#i'm just... adding as many tags as i can so i find this when i need it

[beastsovrevelation]

I had another Good Omens fanfiction dream this morning.

Basically, Crowley was due to give birth. You might ask, Pestilence, what's with you and Crowley being pregnant?.. The answer is, I don't know, and neither does my therapist.

So, Crowley's due to give birth, he's scared and in pain. Beelzebub shows up, along with a few other demons (I guess I'll look through the Key of Solomon, I remember a few have to do with healing). She told him they'll support him. I have a feeling, the dream adhered to my idea that Crowley and Beelzebub are siblings (in spite Beelzebub looking like she does in S2, so Indian).

Crowley had to change to his snake form, because while his human form was male (so he couldn't give birth without surgery, which was too dangerous), his snake form was female. The demons put him in a whelping box (genius idea). Crowley gave birth to either 4 or 6 baby snakes (apparently, they're called snakelets). It was a live birth, which, fun fact, some snakes do give (i think boa constrictors, and snake Crowley kind of looks like one, aside from the colouring). The baby snakes then morphed to human form. I don't think Crowley nearly died, but he lost a lot of blood, and got extremely exhausted. No, it probably wasn't realistic to how snakes actually give birth.

(They were far larger, though)

Oh, and at some point, Aziraphale found out, but someone (possibly Beelzebub) forbade him from coming, because an angel's presence would distress the babies, and they wouldn't take human form. They could also die.

No, I don't think Aziraphale was the "father". The babies were demons, while, according to my headcanons, when an angel procreates with a demon, the baby's an angel, as it's the original form (though, they do retain some demonic features). Maybe, Crowley mated with an actual snake, or something... It would be very Greek and Norse god of him, but what the Heaven, dude... I guess, Beelzebub could act as the litter's she-father, once the two had reconciled. Which, is a word I use for maternal figures who, traditionally, would be considered more paternal. You know, kind of emotionally detached, more provider than carer, often absent, that sort of deal.

This is incoherent, but I only remember fragments. I guess, I will put it down in my notes for the future. I already did. (I'm kind of tempted to write the birth scene, I like writing birth scenes, they're brutal).

Don't you just have a love/hate relationship with when you are already swamped with WIPs, but the Fanfiction Gods send you another vision?..

Also, don't you just hate it when you give birth to a litter of snakelets, with the help of your coworkers, and your estranged sister.

What the Hell do you even name that many damn whelps...

[ms-demeanor]

making my own post because nobody needs my bullshit on their post:

OP:

Reblog 1:

Reblog 2:

My response:

The IRA blogs were here and they were active and they were quite popular; their posting patterns did not match normal tumblr users (i was followed by lagonegirl and followed back only to be put off by the account reblogging the same five or ten posts every hour for a day before selecting another five or ten posts to reblog hourly the next day - it was clear engagement bait).

Tumblr has never been as transparent about these accounts as both Twitter and Facebook were, but several of the accounts had shared names across platforms and you can find a significant amount of data that was released by both facebook (ex: ads purchased by the IRA accounts) and twitter (over three million tweets from IRA accounts). Academic researchers have published papers on the data released from facebook and twitter. Several papers. So many papers. Soooooo many papers. We have a LOT of direct evidence that you can explore for yourself that there were hundreds (possibly thousands) of IRA accounts that were created on Facebook and Twitter. Of those accounts, some shared usernames across platforms, and of those accounts, a few had tumblr accounts that posted the same content on twitter and tumblr.

To quote a buzzfeed news article from the time:

The Russian-run Tumblr accounts used the same, or very similar, usernames as the account names contained on a list of confirmed IRA accounts Twitter submitted to congressional investigators. In some cases, the Tumblr and Twitter account has the same profile image or linked to each other in their bios. Some IRA Tumblrs and Twitter accounts also cross-promoted content between platforms, further linking them together.

Current tumblr user @ alwaysbewoke (who I don't want to tag because I'm sure he's got better things to do) is interviewed in that article and talks about following one of the blogs identified by tumblr as an IRA blog that had a matching account on twitter identified as an IRA account but unfollowing when the left-leaning blog supposedly run by a black creator started rooting for trump in the election.

Dr. Jonathan Albright is heavily quoted in the article; the data review he collaborated on is one of the only reviews of this subject that includes data from Tumblr and Reddit.

One of the claims that I've seen is that tumblr just deleted funny black people, but these were blogs with thousands of followers on tumblr who never recreated, never popped up on another social media site, never started a reddit account after getting banned; nobody ever showed up saying "hey this is 4mysquad, I got banned on tumblr and twitter, follow me to pillowfort". These very popular blogs got deleted and, as far as I know, nobody ever popped up claiming to be a person who was deleted - and it's not like tumblr users haven't figured out how to evade bans.

What you are doing when you make posts saying that the IRA accounts on tumblr never existed is *absolving tumblr of guilt for their utter lack of transparency.*

Tumblr is not the only tech company that has tried to fly under the radar as its larger counterparts face regular scrutiny in Congress and in the press. Earlier this month, Reddit revealed it too had deleted hundreds of accounts with ties to the Internet Research Agency. A WIRED investigation found more than a thousand links to Russian propaganda websites are still live on Reddit, and unearthed two suspicious accounts that Reddit immediately shut down.

So should you believe what Tumblr says? No, because Tumblr has been functionally fucking silent on this issue and the information about this subject aside from the list of blogs has come from the hard work of data scientists, journalists, and researchers.

(For the record; some of those bot accounts that were recorded by Dr. Albright also had Google+ accounts in 2017 - there is every possibility that they had myspace accounts).

Now, the reason that I'm popping onto this post as an annoyed anarchist is that I was tracking a similar group of blogs for a while and was discussing them and I stopped precisely because of the galaxy-brained liberals who are now trying to dunk on communists for criticizing electoralism. One of the people who was following my project was one of the ones who started calling out the "joe biden kills dogs" posts as disinfo and I realized they were using some of the guidelines I'd written up to "identify" misinformation and that is very a rock fucking stupid approach to what was clearly a leftist making jokes and was horrified and realized there was no way that I could continue documenting what I was documenting without someone attempting to call actual leftists russian bots.

I've seen the post that OP is referencing [it's one where someone makes a very obvious joke about the democrat presidential ticket and people jump on to call them a bot and then someone tries to do the "AI tell me a story" thing and OP is just like "I don't want to :(", proving that they are in fact a person and not an AI] and have deeply enjoyed the humor of watching liberals a) not understand a very, VERY obvious joke and b) become the unwitting butt of a joke they were trying to make, but also I am so exhausted by watching normie dems call leftists AI bots after years of watching normie dems call real live actual leftists who hold actual political views that real people actually have, like prison abolition, russian bots.

But I am also so fucking tired of left conspiracism and how stupid it sounds when leftists dismiss a preponderance of evidence that is easily accessible and publicly available for analysis as "lol so you just trust everything tumblr tells you?"

No, dipshit, learn to click a fucking link or twelve.

[nobrashfestivity]

Everyone Hates Poetry 2024

Rules

Write a poem before Feb.5th and submit it to me with the submit feature or in an ask.

Poems should be less than 500 words

You can use your real name or your blog name but they can't be completely anonymous.

Poems will be published at 9pm on Wednesdays and then a link to each poem will be added to the bottom of this pinned post so people can read them all.

I can't stop anyone from reblogging their own poems and generally sharing art is a wonderful thing, but don't turn it into some kind of social media campaign. because people with a small number of followers would be at a disadvantage. This is supposed to be fun. Please do reblog this post and tag people if you think you know someone on tumblr that might be interested. Since the post will contain links to the submissions, your poem will not be lost in the shuffle.

If I receive less than 10 entries I'll cancel the contest and consider it a failed experiment.

Public voting will begin after the 5th.and account for 50% of the vote

A panel of judges will also vote but will not submit poems themselves, and their votes will make up the other 50% of the final tally.

.There will be small prizes for the winner and runner up.

This is my art blog and will remain so, as it always has been. I'm doing this because poets here don't get much chance to get their stuff read and I have a fair number of followers. It's just a little thing to do if you want. I'm not turning this into a poetry blog or a contest blog or anything else.

Poems don't need to be finished. Due to the one month time frame I would suspect these would be first drafts, but please write something new. I want to encourage people to do something now, however imperfect, rather than showing work that's already done.

Updates will follow. Thank you!

Rule clarifications

-Please dont send poems anonymously if at all possible. I am happy to include a name that doesn't identify your blog directly but it's impossible to refer to or contact people who submit poems anonymously. I can't have anonymous poems considered without at least a name for you and if you were to win a prize, you'd need a name and address to claim it. I don't so much care about the latter part, that's for you, this becomes very disorganized and hard to regulate with anonymous messages floating in.

-Please put the title of your poem above it. If it is below it, I have no way of distinguishing with certainty if it's a title or a last line.

One poem per person please.

if you do not wish to see the poetry contest entries just filter the tag "everyone hates poetry 2024"

Due to the very high volume of submissions I am blogging them more gradually as to give more attention to each one. The same tag, "everyone hates poetry 2024", that you can filter if you do not want to see these can be used to find the submissions. If you follow this tag you'll get them all.

Please note that I am now publishing these as asks, previously I had to retype to keep the formatting and there are simply too many entries

Submissions are now closed, I will be publishing submissions all week and then when all have been posted we will start the voting (stay tuned as to how and when)

[msmk11]

Best Friend's Mom Part Two

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5.6k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mentions of food, mentions of absent parent, hints of angst, light smut in the middle, full smut at the end

Summary: You and Wanda had just slept together. You had just slept with your best friends' mom. But what happens after? Will the best night of your life be a one-time thing?

A/n: GUYS. Thank you SO MUCH for all the love on part 1. I was so anxious to post it because I had never written for Wanda before, and I thought it was lowkey crap. But you guys have been so kind, and loving, and supportive, and it made my week. I was feeling a little bit of pressure to write this next part because part one did so well, but I'm happy with the finished product. I've also decided to have a part 3 and 4 to finish up this story because I want it to span the whole week of reader's spring break. I hope that you all enjoy it and if you want to be added to the tag list for this series just lmk.

Seriously all my love, MK <3

There is something hot blowing on your neck when you first wake up, and your sleepy brain is a little more than confused. Through your bleary eyes you look for the source, and that’s when everything from the night before comes rushing back.

