybe Lilia knew the boy's parents! He was an older fae himself, right?

“Yes, good question indeed where is your papa?” Lilia asked, before he looked at you, a small smirk on his face, he looked at you like you’d know! You didn’t. You had tried to correct the kid on you being his mom before two- he cried and sulked over it for a while after that. “Well, I best be Off now!” Lilia cheered and gave you the kid back before disappearing off somewhere.

That was weird right?

You day went on- Ace and Deuce were good around the kid. Casper was pretty decent around Ace and Deuce, not too shy but he wasn't rambling like he was around Lilia. "Is something on your mind?" Deuce asked curiously, a mild layer of unwarranted concern.

"It's fine..." You shrugged, "I just hope Crowley find Caspers parents soon." You sighed, and the boy in question looked at you confused. He called you Mom and you basically took care of him, so you figured he thought you were his mom.

Not that you really minded, it wasn't like he thought you were old, fae tended to not age and stay good looking forever basically. Case in point, Lilia.

You really didn't mind, you already took care of Grim, so what's another, milder tempered Grim who didn't run away? "Speaking of the kid- Where is he?" Ace asked, looking around.

Scratch that, the kid wondered off.

"Oh no." You sighed and looked at the Adeuce duo with an exhausted look they couldn't say no too. They'd help you find the kid.

__________________________

How on earth did Sebek of all people get Casper?

Sebek, a first year in your class. Some loud guy who you got partnered up with once.

Why didn't Casper run away! You most certainly would and have. Instead, you found Casper on Sebek Zigvolt of all people's shoulders. Now you and Ace were whispering about how to get the kid back. No way you were going to go up to Sebek of all people and have to listen to his "fae are superior" speech... again.

"We should... Lure Casper away with candy." You whispered, Ace gave you a look and shot down your idea.

"Do you want to give him the impression that you should follow random people with candy?" He said looking at you like you just had the worst idea ever. "I say we just grab him and run."

"No, Sebek is faster than us." You noted, "Especially you, he runs laps past you in PE." Ace bumped your shoulder with an eyeroll.

"Where's Deuce?" Ace frowned, you watched with wide eyes as you saw Deuce confidently walk up to Sebek... "oh no." Ace groaned and run up behind Deuce.

You cursed to yourself. "We don't have to follow right...?" you asked the cat who agreed with you, but you knew you kind of had to follow them.

"Hey- Sebek." You smiled awkwardly.

"Mama!" The kid called out to you and reached out towards you. he almost fell off Sebek's shoulders- thankfully you caught him. Sebek looked at you in confusion and maybe a bit judgmentally...?

"No- he isn't..." You sighed and gave up.

"A human couldn't mother a Fae of Caspers caliber!" And so... Sebek began his rant. He started with how Lilia informed him of the situation, and he was here to lift the burden of Casper from your human shoulders.

Really, it saved you the time of informing Sebek you were in fact, not a teen mom. Also, it was weirdly insulting? Like hey, come on, you’ve taken care of him for three days! Almost four, “Casper is pretty happy with me, right sweetie?” You asked the boy who nodded hesitatingly. Wait- hesitantly? “Huh?”

Sebek looked a bit disheartened the Fae kid rejected him, but he was also kind of confused as well. “It’s just… I miss Papa, Mama…” the boys lips quivered a bit.

“No, no! You're not in trouble.” You fell to your knees to comfort the boy.

Apparently Sebek was hanging out with the child because he thought he was Malleus but something went wrong. Perhaps someone used their unique magic in the future ruler of briar valley.

Um… who’s Malleus?

________________

Day four of having a child.

Today you were going to find this kid someone who looked close enough to his dad. I mean, you apparently looked like his mom enough, so… yeah!

Also, perhaps his brother went to this school and that was how he ended up here. Finding him a dad sounded fun though.

It was a solid plan… “Casper?” You woke the boy up. You put Casper in the guest bedroom ace usually occupied when he was collared. Which was often. Even with Riddle being looser on the rules Ace always pushed sadly. “Today we’re finding your father.” You informed the boy.

“Really!” His eyes lit up. Why didn’t you do this sooner?

“Mhm, just tell me what he looks like-“ and so began Caspers rant on how amazing his father was. How he always makes time for you two even though he’s so busy, how good he was at playing superhero’s- and so on.

You didn’t even realize superhero’s existed here. Crazy. “He has black horns like me!” He grinned up at you, “oh- and black hair and we have the same eyes!” He giggled before again going on about how awesome his dad was.

“Horns, black hair, green eyes…” you mumbled, “and you're a fae, so we should probably go to Diasomnia, they have the most fae of the dorms” you smiled brightly. “This Malleus guy seems promising- and if he doesn’t want to, I’ll just make him!” You cheered and with Casper on your shoulders you were out the door!