Wanda.

You and Wanda.

Sleeping together.

Not only are you currently sharing a bed with your two best friends’ mom, you slept with her.

What makes it worse? It was fucking amazing. And you want do it again.

You know you’re going to hell. You’d just crossed so many boundaries, and you aren’t sure Billy and Tommy will ever forgive you if they find out.

When they find out.

“Detka,”

Your racing thoughts, and also heart, comes to a halt at the soft whisper of Wanda’s own personal nickname for you- one that sounded so different less than 12 hours ago as you made her hoarse with pleasure.

Cautiously, you roll on your side to meet Wanda face-to-face. Even in the morning she looks so incredibly beautiful, with her red waves sprawled out on her pillow, her green eyes soft and warm, and her pink lips just a little swollen from the night before.

“What’s that pretty little mind of yours thinking about so early,” she asks quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You lean into her touch and close your eyes, “You. Us. Last night.”

Her hand pulls away and you open your eyes, “Do you regret it, Detka?”

“No Wanda, of course not. I don’t. It’s just, this-“

“Makes things complicated?”

You sigh and nod. You chew on your lip anxiously as all the racing thoughts come back.

“Honey, stop,” Wanda says, placing her thumb on your bottom lip, “you’ll hurt yourself.”

She pulls you into her arms and places the softest, sweetest kiss against your lips. You melt into her embrace and decide to ignore all your problems for just a little longer. Anyways, how could anything really be wrong when Wanda holds you as if nothing could hurt you?

“We’ll figure it all out in time, baby. But for now, just lay with me for a while, yeah?”

You press a gentle kiss to her neck, an action that speaks far louder than any words, and snuggle closer into her. With her fingers running gently through your hair, and the rhythmic sound of her heartbeat against your ear, you are lulled back into a dreamless sleep.

When you wake up a little while later, the spot next to you is cold, and you know that at some point Wanda slipped out while you were sleeping to avoid suspicion. You know she did the right thing, and that it’s for the best, but the secrecy of it all is just a little painful.

You shrug it off, however, and crawl out of bed. Until you can assess the state of your skin- Wanda’s mouth had been all over- you throw on sweats and a hoodie. As you traipse down the hall you’re met with the smell of pancakes and quiet chatter. Before you step into the kitchen, you admire the pretty picture before you- Wanda sat between her two boys at the table as they all eat pancakes and reminisce about the past. You almost feel bad ruining it.

Almost.

But your hunger wins out.

“She finally decides to join us,” Tommy teases as you step into the kitchen.

You stick your tongue out at him as you sit down to his right and begin to pile pancakes onto your plate.

“I was starting to worry that you were dead,” Billy adds, and you roll your eyes.

“I must’ve just been worn out,” you reply, briefly glancing at Wanda before looking down and shoveling food into your mouth.

“Did you not sleep okay, honey?”

You look up at Wanda again and notice a glint of mischief in her green eyes, “Just always a little restless sleeping in a new bed, but I fell asleep eventually.”

“You just let me know if I can do anything to help,” she says sweetly. And then, she winks.

You choke on your pancake a little and Tommy starts patting your back. When you finally get a little air back in your lungs you cough out, “okay, thanks, Wanda.”

She’s gonna be the death of you.

*****

The boys decide that the four of you will head into the beach town today to look around the shops and restaurants. You’re more than grateful for this, especially with the alternative being that you’d have to see Wanda in a bikini yet again.

You’re dressed simple in cutoff blue jeans and a plain white tank top, and you’ve tucked your hair under a white baseball cap. Wanda, it seems, is still trying to tease you, wearing the cutest flowy, white skirt with a maroon tank top. It’s maddening and you almost scoff at her audacity. If her boys weren’t with you, you’d probably drag her off to a bathroom right now and take her right then and there. Alas, they are, and so you have to practice self-control. It’s still easier than maintaining self-control around her in a swimsuit, so you feel grateful to walk around with your friends and fawn over little trinkets you absolutely do not need. You plan to do your very best to forget that Wanda’s even there, but she has other plans.

Wanda’s hands are all. over. you. all. day.

Mind you, all of her touches are subtle enough that Billy and Tommy would never suspect a thing. But they’re not subtle to you. You feel every touch tenfold, and it leaves you a little dazed after each interaction.

When you get to the first shop, a mini boutique, Billy, ever the gentleman, holds the door open for you and Wanda. The redhead doesn’t just motion for you to go inside first. No. Instead, she places her hand on the small of your back and guides you into the store, letting her hand linger a little near your ass until Billy and Tommy step inside.

At the book store, you find a copy of the romance novel you’ve been dying to read but couldn’t find anywhere. Unfortunately, it’s up on a high shelf that you can’t quite reach. Just as you turn to look for one of the twins, Wanda saddles up behind you touching your shoulder, “I got it, honey.”

She uses you as a balance as she stands on her tip toes and grabs you the book. It’s in your trembling hands the next moment and then she’s disappeared to another aisle.

The local thrift store in town is packed full of clutter. Realistically, only one person can walk down a row at a time because of how narrow they are. Wanda, of course, ignores this unsaid rule entirely, at least when it comes to you. As you sift through the racks upon racks of clothes, Wanda wonders over and begins to make small talk about your thrift finds. Then, without warning she says, “excuse me, honey,” and grabs your waist, shifting you so that she can pass by. Her tits rub up against your back when she does it, and you shiver.

The four of you have lunch at a cute cafe, and sit at a circle table on the outdoor patio. Unsurprisingly, you end up sitting next to Wanda, and her hand magically finds its way to your thigh. You desperately try to keep your cool throughout lunch and hope that your face isn’t too flushed. Near the end of the meal, her hand begins moving up and down your thigh, creeping a little closer to where you want her. You cough and stand abruptly, getting startled looks from your friends.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.”

You rush inside and splash water on your face.

Throughout the day, even when Wanda isn’t touching you, she somehow always manages to drive you crazy. At the tourist shop, Wanda decides to try on a sweatshirt. When she’s taking it off, her shirt rides up a little and you see a little patch of her soft, beautiful skin. When you grab a treat from the ice cream shop, you nearly lose your mind as she licks whipped cream off her fingertip to “sample it.”

Wanda’s teasing is nonstop and relentless all afternoon. By the time you get back for dinner you’re a complete and utter mess. But you’re not guaranteed any relief because Billy and Tommy drag you away to swim. Even though you shoot Wanda a desperate glance, she only winks and gets back to cooking.

*****

The evening had been spent by the pool, getting out occasionally to eat a little, and then jumping back in. You competed in races with Tommy, dove for pool sticks, and convinced Wanda to join you three for Marco Polo. As night settles in, the air cools down and the pool becomes much too chilly to bear. Not wanting to go inside just yet, you move to the hot tub. As you sink into the bubbling, hot water you sigh loudly. Your tense muscles ease and you begin to regain some feeling in your chilled fingers and toes.

You rest your head against the edge of the tub as you call out goodnight to Billy and Tommy. Wanda goes in with them, taking the dishes to the kitchen, and you have to admit that you’re a little disappointed she doesn’t stay outside.

The door shuts with a resounding thud, and you are left alone with your thoughts. It’s quiet, and the only thing you can hear are the crickets chirping and the bubbling water in which you sit. You’re blanketed in darkness, even the moon asleep for the night, save for the stars that sprinkle the navy sky.

The peaceful evening soothes you, and you close your eyes. You hear the wooden door open and close again, and soft, padded footsteps across the deck. You’re too scared to open your eyes and see who it is- for fear of disappointment. This time, you’re not disappointed.

Eyes still closed, you feel soft lips capture yours and you gasp softly. When Wanda pulls away your eyes flutter open and you find hers staring back at you fondly. She hasn’t yet joined you in the hot tub, but is rather standing at its edge, leaning over to kiss you from upside down.

You smile softly at her, “Hey, Wanda.”

“Hi Detka. I missed you,” she whispers against your lips.

“You were with me all day.”

“Not in the way that I wanted to be.”

“Well you sure got your fair share of teasing in,” you fake scold, “did that satisfy you enough?”

She slowly shakes her and rasps, “no.”

“We’ll have to fix that then.”

Wanda walks around the hot tub to the stairs and wades into the water. She slowly, tantalizingly, makes her way towards you. You sigh out her name impatiently and then finally, finally, your lips connect. You grab her waist gently and pull her closer to you.

Wanda’s hands find a home in your hair as she tugs on it a little and you moan.

“God, I’ve been dying to touch you all day,” she murmurs.

“I could tell,” you pant, “such a fucking tease, grabbing my hips, touching my shoulders, rubbing my thigh. It’s too bad Billy and Tommy were there, or I would’ve had my way with you.”

“Not very nice to say about your best friends.”

“Hard to care about them when you’re in front of me,” you admit, “all beautiful, and interesting, and alluring.”

You press a final kiss to her lips and then pull away, kissing her cheek, then her jaw, then behind her ear, her neck, her collarbone, and then right between her tits.

You keep your mouth there, hoping to leave a mark behind that will be just out of sight when she wears a tank top or a revealing dress. She grabs your head and pushes it forward, burying it deeper in her chest. Her soft moans and sighs make you grip her waist harder, and you pull her onto your lap where you’re sitting in the hot tub. When you nip slightly at her skin she whimpers and you moan against her.

“You sound so pretty Wanda,” you tell her, voice muffled.

You place kisses back up her chest as your hands move downwards to squeeze her ass. She squeals a little and you press another kiss to her lips to silence her.

“Wanna see you, baby,” Wanda tells you.

Her hands creep around your back and slowly untie your swimsuit. Your top falls away revealing your tits to her. It’s too dark for her to see much, but she still whispers, “so beautiful, Detka.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to each before reaching out and groping them. You throw your head back and sigh. It’s a relief, finally having her hands on you again after all the teasing. She slowly massages each of your tits and you pant, gripping her waist so tightly you’re surprised she hasn’t yelped in pain. When her thumb runs over your sensitive nipples, your hips buck up into hers.

“Wanda, I-“

“I know, baby.”

Just as she is leaning down to take you into her mouth the door to the house squeals open. You jump apart, a string of curses leaving your mouth as you cover yourself and sink lower into the water.

Tommy peaks his head out, “Guys, come watch a movie with us. We’ve got it queued up.”

You quietly groan.

Thankfully, Wanda responds for you both.

“Okay, moya lubov. We’ll dry off and be in.”

Tommy closes the door, and you groan much louder now, letting your head fall back against the hot tub in defeat.

Wanda chuckles lowly, “we’ll finish this another time, baby. Promise.”

You sigh and nod.

“Here, let me help you put this back on,” Wanda says kindly, picking up your discarded top.

You turn away from Wanda, and she wraps it back around you. She breathes on your neck as she ties it back in place, and her fingers just ghost over your back. You hold your breath, savoring every moment.

When she’s done, she places a kiss to your neck and pats your ass, “there, all done. Now let’s go watch this movie.”

*******

The rest of your evening had been 2 hours and 12 minutes of torture, and then bedtime. You’d sat in an armchair cuddled up to Tommy while Billy and Wanda had laid on the couch together. You don’t recall a single second of the movie because you had been too busy watching Wanda the whole time.

You adored the way her nose crinkled when she laughed, how her frown during sad scenes was a little crooked, and the way her brows furrowed together when a character was being particularly ridiculous. No matter what face she was making, she was beautiful. And you couldn’t understand how anyone could have been interested in watching a movie when the picture of grace herself had sat before you.

It was mind-numbing, the way Wanda seemed to consume every waking and sleeping second of your mind. There was nothing you could do to ease her from your thoughts, and she was so clearly not keen on helping you out either. You desperately wondered if you’d ever get another moment alone before you headed back to college in four days. If you didn’t, you weren’t sure what you’d do.

Was death by longing even a thing?

Your bed had been cold that night, and you weren’t sure how you’d ever slept without Wanda by your side. Her warmth eased your tense body, her arms kept you safe, her tender kisses reminded you you were alive, and her sweet words whispered into your ears filled your heart to the brim. You knew you were totally fucked, but in a state of denial, you hoped that just one more good fuck would get it out of your system.

The next morning is calm and peaceful, the late night before having kept everyone confined to their beds until a much later hour. You opt out of breakfast and instead lay sprawl out on your bed, fan blowing cool air on you and the windows cracked to hear the waves. You decide to finally start the new book you got in town, and you cozy up in your comforter excitedly.

You open the paperback and crack the spine a little with a resounding pop. This and the smell of fresh pages sends a shiver up your spine and you kick your feet happily. Your eyes eagerly scan the first few pages as you take in the plot, setting and characters. You can feel yourself slowly sinking into the magical fictional world before you and you feel triumphant. Finally, finally, you’ve found something that distracts you from Wanda.

And it does. For a little while. But about twenty pages in a flash of red hair crosses your mind. You shake it off and read another page. Green eyes pierce your vision. You blink it away rapidly. Her perfume seems to waft into your nose, and you stuff your face into your shirt. You try to persevere, but when you realize that you’ve read the same line about ten times now and have yet to process it, you know it’s hopeless. You’re never one to treat a book unkindly, but you’re so frustrated that you toss it across the room and bury yourself under your covers.

Since your brain seems so keen on it, you let yourself indulge in a fictional scene of your own- one of domestic bliss between you and Wanda.

It’d be a hot summer day, just like this one, and you and Wanda would be at your shared cottage home in the countryside. The fan would be humming softly above you while birds and bugs chirped and buzzed through the screened back door. You and Wanda would be on your long, white couch with colorful throws, bare legs tangled. It’d be too hot be fully dressed, so you’d each just be in a pair of underwear and the other’s shirt. Maybe Wanda had made you two some ice-cold lemonade that you sipped on slowly as you casually drew patterns on her leg. Wanda, on the other end, would have a book propped open. She’d be reading it to you, in that soft, sweet voice that makes you melt. When you’d get lost in her eyes instead of listening to her read, she’d playfully scold you.

You could almost hear her now saying, “Detka, Detka. Are you paying attention?”

It’s when an arm touches your shoulder that you realize the real Wanda is actually before you, talking to you.

You jolt and inhale quickly, “huh? What? Sorry I was daydreaming.”

She chuckles and you notice that she’s sitting on the edge of your bed as she smoothes out the wrinkled corners, “I just came to tell you that we’re going out for a nice dinner tonight and that our reservation is at 6:00. Do you have something to wear?”

You do, luckily, and you thank past you for thinking ahead, “yes, I have a few options to choose from. What time should I be ready by?”

Wanda thinks for a moment, “5:00 probably. I want to get some pictures of everyone dressed up too before we head out. And you know how my boys are about photos, always so particular.”

You snort out an understanding giggle, recalling the many times you've taken ‘unsatisfactory’ photos for your friends, and then having to redo them all.

Wanda stands then and smiles sweetly at you, “well, that’s all I had to say, but I’ll leave you to your daydreaming now.”

And when she’s sure no one is coming down the hall, she presses a few hurried kisses to your lips and then leaves the room and you, yearning for more.

*****

You decide to doll yourself up extra nice for the occasion and try to convince yourself it’s all for you and not… others.

You’re wearing flowy blue pants made of a silky material and a white tank top with a scoop neck and wide straps. A dainty gold necklace sits prettily against your collarbone and one or two gold bands rest on your fingers. Strappy white sandals are your shoe of choice, and you make sure to paint your toes a blue color similar to your pants. You keep your makeup simple, only a few swipes of mascara and a quick brush of your brows.

You head out into the living room and whistle lowly, “what a group we are.”

Tommy and Billy have dressed up rather nicely. The former is wearing a nice, short sleeve white shirt and khaki pants. Billy has on a nice red polo and black slacks.

Instead of rustling the boys’ hair like you usually would, you pat their cheeks like a fond grandmother, “look at you two, my boys. All handsome and grown up.”

You wipe away a fake tear and they roll their eyes at you, exasperated.

“I’m just glad you were able to dress up nice,” Tommy retorts, “instead of your usual sewer rat look.”

You scoff, more than offended, and this time do go to ruffle his hair, “did your mother never teach you manners?”

“She taught us to respect those who earned it. You haven’t yet,” Billy deadpans.

You smack his arm rather hard, and you don’t miss the way he winces and rubs the sore spot a little.

“Would it really kill you to tell me I look nice?” you ask, hands on your hips.

Billy dramatically groans, “fine, fine. You look… nice.”

You look at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.

“You know you look beautiful,” he replies, “do I need to say it?”

You sit on the arm of the couch next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, “just feels nice to be appreciated sometimes.”

Tommy scoffs playfully, “as if we don’t spoil you rotten with attention.”

You wave him off dismissively and reach out to grab Billy’s hand, giving him a kind squeeze.

It’s in this warm embrace that Wanda finds you all when she emerges from her room. She looks absolutely breathtaking. Of course, she always does, but this. Wow.

Wanda has pulled her hair back into a slick bun and is wearing a slim-fitting, long green dress. It’s an emerald green that looks so nice against her pale skin, and the red lipstick on her lips makes them look even more kissable than usual. She has dangly silver earrings in, a chunky silver necklace, and a small chain bracelet for jewelry. You’re literally speechless, your mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Well, how do I look?” She asks with a little spin.

Tommy stands and gives her a side hug, “beautiful as always, Mama.”

“The prettiest lady ever,” Billy agrees, joining his family on his mom’s other side. She presses tender kisses to the sides of each of their heads, a big beaming smile on her face.

“Honey, could you get a picture of us?” She asks you sweetly.

You simply nod, too dumb to talk, and take Tommy’s phone. They stand together, arms around each other, and they look like a perfect little family. Wanda is clearly so proud of her sons, and them so devoted and loving to their mother. It makes your heart ache, not only because of fondness but also regret.

Billy and Tommy have opened up to you about how hard it was for Wanda to put their lives and family back together after their dad left. And now, seeing them together, so happy and complete, you feel like an intruder. Out of place. And when you think about Wanda, you want her so badly. But you wonder if you want her enough to risk tearing down everything she’s worked so hard to build.

“There, that should be good,” you say quietly.

Wanda steps forward, “here let me get some pictures of you three.”

When she takes the phone from you, your fingers brush, and you jolt away a little. You try to play it off coolly and go stand in Wanda’s place between the two boys. You smile widely, your arms wrapped around each brother, but the ache is still a little present in your throat.

“Okay, I’ve got some,” the redhead tells you, “but I want a few with you too, honey,” she says, looking at you.

“But why, mom?” Billy asks.

“Well I have to document the best Chicken duo this world has ever seen,” she says with a teasing voice.

The boys groan simultaneously and roll their eyes.

“No need to rub it in, mom.”

She smirks a little as she goes to stand next to you.

“They’re just jealous,” she says, with a stage whisper.

And then, when they’re not paying attention, she actually whispers, “and stop worrying, Detka. Everything is going to be okay.”

“How did you-?”

She briefly glances at your lips and you realize that you’re chewing on them yet again. You stop immediately and she squeezes your side reassuringly. You face the camera and wrap your arm loosely around Wanda’s shoulders. This time, your smile is much more genuine.

*****

Dinner had been amazing. Red sauce pasta with a delightful layer of cheese, and rolls that seemed to be coming out as soon as a basket was emptied. You all had indulged in a little red wine too, and you felt perfectly relaxed and full. The night had been near perfect. But something was missing. Dessert.

You don’t have to go looking far, because it presents itself in the form of Wanda Maximoff, sitting there at dinner looking so delectable in her emerald green dress, teasing you with her sneaky looks and seductive red lips. It feels like ages since you’d last really touched Wanda, and you don’t think you can hold off much longer. You hope your eyes tell her so as the four of you sit around the living room coffee table playing various card games. Eventually, you feign a yawn, and proclaim that you are calling it a night- wine always making you a little sleepy.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth. You are wide awake and alert. You waltz off down the hall, but you don’t go into your room. Instead, you take a turn into Wanda’s and quickly shut the door behind you. You wait for her on the soft, bouncy mattress.

It seems as if you’re waiting for Wanda for ages. But you suppose impatience on your end and her need to prevent suspicion only makes it seem so. Finally, you hear the faint creak of the floorboards coming closer and closer to the door. It cracks open and there she is in all her glory. She shuts it softly behind her and you both share a giddy smile like scheming little kids. She uses the door handle as a balance as she slips her heels off and tosses them to the side. Then, she reaches to her hair and pulls out all the clips and hair ties holding the bun together, and her long red waves cascade down her shoulders mesmerizingly. She slowly slinks towards you, drawing you in with her seductress powers. She slots herself between your legs at the edge of the bed and bends down to kiss you deeply.