.

.

.

Was it just you or was Diasomnia slightly terrifying?

 Either way, with Casper on your shoulders like you were going to the zoo, you walked on the winding path with thorns around it and into the dorm. The halls were… very long and castle-like. 

Eventually you found the dorm's common room. Witch had three students, only one of which was a fae. With as much confidence you could muster, you approached them. “Hello! Good evening gentlemen… Um, do you happen to know someone whom this child looks like?” You smiled and proceeded to the kid. 

They very politely actually said that they think he looks like Malleus. You asked them to point you to this Malleus, and they again very politely refused. Apparently he was a busy man which was fair. But he was a father now! If casper deems him fit enough (By that you mean mistake him for his father like the boy did you.)

Still, throughout this process, you couldn't help but wonder if you were forgetting someone. 

You kept glancing at Caspers horns… who else did you know with horns? “Tsunotarou! That's who you look like!” You finally realized after an embarrassingly long time. In your defense you had only met the guy once or twice while you were dealing with Leona’s stupid plan, and didn’t Leona mention Malleus during his overblot?

“That's what you call Papa!” Casper cheered, his eyes widening in awe. Okay so, either that was a common name… which you doubt or Casper had a weird background. 

“Khee Khee what do we have here?” Lilia appeared out of nowhere! …again, still you jumped! 

“Mama is going to find Papa today!” Casper cheered in all his three year old glory. Picking the boy up and lifting him to sit on your hit you nodded. 

“Mhm! I’m going to meet this… Malleus demands he becomes Caspers father or pay child support!” You claim confidently because in reality, you were beginning to doubt the plan you came up with at 3am and woke up early for. “Tsunotarou would be a better bet but I really don’t know where that guy is… or his real name.” you muttered to yourself. 

Either way, Lilia clapped and with a large smile said this: “You're in luck! Malleus just finished his breakfast and should be heading over for his morning coffee.” So, without verbally questioning why he knew that you smiled and plopped down on the common room’s chairs watching a bit nervously as Lilia wandered off again. 

So… You were really dumb. Realistically this was a horrible plan bound to fail, but you already came this far. 

Didn’t all your friends always comment about how scary Malleus was? Wasn’t he like one of the top mages of this world? 

Okay, maybe if you didn’t come up with this plan at 3am last night you wouldn’t be so royally screwed! Hah, get it because Malleus is supposed to be some royal of… a whole nation right? Yeah, this was a bad idea. 

Getting up to leave, you heard Casper cheer for his father.

“Child Of Man?” 

“Tsunotarou?” You turned around, “Actually- no this is better than getting smited by some scary mage! Okay so I have been looking for… you, for a while!” You smiled, “This is our son: casper.” You introduced them. 

“Papa!” 

__________________

“Mm, He does look like me.” Tsunotarou hummed; he knelt beside the child, titling his head curiously as he observed the child. “Your horns are coming in nicely aren't they?” He commented with a small smile, the boy nodded enthusiastically. 

“Mhm! They should be as big as yours soon!” Casper giggled. 

“Your speech is also advanced for a child of your age.” The older boy smiled, It was a very touching sight actually. 

“It is. Ace and Deuce have been helping me teach him some bigger stuff too.” you stated proudly as the younger boy nodded along. You sat beside where the boy stood in front of his new father. Your back against the armrest, you sat planted on the floor. “The headmage said he would be dealing with getting him back home but I have to take care of him till then.” You sighed. 

“I see, so you thought to find me as I am the child's father?” Malleus asked curiously, an eyebrow raised almost teasingly.

“If you’ll believe it, yup.” You nodded along, I mean if he believes that the kid is his, why not get him to take responsibility for that sweet child support money?

“I see, so Crowley is making the proper arrangement to get you back to us in the future.” 

“Wait, so he's actually my kid?” you couldn’t help but blurt out. Tsunotarou merely chuckles. “Am I dumb or are we actually like his parents?” You whispered a bit to Tsunotarou and stood up, he followed after you standing up as well. 

“Mm? Crowely didn’t inform you?” he said with an amused and sly smile. “I suppose it's time anyway we get properly introduced seeing as you are my future spouse” He smirked, his hand on his hips.

“I am Malleus draconia”

__________________________

Fun Fact:

The events of this takes place after Heartslabyul’s and Savanaclaw overblot. So y/n doesn’t know Tsunotarou is Malleus.

Also, Lilia knew all along.

Also, also, I'm sorry this sucked lol

NOTE: Sorry this slightly sucked I didn't really plan to actually finish the WIP I posted it as "Forever unfinished" and people liked it so I thought I'd do this anyway!