You inhale sharply against her lips and hold her jaw with your hand. After a few deep kisses she breaks away and whispers, “take that shirt off for me pretty girl. I want to see you.”

To her surprise, and maybe even a little to yours, you say, “no.”

She raises her eyebrows in shock and then they furrow into worry, “do you not want this? I’m sorry if I misread the room I-“

You place a finger to her lips gently, “No, Wanda. You didn’t read anything wrong. I do want this. I want you. But I don’t want you to do anything. I just wanna take care of you. Is that okay? A woman like you should be worshiped.”

Her features soften into what you’d almost coin adoration, but you don’t get your hopes up.

She moves around the side of the bed and lays down up against her pillows, “okay baby, you take charge. Do whatever you want.”

You groan at how soft, and vulnerable, and open she is to you.

God, there are so many things you want to do to Wanda right about now. But what you need most is to taste her. You crawl up to Wanda and place yourself between her legs. You place your hands gently on the back of her neck and lean in for a tender kiss. It’s slow and deep and Wanda just sighs softly. Her hands find a home on your back as you continue to kiss her, slowly adding in tongue. As your hands begin to travel from her neck and down to her sides, just barely grazing her breasts, the kisses get a little more passionate and your breathing heavier. Like last night, you begin to trail kisses down her body. But this time, you don’t stop at her chest. You keep going, pressing kisses to her clothed stomach. When you get to her legs, you teasingly slide your hands up under her dress, fingers dancing around her ankles.

“I need you higher,” she rasps, and you smirk smugly just a little.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

You slowly push the hem of her soft, green dress upwards, revealing more and more skin as you go. You push it all the way up, letting the dress pool around her waist. You start at her ankles again, this time pressing soft kisses up her legs until your hot breath is on her thighs. She nearly whines at you being so close to touching her, and you giggle, “be patient, sweetheart. I’m almost there.”

And then with one or two more gentle kisses to her inner thighs, you place the softest, teasing kiss on her clothed center. That alone causes Wanda to moan, her hips bucking up into your face a little.

“Detka, please,” she sighs.

You grab the top of her underwear and pull it down her legs, tossing it across the room somewhere.

“Such a beautiful pussy, Wanda,” you sigh.

You lean forward and press another kiss to her, this time, bare cunt. You know she likes it because her legs squeeze your head encouragingly. You lick one strip up the middle and she moans so prettily you squeeze your own legs together. After you’ve gotten one taste, you’re ravenous. You immediately dive in headfirst, licking and sucking at her soft, pink pussy.

She continuously lets out sighs and moans of your name, honey, or Detka. You hold onto her thighs as you continue to eat her out and squeeze them gently, letting her know how good she’s doing. You can tell when Wanda starts to get close because she only gets wetter and wetter. She reaches down and grabs your hair roughly, shoving your face further into her pussy. She lets out a whine and her back arches, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“F-feels so g-good,” she stutters out.

You hum against her and you know it feels good because she lets out yet another moan. To get Wanda to her orgasm, you decide to double the stimulation. Your face moves downwards, sending your tongue in and out of her wet hole. Then, you add a finger to the mix, rubbing small tight circles on her clit quickly. Her back arches again at the newfound pleasure, and the grip she has on your hair is almost painful. But you don’t stop. You continue to thrust in and out while pinching and rubbing her clit. Her moans are so consistent and fairly loud that you’re a little worried her boys will hear. But you’re so lost in her pussy, and she in her pleasure, that you don’t care. With one final hard thrust of your tongue, Wanda plummets over the edge. Her thighs squeeze tightly around your head and your hair is wrapped around her fingers in a coil. Her back arches off the bed significantly and her body shakes in waves of pleasure. The pretty little whines and moans she lets out as she comes makes you want to instantly go for round two. But you don’t, letting her come back down from her high. When she does, she looks a little dazed.

“Well?” You ask slyly.

“Detka,” she sighs, and then she pulls you upward by the shirt and passionately kisses you. When she tastes herself on your lips, she moans again.

You and Wanda are all over each other for quite awhile, and you’re both left feeling pretty fucked out and spacey. Everything with her felt and feels so good. And you know you’re ruined for anyone else. You lay on her bare chest, legs intertwined, and she strokes your back softly. Your eyes flutter shut at her featherlight touches and you’re sure you could fall asleep right then and there. Paired with her slow, quiet breathing, you are in bliss.

“You’re so perfect and beautiful, Detka,” she whispers into your ear.

It tickles and you shiver a little. You place an affirming kiss on her bare chest and snuggle in closer to her side. And as she holds you, as you begin to fall asleep in her arms yet again, you know for sure now that you are fucked. You know then that you are not just attracted to Wanda. You have feelings for her. And the once pleasurable, fluttering butterflies in your stomach are replaced by a big, solid rock.

______________________________________________________________

tag list: @xenaizogie @alexawynters @eclipse727 @idkwhatever580 @opp-jumpscare @starynn @alessiaswifey @noturlondonboy

[marlenesluv]

Lessons (LN) - Part 2

Summary: Madelyn takes Lando up on his offer to party, hoping to find some single guys...

Pairing: Madelyn Fewtrell x Lando Norris

Warnings for this part: Language, Mentions of lose of virginity, Not spell-checked

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At eight pm, Madelyn was freshly showered, exfoliated, shaved, and moisturized. She wasn't exactly expecting to sleep with someone tonight, but the thought lingered.

She wanted her first time to be perfect...well, not perfect. Just decent would do. She wanted to feel confident, smell nice, and hopefully have a decent time.

Taking a deep breath, she finalized her curls. Her long brown hair was cascading down her back. Which she hoped looked good. She wasn't just hopefully meeting a cute guy; she was also meeting all of Lando's fellow drivers and friends.

Madelyn knew a lot about Formula 1, but very little about the current drivers on the grid. Of course, she followed after Max retired, but not closely. Her knowledge was slim, all she knew was that Max was winning, and poor Charles couldn't catch a break.

She jumped at the knock on her bedroom door. "Mads? Are you almost ready? I told Daniel that we'd meet him and a few others at a restaurant before so we can catch up."

"Shit." Madelyn whispered to herself, spraying her perfume on haphazardly. "Yeah! Sorry, I'm coming out!"

Lando sighed, looking at his shoes as he heard Madelyn rummage around her suitcase.

He was happy she was there. Happy to be the one to be able to show her around Monaco, to be the one she ate meals with, to be the one to make sure she was comfortable. He never had a crush on Madelyn, but he knew she was beautiful. Anyone could see that.

Everything about her made him slightly nervous now. She was grown up. He could only imagine how many guys had thrown themselves at her, how many guys she had kissed, and possibly let fu-

"Lando! Did you not hear me?" Madelyn asked, confused by the far off look on his face.

"What?" He asked, clearing his throat and cracking his knuckles, still not making eye contact with her.

"Do I look okay? I don't want to look stupid in front of your friends." Madelyn shifted from one foot to the other as she waited for him to look at her and answer.

Lando finally looked up, his breath getting caught in his throat, all he could do was nod.

He didn't think he had ever seen anyone so beautiful. The way her hair framed her face and the dress she wore hug her curves perfectly. He noticed that she opted for flats instead of heels, probably to be more comfortable during the night.

The perfume she had just sprayed did not go unnoticed by Lando. What also didn't go unnoticed was the way she clenched her thighs and sniffed when he glanced at her chest and bit his lip.

Clearing his throat again, he nodded, "Yeah, um...you look fine." Madelyn's shoulders sagged a bit, "Fine? Should I go change?"

"Wha-what? No!! I mean, no, you look good- great! Sorry...Mads, you look beautiful." Lando smiled, being more genuine now, really admiring her pouty lips.

"Okay. Well, then yeah, I'm ready. Are we walking?"

"Walking? Are you crazy? I have a car, you know? Multiple actually." Lando said, adding a little sass to his comment, making her laugh.

"Right, sorry, Mr. Big, what car did you want to take then?" Madelyn laughed, thanking Lando as he opened the door to his garage for her.

"Mr. Big? Did you just 'Sex and the City' reference me?" It was Lando's turn to laugh now, making Madelyn smile and nod, "Yeah, you're acting like you're Mr. Big, so..." she shrugged earning a scoff.

"Whatever, let's take the McLaren 720s." He said, opening the passenger door for Madelyn as she widened her eyes.

"Um, thanks." She sat down, careful to not touch anything in the car that was worth more than her life. The interior and exterior of this car made her want to cry. It was absolutely stunning. She knew this had to cost hundreds of thousands, but probably not much for Lando.

Lando noticed her shift in mood. He knew the car was a lot, and that this was a big change. And maybe he shouldn't have flirted with her by her room like that. He didn't want to scare her off all the way back to her brother.

Putting the car into drive, Lando drove off with the music on as Madelyn pulled at her fingers and toyed with her necklace. Her nerves were taking over. Meeting new people that she had nothing in common with, living in a new country, being with Lando in his expensive car in this expensive country with people that made millions.

She felt a bit out of place. That didn't mean that she wanted to move. She was just not use to the luxuries of Monaco yet. Monaco was always fascinating to Madelyn in her younger years, but she never expected to be here.

Her thoughts were halted to a stop as Lando opened his door handed his keys to the valet and went to the other side of his McLaren. As he opened Madelyn's door, he smiled and took her hand and whispered to her, "There's not as many people in Monaco, so don't worry too much about them taking pictures."

Madelyn nodded as she took his hand and walked away from the car, following him into the restaurant. The restaurant, she noticed, was beautiful. It looked spotless and rich.

"Do you two have a reservation?" The man asked from the hostess stand, Lando nodding. "Yeah. We're meeting a party here. Should be under 'Ric'." Madelyn's brows furrowed, "Ric?" She whispered to Lando.

He didn't answer, instead, he shook his head to her, a silent way of telling her to wait a moment.

She nodded, using this time to take a few deep breaths. "Alright, if you two will follow me?" Lando nodded and started walking with Madelyn close behind.

"Your table requested the private room, it's near the back." The man said, opening the door to the private room. As it opened, she noticed the amount of people at the table.

Once the door closed behind them, Lando ushered her toward the table, "I have to introduce you to everyone, yeah?" Madelyn bit her tongue, but gave Lando a quiet "Yea" in response.

Lando led her around the table, introducing her to Carlos and his girlfriend Rebecca first. Rebecca seemed nice enough, each of them ending up talking about their outfits as Lando sighed and Carlos laughed.

"Rebecca is a talker, Lando. She might insist on Madelyn siting by her." Carlos said, putting his arm on the back of his girlfriend's chair. "No, we need to continue. Mads? Mads? Come on."

"Oh! I'll be back!" Madelyn said, Rebecca smiling and laughing as she noticed the way Lando grabbed her hand.

"Are they dating?" Rebecca asked Carlos, earning an eye roll, "No, but I'm sure they will be soon..."

"Mads, this is Daniel and his girlfriend Heidi- No! No talking, save the chit chat, I want to eat." Lando rushed, stopping Heidi when she went to say hi.

"Lando. You're being rude!" Madelyn said, in a quiet shout.

"Nah, he's just being Lando. We can talk after he drags you around here." Daniel said, taking a sip of his drink and laughing.

Lando then introduced her to Oscar and his girlfriend Lily. Followed by Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Pierre Gasly, and Pierre's girlfriend Kika.

Both Max and Charles' girlfriends were apparently out of Monaco but gave you their girlfriends contact info.

"You studied...?" Charles asked, curious.

"Journalism! I had a minor in art history. They don't really go together but...I love art and its history." Madelyn shrugged, taking the seat beside Charles as Lando took the one next to her and next to Carlos.

"Ah! My girlfriend was an Art History major! I'm sure you two could have a lot to talk about." Charles seemed excited.

"Yeah! I'd love to get together with her." Madelyn said sincerely as Charles nodded and texted Alex. "Can you text her your number?"

"Hm? Yeah, of course." Madelyn typed on Charles' phone and handed it back, soon after receiving a message from Alex introducing herself.

After another thirty minutes of talking, she noticed her phone light up, making Lando turn his head from his conversation with Carlos.

"Someone's texting you, Madelyn." He knocked her shoulder, interrupting her chat with Heidi from across the table. "Okay? Anyways, Heidi-"

"You should check it." Lando commented, shrugging and sipping his coke. Madelyn sighed, putting her phone under her thigh and going back to her conversation.

He didn't care who was texting her. He wasn't her boyfriend, even if he was it wouldn't matter- no! Why was he having these thoughts? Lando shook his head and had another bite of his pasta as he felt his pants pocket vibrate with a text notification.

Pulling out his phone he read a notification that said, "I can sense the horny from across the table." It was from Daniel. But the nut sent it to the driver group chat...

"Daniel?" Max asked, furrowing his brows.

Carlos just sighed as Pierre sent laughing emojis and Charles' face went red. Oscar just ignored it and continued talking to Lily. Drivers in the chat that were confused just sent question marks.

Daniel coughed, everyone but the guys were confused, and no one shared the message sent.

"Sorry guys! Didn't mean to send my nuts to the gc! Ignore that for me." Daniel smiled, laughing as Heidi's head snapped toward her boyfriend and yelled at him in a hushed whisper.

"He sent a nude to your group chat?" Madelyn asked, turning to Lando.

"What? Oh, yeah. Nasty one, isn't he?" Lando sighed, thankful for no one saying anything. Even though, he knew, everyone knew what that text was about.

Madelyn made a face and went to eating her pasta, occasionally sipping her red wine.

The rest of the dinner went quick, quiet conversations between everyone and talks about the races between the drivers.

Soon enough it was 11:30 and the girls wanted to go to the nearest club.

"Carlos, you love this club! Don't be boring!" Rebecca said as they all stood on the sidewalk waiting for their cars. Rebecca already a little tipsy. "Erm, Becca I have training...if you want to go you might have to go home with someone else?" Carlos said, cringing as she slapped him on the arm.

"Never mind, I'll just bug you tonight. Goodnight, Guys!" Rebecca called stumbling into Carlos' Ferrari as he said bye to everyone and the two drove off.

The only people ending up going to the club were Lando, Madelyn, Max, Daniel, and Heidi. Charles and Pierre opting out to go to Charles' and relax, whilst Oscar and Lily needed to fly to Australia for break.

"I like Lily, she's sweet." Madelyn said, Lando taking a quick glance at her as he shut his car door to follow the others to the club.

"Yeah? If you come to the races this year, you'll be able to spend more time with her. She usually always comes to support Oscar." Madelyn nodded, "Yeah, if you don't mind. I'd love to come with."

"Of course I don't mind. you came to all my Formula 4 races after all." Lando winked, Madelyn laughing.

"Oh my gosh! I remember those! God, you were so tiny."

"Hey! You're younger than me! You were much smaller." Lando grumbled, turning into the valet spot behind Max as he saw Daniel and Heidi waiting outside the club door.

"Sure, but you were small for a boy your age." Madelyn laughed again, the noise bringing a weird feeling to Lando's stomach that he decided to shake off.

"Let's just go in, you Muppet." Lando said, sighing as he got out and opened her door, Madelyn still laughing as they walked up to the other three.

"You alright there, Fewtrell?" Max asked the girl, noticing her flushed face from laughing, "Yeah, 'm good. Let's go in?"

Heidi nodded, grabbing Madelyn's hand as they walked in, the three others in tow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"You might have a problem on your hands Lando." Daniel spoke, sipping his soda as he watched Heidi drag Madelyn to the dance floor with a Gin & Tonic in her hand and Heidi's hand in the other.

"What do you mean?" He asked, leaning back in the booth they reserved.

"Mate, she's drunk and we've been here for one hour. And she's on top of that guy!" Max noted, making Lando's head snap up and search for the brunette.

"Where?!" He asked, his head snapping in every direction possible.

Daniel started cackling as Max shook his head and laughed, "You are so into her, mate." Max commented.

Lando groaned, "You guys' suck. She's right there with Heidi. No guy- oh..."

Maybe Lando needed that wake-up call. He needed to realize that his best friend's little sister was off limits. Not to mention how mad Max would be.

And Lando tried, he really did try. He tried to keep his eyes off of her and the way she danced. He tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach when she downed another three shots. He also tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that coursed through him when he saw some guy come up behind Madelyn and put his hands on her.

How the guy rested his hands over her ass, dancing with her and she was oblivious. Okay...not oblivious, but he wasn't comfortable.

Sure, she was not drunk, and maybe she did know about the guy behind her, but Lando really couldn't stop himself when he rose from the booth. Ignoring Daniel and Max's comments, asking him where he was going.

Lando truly saw nothing but red as he pushed his way through the crowd dancing. He shoved some people left and right to get to her. And oh, how that made it worse for him.

From this closeness, he could see the boner the guy sported. It seemed as though he was running on default when he dragged Madelyn away as she whined, Heidi not far behind as she knew the night was over.

"Landoooo, what's going on?" Madelyn asked once they had made it back to the booth.

"Max, hand me her bag, please." Lando said, putting his jacket over Madelyn's shoulders and taking the bag once Max handed it over.

"So, you're leaving?" Daniel asked, putting his arm around Heidi as she down.

Lando didn't respond, instead taking Madelyn's hand and leading her to the exit of the club. Soon, they stood in the chilly night, waiting once again for the valet to bring Lando's car.

Madelyn couldn't keep her head on straight on the drive home. She nestled into the seat with Lando's jacket around her as she dozed off.

Lando didn't realize how upset Madelyn would truly be the next morning. She was in Monaco for work and breaking her dry spell, not for a bodyguard.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

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[simp4konig]

"You drive me crazy."

Obsessed! Nikto x Reader

Word count: 2472

Nikto's POV! Sporadic uses of "Y/N" — otherwise, reader is referred as "You".

To say that Nikto is obsessed with you would be an understatement 😵‍💫...

Nikto's psychological state gradually deteriorates as you read!

Google Translate Russian lmao 💀,, please forgive any errors! 😟

Edit: Realising that this fic is darker than my usual works. Warning my readers for darker content!

Edit 2: Added the appropriate "dark content" tags. <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

I've lost my mind long ago. We're losing it as we speak. I've lost myself long ago and I have not known what to do with ourselves.

Of course, not all was lost. I was cleared for service. I can approach situations without hesitation or uncertainty — but most importantly, kill methodically.

All I need are targets. Just give me targets. Nothing else matters. Nobody.

But I found you. I found you. And you found us. Although there was nothing to find, you found us.

How? It's a mystery. An enigma. An unsolvable puzzle.

My name is Igor. Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich.

Игорь. Igor. I—gor. Two syllables. Four letters, in English. A not so common name in Russia, according to the statistics: in 1991 — the year of my birth — approximately 37 baby boys born were named as such. In 2021, only 17 baby boys born were named Igor. I would assume the number declines each year — maybe less than a dozen Igors were christened this year. Or a single digit. Nine. Eight. Seven. Or even less than five.

October 13, 1991 was my exact date of birth. I was born in Novgorod, when Russia was still the Soviet Union. I had parents. A sister…

…Yet that means nothing to me.

Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich? That is foreign. That is not anyone that I know of. I am Nikto. I am no one. Nobody to know, yet somebody that I know of. Not this… Igor. I am nobody. Никто.

When the voices are quiet, that's when I can silently mourn the man that I once was.

Though, can you mourn someone whom you don't know? Can you mourn the faceless person in the casket, whose face is unrecognisable? Can you mourn at a funeral that no one attended, and hadn't taken process?

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to repeat it, yes?

I knew it. We knew it. Everyone else knew it.

But you didn't. You. You.

You… remind me of someone.

They're dead now.

They were just a target. Too bad I can't remember who they were.

But you're not. You're more than a target.

You treated me with kindness when everyone avoided me like the bubonic plague. A Black Death following the death of the former Igor Vasilyevich Yurievich and the black, black blackness lingering — a reminder. But not anything that allows us to remember, or reminds us of who we once were.

I don't remember anything. I don't remember anyone. Photographs of my family before the torture are irrelevant. Documents stamping my existence could just as easily make us inexistent. Nobody exists any more aside from Nikto.

A cacophony of voices has infiltrated my brain. Our brain. We will never be me anymore. We are who we are now.

I am a broken man. I hear the voices of many men, who won't let me sleep, won't leave me be, won't give me peace. I was one of those men. Maybe all of the men are me?

But if all of them are me, and I am all of them, then who are we? What are we?

Then again… who I am is nothing. What I are is everything. What we are — crazy.

The pieces of the puzzle aren't fully there. Surely you must have been aware, my treasure?

You were doing your due diligence to arrange the puzzle pieces, so meticulously and with dedication, devoting hours of your time and wishing for the finished product to be cohesive, but you won't find that within us. How unfortunate.

Some of the pieces are missing. Some of them don't even fit. What you're left with is an incomplete picture — one which will never be completed.

No matter. You can be the missing puzzle piece, yes?

My fellow operatives named me Никто — “Nikto”, meaning “Nobody” or “No-one” in Russian — for… what did they say? My “uncanny ability to replicate other people and hide [my] true identity”? Ironic — seeing as replicating an identity is not the same as claiming your own, and being an individual. Having an actual identity, as opposed to being forced to think that being nobody can suffice.

Funny. I was apparently religious before all of this.

Have you heard of Orthodox Christianity? It's a branch of Christianity most often practised in Eastern Europe, in case you weren't aware. Orthodox Christians believe that Jesus redeemed humanity by sacrificing himself through crucifixion — unlike Catholics, who believe that Jesus sacrificing himself through crucifixion was all in an effort to redeem humanity.

Perhaps I was an altar boy in my childhood. Or wore a cross around my neck. Maybe I was devoted, and prayed in the morning, before a meal for grace, in the night, before a mission for mercy, during a mission out of desperation, and after a mission as gratitude.

Such bullshit.

Obviously, God doesn't exist — not in the ethereal, omniscient sense.

Oh no.

The God is You. You are my God.

Just like with Orthodox Christianity, and the salvation of humanity after the sacrifice of Jesus, your presence, your mere existence, was salvation. You brought redemption unto us.

Of course, following my torture, God became an abstract concept. How could the Holy Father abandon me? How could my prayers after the tortue be so wilfully ignored? Why would he actively play a passive role in my damnation, as I'm burned, as I'm beaten, as I'm bruised, abused, cut, and mutilated?

No one was born a sinner. Not even me, this nobody. So what kind of retribution was this — a disfigured face, ruined body, and voices which infiltrated my psyche, words equivalent to the evil of the Antichrist?

But You? You made it worthwhile. Your kindness. Compassion. Charity. It was all worthwhile. Even to gaze at You from afar.

Well.

For the most part.

We have repented for our sins: stealing Your dirty laundry, Your hairbrush, Your t-shirts, and other trinkets which we deem Holy Relics; using Your lip balm without permission, You none the wiser; committing sinful acts in the comfort of your own bedroom, only for You to return, oblivious. We apologise for that nagging paranoia, demanding You to turn around, to catch a glimpse of the eyes staring at You, but You not noticing us when we were camouflaged in the shadows. For stalking You and learning Your schedule. For hacking into all of Your devices and acquiring every little piece of information available from Your digital footprints.

But, You forgive us, yes?

Don't look so horrified, dushka. We left no trace, yes? No evidence. You said You have forgiven all of our transgressions. Think of this as a confession, nothing more. Besides, we never tampered with You belongings. They're all still with us. Just like you will.

You are our oxygen. Without You, we can't breathe. Our lungs suffocate without Your natural scent to fill them, to keep us alive. Our eyes go blind with time without the sight of Your face, Your body. We can't hear anything other than Your voice — our ears tune out any frequencies and wavelengths that don't leave those pretty little lips, yet wage civil war amongst ourselves, spitting curses that cut like knives and pierce like bullets. And Your lips. And Your eyes. And Your eyebrows, hair, hands, neck, God — everything.

You won't abandon us, yes? You wouldn't abandon us, would you, мое сокровище? You are our treasure. I treasure you — all of us do: your pretty little lips, that speak in the softest of tones to us; those eyes that stare in slight fright, yet crinkle in as genuine of a smile as you can manage; those eyebrows that furrow over your bright eyes in the subtlest of frowns, in sorrow or frustration, maybe vexation — and that's just your face. What about your hair? Your hands? Your neck? Your body? What is there not to treasure?

Боже мой, Bozhe moy, my God. Oh God, it's as if an angel has descended and granted us salvation, a merciful deity absolving us of our sins and cleansing our soul. And both the angel and deity are You — working in perfect sync, so benevolent and forgiving, taking pity on a creature so pitiful, so ruined, so unfixable.

We can't remember what some of those was.

Those puzzle pieces, of course.

Zakhaev’s torture stole some of the pieces to the jigsaw, and the puzzle won't ever be solved. We ourselves interrogate, torture, eliminate, kill. Sometimes we dissociate. Other times I am completely in control. Yet all the time, we are committing sins, sins, sins.

And You forgive them. Forgive us.

Every prayer is us praying for you, to you, about you. And each one concludes with your sacred name, whispered in hushed tones as the syllables are too precious to utter out loud.

Poor, poor thing. You probably didn't even know what you were signing up for, did you? You probably intended to be charitable. Sympathetic. And you were, sweet one.

But you were naive to have assumed that we wouldn't become possessive of you like an unwanted stay mutt of its only bone. So innocent — perhaps stupid — but we like to think that you were misguided in your intentions, yet guided by some God.

An ignorant God? If You're the God to worship, then are You an ignorant one? An innocent, naive, and unconditionally loving one? Yet, one that, despite Their obliviousness, can knowingly soothe with a simple string of words? With a caress?

What an oxymoron. It suits You. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Aw. Are those tears, dushka? Let's wipe them, hmm? Kiss it better, yes? You will like our lips on you.

Don't scream. Don't hurt those vocal cords. We like the sound of your voice. We want you to talk.

There there, little one. You look beautiful when you cry, but you look most beautiful when you're smiling. Smile, hm? Do it for us. Your Nikto.

You don't have to be afraid, you know. Don't be afraid, krasotka. We love you.

Here, put your hand on our chest. Feel how our heart is beating? It beats only for you.

Our abdomen, our stomach. You feel how toned that is, yes? You feel the muscle?

What about our biceps? The strength in our forearms? They're all for you. We're all yours, yours yours yours.

Our blood looks good on you, dushka. The blood really accentuates your nails. But please, stop. Stop.

You don't have to scratch us, or scream. You know that none of that will change anything. You know that we will love you, even if you tell us you hate us. It's too late.

Get used to touching us, yes? What's left of us, anyways. Yes, our body won't be the most appealing, or the handsomest, but it's all for you. Every inch. All for you — just like how you are all ours.

You're ours, just as much as we belong to you. You could stab us with a knife and we'd smile. You could shoot us with a gun point-blank in the head and we'd thank you. What an honour it would be to live with you by your side, or die by your side. We're a dead man either way. Your dead man. Your Nikto.

You underestimated my capacity for violence. Or were perhaps too naive to understand it.

That's okay. Put your hand on my face. Just like that. See? Nothing to fear. It's just us. Your Nikto.

I can feel it shaking. Why do you shake so much, hm? Don't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of. You should know there's nothing to be afraid of. After all, you were fearless when it came to speaking to me, and weren't afraid to reach out to us. Surely you don't want to abandon us now?

That's too bad. You won't abandon us. We won't let you.

I'm crazy: I don't think I need to repeat it, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy.

I am already crazy yes but it is You who drives me to insanity do You know that? Why do You deny? Do not deny us this yes? Yes You do know that it is You who makes me mad beyond return of course You do You've always known it and You know it now little one You're just pretending feigning ignorance with surprise in Your eyes. Why pretend that it was all a pretense? Your kindness? Your sympathy? Your company? It was not pretense to us no it was everything. Everything we could have hoped for prayed for and lived for.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

You drive me crazy.

So crazy.

So, so crazy, baby.

Craaazyyy. Crazy crazy crazy!

You have made us the craziest we have ever been from the moment we met Your eyes and will be forever driven crazier with Your around from the day You die. And that won't be anytime now, my treasure. We will treasure You, take care of You, keep You safe. You will want for nothing, we can assure You — nothing, nobody, no one. Only Nikto. Nobody will ever look at You, as their eyeballs will be gouged out for having the audacity to spare a glance at the pinnacle of perfection. And nobody will ever want You, nobody will taint that precious skin with unworthy fingers, as anyone who tries will have them broken have their bones crushed to dust their skin muscles and tendons ripped to ribbons until there is no body left.

Nobody will ever look at You. Only Nikto. Us. Forever, and ever, and ever and ever and ever we will have our eyes on You until our retinas dissolve and our pupils can no longer absorb light and we become blind and crippled, crying, crying crying crying for You, crying only for You. You crying out for us until Your voice is hoarse from moaning, until our name becomes a prayer just as much as Yours is to us.

We love You. Think of nobody. Only Nikto. Only of Nikto. Only for and against Nikto. We will live for You. We do already, do you understand? We're yours. Yours. Yours yours yours yours yours yours to have yours to hit yours to scratch with those nails yours to scream at yours yours yours yours yours. Yours. Yours! Yours!

Yours!

Y/N.

I'm crazy: I don't think I needed to say, yes?

I know it. We know it. Everyone else knows it. You should have known it.

And if you didn't know it, then You will know it.

Because You drive me crazy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/Ns

Really really really Really REALLY had doubts about posting this and thought that no one would like it. I felt inspired and happy and proud of myself when I was almost finished but it took me days to conclude the work since I was second-guessing whether or not I should post this after all. Kind of embarrassed, in all honesty, but I decided to post it in the end since I quite like it. :'>

I just wanted to highlight your, @//connorsui, lovely, lovely words when you reblogged my last Nikto post 😭😭😭💘💘💘. To receive not only some compliments, but your thoughts on my headcanons AND analysis *AND* your evaluation of my post was so, SO heartwarming to wake up to in the morning 🥹🥹🥹💓💓💓, especially when it was so long!!! Like, what?!! 😢😢😢😢😢😿😿😿😿😿😭😭😭😭😭💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖💖✨✨✨✨✨

Thank you so so so SO much for your positive feedback !!! I've read it over four times by now. O really appreciated and still appreciate it. ☺️💞🫶💖✨✨💕💕

(I also want to kiss Nikto's scarred face ☹️☹️☹️ just wordless acts of intimacy where words aren't necessary and just to show the man some affection, regardless of how he looks 😟💝 need that ugly traumatised Russian man SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭)

Inspiration for this gained from:

thisvvv song!!! and Chapter 7 in Metro 2035 lol,, when Artyom was drunk and disorientated I thought it was written really REALLY well and I wanted to incorporate his meaningless drivel into this.

Nikto's voicelines and his various voices/sporadic changes in character

the Fandom Wiki

my own headcanons lol 😋

From fluff this whatever the fuck this is!!!!!!!!!! Hope you enjoyed 💗💗

[love-belle]

always, evermore, even after and still !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they get married and it's the happiest day for everyone.

or

for when you finally find your happily ever after. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hope u like this!!! i love you so much, thank you for reading <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 2,826,998 others

vogue charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n tie the knot in a grand yet intimate ceremony held at their villa in monte carlo.

the bride wore a valentino couture gown complete with a sprawling train and platform heels while the groom sported a classic black tuxedo. y/n’s childhood best friend, lily muni he, served as the maid of honour, whereas her close friends, carmen mundt, kika gomes and heidi berger were bridesmaids. on the groom's side, lorenzo leclerc, his brother was the best man along while his younger brother, arthur and his friend circle, which included lando norris, pierre gasly, carlos sainz and alex albon were the groomsmen. the guest list included many notable presences such as sebastian vettel, toto wolff, taylor swift, zendaya, timothée chalamet, harry styles and many more.

the couple’s first dance was to the song "love letter from the sea to the shore" performed by delaney bailey followed by "it's nice to have a friend" by taylor swift and "sweet creature" by harry styles.

tap the link in our bio to get a look inside their wedding held at their stunning villa in monaco.

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram stories ꒱

yourusername added to their instagram stories

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 796,528 others

landonorris my two best friends got married and i'm about to make it everybody's problem. congratulations, you horny motherfuckers. don't remember much of last night but as i'm sitting in a cafe in berlin, i know it ruled. here's to a lifetime of happiness, love and blessings and may this marriage not end in a divorce (y/n, lily still has that taxi driver on speed dial, say the word and we'll help you run away)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

8,638 comments

username stfu im gonna cry

username i feel like a proud parent omg

username we've come so far 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username not lando violating charles on his own wedding post 💀💀💀

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them so much my lord

lilymhe you can still escape just sayin yourusername

-> yourusername i'll keep that in mind, thank you 💋

-> charles_leclerc is it too late to get a divorce

-> yourusername shut up you literally (and legally) signed up for this

username are we gonna ignore that fact that the wedding was in monte carlo and lando's in berlin

-> username how the FUCK did that happen

-> username i just know that the party was WILD

username "may this marriage not end in a divorce" PLS 💀💀💀

username the photos ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username im living for the wedding content we're getting from like half the grid

maxverstappen1 berlin is nice

-> landonorris i know right?

-> username NOT MAX BEING IN BERLIN TOO WTF HAPPENED LAST NIGHT

username the event of the century 🔥🔥🔥

username THEY LOOK SO AMAZING WHATCTHRBUCJ

username in love with these

username god i need a life like this ://

charles_leclerc at least i had a gf and now i have a wife (thanks for the photos but i'm not paying you)

-> landonorris that's a fucked up thing to say to me (i literally hate you so much)

username fuck all the love stories except theirs

username my heart ://

username they SCREAM old money

-> username OMG THAT'S SO REAL

yourusername thank you for these pictures. we love you. take the train back to monte carlo rn or i am giving your gift to george. and thanks for the driver information, will keep that in mind definitely.

-> landonorris anytime. i love you both i guess. DON'T YOU DARE and of course, happy to help.

-> charles_leclerc DELETE THAT NUMBER RIGHT NOW

username charles has been married for one (singular) day and he's already fighting for his life 💀💀💀💀💀

username i love this friend group so much ❤️

username THEY BOTH ATE OMG

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 892,728 others

lilymhe in my head, we're still those teen girls who planned out their wedding days with so much enthusiasm and with so much detail that it would've put these planners and binders to shame. it's kinda hard to believe that my best friend is now married but honestly, y/n/n, i couldn't be more happy for you. you're my best friend and i love you so much. thank you for being just a call away, always. here's to charles (barf) and y/n (❤️)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,926 comments

username SHUT UP IM CRYING

username platonic soulmates ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

username she's so pretty what the fuck

username Y/N ATE

carmenmmundt the prettiest bride 💕

*liked by lilymhe*

username two pretty best friends 🔥🔥🔥

username y/n looks so pretty what thebfuck omg im gonna scream

username my favs ://

username nah cus lily and y/n literally have my heart like they're my fav pair of best friends

charles_leclerc i remember when you threatened me

-> lilymhe good. remember it for the rest of your life.

-> charles_leclerc y/n she's doing that thing again yourusername

-> yourusername lily

-> lilymhe sorry

-> username NAH NOT CHARLES SNITCHING ON LILY

username she slayed so hard

username the barf and the ❤️ spoke VOLUMES

username im gonna cry they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i wish i had a best friend like lily ://

alex_albon i never get captions like this

-> lilymhe this isn't about you

-> yourusername yeah alex this isn't about you

username y/n's childhood best friend being her maid of honour 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username in love with these two

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

yourusername i love you SO fucking much

-> lilymhe i love you so much more

yourusername i'll love you always thank you for everything ❤️‍🩹

-> lilymhe you're my best friend, always here for you and your loser ass boyfriend

-> charles_leclerc I'M HER HUSBAND

-> lilymhe okay and??? she can get another one

-> username PLEASE OH MY GOD

username i adore their friendship tf

username don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo i had one (1) job and as you can see, i took it very seriously. mr and mrs. leclerc-y/l/n, everybody 💒🍧💐

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,682 comments

username LECLERC-Y/L/NS

username THEY'RE SO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them sm what the fuck

username my parents ❤️🫶🏼

username LOVING THE WEDDING CONTENT WE'RE BRING FED RN

username she looks so pretty omg ☹️☹️☹️

maxverstappen1 why are you acting like your ass isn't in berlin with us?

-> danielricciardo THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET YOU SNITCH

username WHAT THEBFUCJ HAPPENED LAST NIGJT 💀💀💀💀💀 why are they in berlin

-> username oh the night was wildin 🔥🔥🔥

username daniel.jpg but on main

username love them sm

username SO HAPPY FOR THEM AHSHDHSJDJBS

username living for this content

landonorris berlin kinda cool

*liked by danielricciardo*

username WHY are they in berlin

-> username no it's HOW are they in berlin

username no bc i feel like such a proud mom like i watched go from "hiii/hiiiiiii" to "hehehehe i do/shut up charles, i do"

-> username that's what i call GROWTH

username her dresses ate omg

username i know daniel's not getting paid for shit

username im so ://

charles_leclerc lovely photos mate

-> danielricciardo so will you pay me?

-> charles_leclerc no

username AHHHSHDHDHDHXHXJDJDF

username gonna sob some more

username honestly crying tears rn

yourusername we love you daniel 🫶🏼 (get your ass back to monaco i am NOT kidding)

-> danielricciardo love you guys (omg we're on our way stop you scare me sometimes)

username IM NOT NORMAL ABT THIS

username fav couple

username thank u to daniel for these

-> username doing god's word fr

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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yourusername words cannot express how much i love you. every single time i think that this is it, i cannot possibly love you more than i do, i'm surprised by myself because i do. i really do. i fall in love with you more and more every single day and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life showing you that. i loved you when you first told me that you really liked my smile and i loved you when you told me you hoped i lived nearer to you and then asked me to move in. i loved you when you took the time to get to know me and i loved you when you said that i was it for you and i will love you when our hair is turning gray and we're gonna look back and smile and fall in love even more. they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes i swear. i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it. here's to my forever love, my everything, my world. i love you ❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

17,527 comments

username GOODNIGHT

username WHAT THR FUCK

username im gonna sob this is so

username they're married 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username people say soulmates we say y/n and charles

username sliding down the door fr this is INSANE

charlotte2304 all my love to you both 💓

*liked by yourusername*

username HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL LIKE

username they're MY parents

username the caption took my heart out and squeezed it

username hahahahaha!!!!! i am NOT okay!!!!!!! what the fuck is up with that caption

sebastianvettel 💐💕

*liked by yourusername*

username he's so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username "i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it" WHEN WILL IT BE ME

username "they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes" me and who lol (i am screaming crying shaking)

username no bc i too deserve someone like this ://

username it's giving timeless by taylor swift

*liked by yourusername*

username they're so taylor swift coded

username GOD ME WHEN

username gonna take a toaster bath brb 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

username don't test me istg

carla.brocker my heart 😭🩷

*liked by yourusername*

arthur_leclerc sister-in-law 💒🩷

*liked by yourusername*

username IM GONNA SCREAM WHAT THE FUXK

username MY parents 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username he's so husband coded ❤️‍🩹

username microwaving a spoon brb

charles_leclerc i love you so much it's unbelievable just how much

-> yourusername i adore you and every part of you

charles_leclerc my forever love ❤️ cannot wait to grow old with you

-> yourusername forever has never sounded so good ❤️

username gonna be thinking abt this for the rest of my life just so u know

username they're setting the standards so high i can't do it anymore what the fuck

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,826,318 others

charles_leclerc i honestly don't know what to say. you're my biggest dream, my wife and now that i'm saying it, it sounds so surreal. i have waiting been an entire lifetime to say these words and the fact that it's you in this lifetime (and all the others), is just amazing. i wish i had known you sooner, so that i wouldn't have to spend all those years looking for love in places where it couldn't possibly be. my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad. i hope that one day, when we're old and aged and have seen a thousand sunsets, you ask me if i love you and my answer will forevermore will be always, evermore, even after and still.

tagged yourusername

16,628 comments

username I CANNOT DO THIS RN

username everyone stfu im gonna cry

username english lang is so weird bc u say true love and it translates to y/n and charles

username nah the bar is too high atp im giving up

username SHE'S SO PRETTY MA GAWD

username the fact that they're now the leclerc-y/l/ns 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lewishamilton so happy for you both 💐💒

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username "my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad" why am i crying.

username they're the blueprint for all love stories from now on btw

username I LOBE THEM SO MUVH WHAT GHE FUCK THEY'RE MU PARENTS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 😭 😭 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

usernames no bc the way all the photos are of random moments and this leads me to believe that charles just whips out his camera whenever y/n is just There and now im crying again

-> username he's just like us fr

-> username i too would play paparazzi for y/n is given the chance he's not the only one ://

carla.brocker coolest sister in law (best friend) 🫶🏼

-> yourusername carla i love you 😭

username still in disbelief they r married tbh

username i feel like we watched them grow up im so emotional 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username she's so pretty i could sob

username why did u think that it was okay for u to post this.

username i am not okay

lorenzotl 🤍💐

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username SHE'S SO PRETTY

username charles won at life fr

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username caption called me single and lonely in 26836282727 languages 💔💔💔💔💔

username bro woke up and chose to destroy shakespeare with that caption 💀💀💀

landonorris loved the wedding 👍 i woke up in berlin

-> charles_leclerc the wedding was in monaco???

-> maxverstappen1 i know

-> danielricciardo we obviously had some ideas and now i have an ugly tattoo and there's a ring pop on my finger

-> landonorris max has one too

-> charles_leclerc YOU MARRIED MAX

-> danielricciardo NO

-> maxverstappen1 NO

-> yourusername this is hilarious

username i need to see more pictures from the wedding I NEED TO

username i love my wife (i am delusional)

yourusername i have already loved you for a thousand years ❤️

-> charles_leclerc here's to a thousand more ❤️

yourusername i love you so much like you're my person and i just love you so fucking much :/

-> charles_leclerc i love you so much more mon chéri

username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username IM SO AHJHSJSHDHDJSKDJD

username im gonna cry brb

[asumofwords]

Watercress

Warnings: She/her pronouns. Smallfolk OC, mentions of death and war, descriptions of injury and blood, slowburn. Tags will be added as the fic goes along.

Pairings: Aemond x She/Her

Summary: Raised in the Riverlands, near the shadow of Harrenhal, her life was one of endless toil and quiet resilience. Every day was the same—scraping together food, tending to the ill, and surviving the harsh realities of a land marked by struggle. But when war came, it brought horrors beyond anything she could have imagined. The skies blazed with fury, the waters of the Gods Eye churned with the echoes of battle, and then—just as suddenly as it began—the world grew eerily quiet. She believed the worst was over. That was, until a fateful discovery in the woods shattered her fragile peace and set her on a path she never could have foreseen.

Notes: Hello there my sweet angels! Thank you so much for your patience in me writing this. It has been such a long time since I have written anything and I am so excited to finally have a burst of energy (and the inspiration) to do it! As I'm writing this I'm like, is this similar to Lighthouse? And you know what, potentially? Lmaoooo. I'm not sure how many chapters this bad boy is going to be, but it will be a miniseries hehe. If you want to be tagged in the taglist, let me know, otherwise I hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 1: Broken

Still and brittle air. A body of water that had rippled with anger, now calm and without falsely made tides. In the woods beside the ever stretching lake, there was food to be found, herbs to be foraged, and animals to be hunted. What she hadn’t accounted for was the discovery of a man.

As she moved through the nearby woodlands, her eyes diligently scanned the forest floor for edible plants to gather and bring home. She followed a slender stream that wound its way like a vein through the lush greenery. Below her, she spotted some watercress and knelt down to collect it.

The plant was easy to identify, its round, dark green leaves gleaming with a healthy shine, growing in plump clusters that resembled clover. A common enough find, watercress was versatile—its peppery flavour could be enjoyed raw or cooked, adding a subtle kick to various dishes.

With gentle precision, she cut the stems at their base using her blade, then placed the watercress into the small basket she held at her hip. The air filled with a faint peppery scent as her fingers began to feel the familiar tackiness from the leaves. She took care not to harvest too much, arranging the watercress atop the rest of her foraged goods before continuing along the well-worn path toward the lake. Beneath the cloth in her basket lay a worn net, neatly folded, its ends weighted by sinkers like the delicate strands of a spider's web.

A lot of trouble the lake had seen in the few days past. Troubles from highborn nobles who cared naught about the smallfolk who outnumber them. But now that it was still, it was almost eerie from how so much chaos can suddenly halt in its tracks from the actions of just two; how much destruction just even one could make. 

The soft chirping of birds echoed through the gaps between the trees, mingling with the gentle creaking of branches swaying in the breeze. As she neared the shore, the bushes and trees grew sparser, revealing the familiar lake’s edge. Stones of varying sizes scattered the bank, and the water lay calm, a deep shade of blue.

Her cottage was tucked behind her, deeper within the woods from where she had come. It was close enough to the village—a few hours walk—but far enough that few ventured to this secluded corner of the lake. There was an unspoken respect for the boundaries each had claimed, and everyone faithfully followed their familiar, ancestral paths.

Though autumn rapidly approached, and the nipping of the cold chilled her through her skirts, the woman still stripped her feet of her shoes and stockings, pulling up her skirts and apron to knot at the side, leaving her legs bare to the open air. 

With a swift flourish, she pulled the net from the basket and waded into the lake until the water reached her knees, disregarding the cold that bit at her skin. In the frigid depths, her feet slid over and between the rocks beneath, occasionally unsettling her balance and sending small ripples across the surface.

She stood motionless for a time, waiting for the disturbed fish to be lulled back into a false sense of safety. Once the water had settled, she cast her net, its pointed corners spreading like the limbs of an octopus before sinking below the surface. She gripped the long rope attached to the center and began to drag the net back toward her.

At first, the net yielded only a few stray leaves and a couple of twigs. Undeterred, she carefully ensured that the net was untangled before tossing it back into the water. Again, she pulled it in quickly, only to find the same meager catch. She repeated the process until her toes had grown numb and a dull ache crept up her shins from the cold.

Moving to a new spot, she threw the net once more, watching the weights sink swiftly as she pulled it in. This time, there was resistance.

The water rippled and splashed as she hauled the net up, revealing three small fish trapped inside. Their silvery bodies thrashed side to side, desperately trying to escape. With swift, steady steps, she walked back to the shore and dropped the net onto the dirt bank, watching the fish flop and struggle. Taking out her hunting knife, she carefully avoided cutting the rope as she held each fish down, driving the blade into their heads. The frantic thrashing slowed to a dull twitch, and then ceased altogether. She slit their bellies open, removed the guts, and flung them into the water, hoping to attract more fish—or perhaps even larger ones.

She placed them in the basket, but their sizes were nothing extraordinary. She thought that she could dry some for later, store them to eat dried or to soak in a stew with a thick bread. And though the coldness was beginning to get to her, she continued, walking straight back into the water to throw her net back in. 

Casting the net out far and pulling it back in, she managed to get four more fish which she killed, gutted and placed in the basket beside the other. Though not greedy, she knew that the winter months would soon be upon her and it was best to be prepared with an ample store of dried fish and foods, even more-so now after the war had ravaged so much of the Seven Kingdoms. She decided that if she was to have ten, she would be able to eat well that evening as well as have a fair stash to have ready whenever needed. 

Once more she stepped out into the water, though this time daring to wade deeper, the water coming to her mid thigh, the bottoms of her skirts and apron slowly became saturated, the weight pulling her body down. 

Another cast of the net, she watched as the weights sunk into the dark depths, the sun bleached rope disappearing into the lake before she began to pull at the rope, only this time the tension of the rope pulled taught and the net became stuck. 

With a huff, she blew a stray strand of hair from her face and yanked on the net, trying to dislodge it from whatever it had snagged on—a branch or perhaps a rock. But the net wouldn’t budge, and her frustration grew. She pulled harder, and the net finally came free, but the force sent her stumbling backward, her foot slipping into a small dip in the lakebed. Her hips plunged into the cold water.

"Fuck." she hissed as the icy water soaked her gown up to her waist.

In a surge of anger, she wrenched the net toward her, only to find her frustration deepening when she saw a rip in the netting. The frayed rope left a gaping hole, one that would take considerable time to mend—or perhaps force her to start anew.

“Fucking cunt.” She flung the net back to shore, the weights making a wet thud on the soil, as she looked to where the her net had got caught. 

With her dress already soaked, she made no quarrels with walking deeper, the icy lake now coming up to her chest as she tried to peer down into the dark depths to see what her net had gotten snagged on. Why she looked, she did not know. Perhaps to curse out whatever rock or object had ruined her perfectly fine net. At the very least she had caught enough fish to last her until she could mend the torn net, or start anew. Gods forbid she had to walk to a nearby town to buy one.

With careful feet she waded in the water, reaching her toes out first in search of the sunken object. Hands balancing her atop the waters surface, she reached further forward in search. Her toes touched small rocks, their broken edges skating against the sides or sole of her foot-- but still it was not what had ruined her net. There were many rocks in the lake, she knew this, the fishermen who had boats on the lake and drew trade knew this, but she frequented this spot enough to know that there was something new there that shouldn’t be.

Rough and smooth all at once she felt it, something before her nestled between boulders. As her toe searched the foreign object, a sharp sting radiated up from them. She hissed, pulling her foot backwards, wondering if there was something new within the lake that could swallow her whole. Her curiosity took over. Tentatively, she pushed her foot out again, finding the smooth yet bumpy object that seemed to be colder than the water itself. The more she touched it, the more she realised that it was not what she had thought at all. In fact, she was surprised to come to the conclusion that it was manmade. 

With her dress already soaked, she dipped her arm into the water, shoulder and breast dipping beneath the surface halting her breath as her fingers sought out what her toes had found. Cool metal met her hand, her digits wrapping around a cylinder shape, the feeling of spirals beneath. With all her might she pulled it, the weight of what she held making her strain, but as she lifted it she was able to see the glinting of steel beneath the water as it got closer to the surface. 

The sword hilt was black and gold, a sort of spiral shape at the top, its cross guards gold and in the shape of a head, a bird perhaps? Or a dragon? It was long and heavy, and just when she thought the rest of it would come to the surface, she was wrong. It was far too large and too heavy for her to pull it up out of the water. Stepping back carefully with the new found object in hand, she dragged it behind her, the point dragging over rocks and sediment alike until finally she was back on the shore. 

The make of the sword told her that it was worth its weight in gold, and even had gold upon it to prove her observations further. It would have belonged to a nobleman, or perhaps even a knight, though the closer the looked at it, the more features she could see that resembled symbolism of House Targaryen. 

So it was one of theirs, then. 

She let the sword drop to the sand, hands on her hips as she looked at both her basket full of food and fish, the broken net, and finally to the sword. The sword would be worth much, but she would have to travel far to sell it to anyone with the coin to buy it. But then comes the trouble of travelling with such a large, and if