________________________ ________________________

Some of Ya'll wanted to be Tagged: @yu-night-raven @kelsyntam @reivelmin @thisisafish123 @cheshire-kitsune @dmiqueles @ranbutler-epicsans-moon @dontmindmelove @swivi @halseyhatter @barbatoss-bitch @itslucieen @bell7duck @whatever-fanfics @ziankenvirus @blcknebula @leilakaro @sarraisme

(I'm not quite sure if I did it right but thank you for liking the WIP enough to comment and want to see another! I hope it was good, I kind of think It wasn't that good but Thats why I made it somewhat long... To compensate!)

[simplyholl]

Frozen Stiff

Summary: Captured by the Frost Giants, your time on Jotunheim gets interesting.

Pairing: Jotun Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Loss of virginity. Size kink. Somnophilia.

See my Masterlist here

You really did it this time. Your father instructed everyone stay in their homes this night. Loki, king of the Frost Giants had warned your father, King Erik, king of the elves that he would be coming through Alfheim. If anyone was caught outside, they would be considered an enemy, and taken prisoner.

Your father’s royal decree had went in one ear and out the other. You were considered a trouble maker. Not because of anything you had done consciously. Trouble seemed to follow wherever you went. You were so unlike your sister, the future queen of Alfheim, and no one let you forget that.

She was tucked away safely in her chambers with the door locked. Here you were, hiding in the bushes outside the palace. You wanted to get a good look at the Frost Giants. You had never seen one in person, and you didn’t think the view from your chambers would do them any justice.

Loud footsteps echoed throughout the forest as they stomped through. The trees were shaking with each step they took, the force of their large bodies leaving holes in the ground where they walked. They were approaching quickly. You really should run back in the palace, but you were frozen. The first few Jotuns walk by and you’re stunned.

They are even bigger than you imagined. Then you see him, King Loki. He struts through and a wild thought comes to you. He’s beautiful. You had always been taught that the Frost Giants were ugly beasts that would take misbehaving children in the night. They seemed nice enough. King Loki had even given your father warning before passing through. He and the last three giants walk passed you and you count the seconds before you can run back inside.

Woof

You look beside you terrified. Your sister’s dog, Arnie, pants beside you, tail wagging.

Woof

He barks again. You grab him, trying your best to shush him. But it’s too late. He’s gained their attention. They turn back around, looking toward the bushes you are hiding in. You sink lower to the ground, trying to shove your body under the bush. You close your eyes, hoping if you can’t see them, they can’t see you.

But their footsteps shake the ground as they come closer. “What have we here?” One of them growls, picking you up with one hand. “We found a spy, your highness.”

“Bring him to me.” King Loki demands. You squeak as you are dropped from one huge hand into another. You shiver, the temperature of his skin is colder than you could have imagined. “Not a he, but a she.” He says amused, as he looks closely at you.

“What are you doing out here, little mouse? I warned your king that we would take anyone we found outside prisoner.” You swallow, trying to seem braver than you felt. “My father, King Erik, he did command the whole village to stay inside, your highness. I was simply curious and I wanted to see you for myself.”

Loki looks at you in the palm of his hand, amusement dancing on his features. “Your father, the king? So that makes you a princess? Are you the heir to the throne?” You shake your head. “No, your highness, that would be my sister.” You introduce yourself hoping it will get you out of this situation.

“A princess for a prisoner. What an interesting day it’s turning out to be.” He sneers. “No, wait!” You protest. He closes his hand around you, silencing you. When you arrive in Jotunheim, you are brought to a room with a giant bed, huge fluffy pillows, and a roaring fireplace. King Loki places you on the bed.

“This isn’t normally how I treat my prisoners, but you are still a princess. As long as you obey me, you may stay in this room and avoid the dungeon. You are free to walk around, and I will let everyone know that no harm is to come to you. Am I understood?”

“Yyyyesss” You stutter, you had been freezing the entire trip. You run to the fireplace, rubbing your hands together in an effort to get warm. Loki studies you, his red eyes lingering on your sheer nightgown. You really didn’t plan on getting captured when you went out, so you didn’t bother with putting on a proper dress.

You regret that decision now as his gaze lands on your breasts, heaving on your shaking form. He could see everything through the nightgown, and he was already looking, so you didn’t bother with attempting to cover yourself. “I’ll have someone make you proper clothing. In the meantime, there are extra blankets in the closet.” He walks out, leaving you with your thoughts.

Months had passed and you were settling into your new home. No one treated you like a prisoner, and you decided for once in your life to stay out of trouble. You had been given a job in the palace kitchen and you were making new friends. You were actually starting to like it here.

You giggle as your closest friend Marta, asks about your sex life. As a princess, you had to save yourself for whoever your father chose for you. You knew very little about the act itself. But Marta filled you in. She answered every question you had without judging you, and she even gave you some tips. The most shocking part was learning that a male might want to kiss you between your thighs. Marta told you there was nothing like it, so you couldn’t help fantasizing about it the rest of the day. When you laid your head down to rest, your tried to think of more questions for Marta.

The door to your room squeaked open. King Loki walked in, shutting it behind him. He gently removed the blankets from your sleeping form. You were wearing the nightgown from the first night you met him. He reaches out, his long finger grazing your nipple. The chill from his skin causing it to harden under his touch. You sigh from his attention, but don’t wake up. He carefully spreads your legs, laying down between them. His cold tongue meets your center, and you buck your hips toward him. He takes this as an invitation, long tongue lapping between your thighs.

You jump up, searching your room for him, but he’s not there. It was all a dream. You confide in Marta about it and she says it must be your conversation. It made its way into your subconscious. But you didn’t talk to Marta about it the next night when you had it or the next night. Weeks had passed and still, you had the same dream every night. It made it awkward for you when you had to serve King Loki his meals.

“King Loki has requested you serve his dessert in his chambers.” Marta told you, handing you the tray piled high with pastries, cakes, and fruit. You knock on his door, waiting for his instruction to enter. When he calls for you to come in, you bow to him. “My king, I’ve brought your dessert.” He’s propped up on his bed, gesturing for you to place it on a table by the window.

He’s so big, he nearly takes up all the room on the large bed. His muscled blue form has been the object of your fantasies for a while now. “Remove your dress, and get on the bed.” He demands. You drop the metal tray on the table. “Excuse me, your highness. I must have misheard you.”

He pats the bed, “You heard correctly, little mouse. I know you desire me. You dream of me every night. I’m only rewarding your good behavior.” You fight the urge to pinch yourself. You must be dreaming. “How did you know about that?” You manage to mumble. “I know all, little one. You can hide nothing from me.”

He beckons you with his thick finger. You do as he instructed, removing your dress and getting on the bed with him. He lifts you with one hand, hovering you above his face. “Wha- what are you doing?” You stammer. “I’m having my dessert.” He quips placing you on his mouth. His long, cold tongue covers your center. You shiver from the chill. His velvety muscle curls beneath your clit, flicking it.

He treats you like a porcelain doll, holding you as if you might break. He could easily crush you without trying. You really were like his own personal doll. He enters your untouched flesh with his tongue, rocking you back and forth on it. Your small hands wrap around his fingers, trying to ground yourself. He drinks you like it’s water, the icy muscle tipping you over the edge, making your toes curl.

He suddenly tosses you on your back, his bulky form trapping you beneath him. He settles between your thighs. They start aching as he spreads them as wide as he can. It’s still not wide enough to accommodate him. So he pushes your knees to your chest, his gigantic cock nudging your center.

The thought of ruining such a small, delicate woman driving him mad with lust. “I’ll split you in half, little mouse. You would like that wouldn’t you?” Your still dazed from your orgasm, so you only hum in response. “My sweet princess is cock drunk and she hasn’t had any cock yet.” You nod, reaching for him. “I am the first to touch you, correct?” Another hum to confirm.

You gasp when he dips a large finger inside you, curling it upwards. “I have to get you ready.” He explains. As he works his skilled finger inside you, you rock your hips, hungry for more. You whine as he removes his digit from you, but you’re not left wanting for long. He thrusts into you, and you scream. He stretches you, and you try to adjust to his size. You feel him bottom out and you wiggle to get more comfortable.

Tears fall down your cheeks, the stinging not subsiding. “My poor princess. I’m too much for her. It’s only the tip, my sweet girl.” He gently traces the outline of his cock bulging in your stomach. Loki presses on it. “I can see myself protruding out of your stomach, little one. Do you know how feral that makes me? Such a small creature struggling to take the head of my cock.”

He tilts his hips, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. Goosebumps line your arms when you feel his breath on your ear. “You’re doing so good for me, my little princess. You feel incredible. I’ll keep you forever, my little plaything.” You whimper at his words, a gush of arousal soaking him. He moans, looking at your fucked out expression. He wraps his enormous hand around your waist, thrusting you down on him, faster.

Loki roars as he releases inside you. He pulls out, spreading your now limp legs. “I want to see me dripping out of you.” He lowers his head, black tresses covering your stomach as his icy tongue laps at you once more. “What a delicious mess you made.” He coos.

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @xorpsbane @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @itsybitchylittlewitchy @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess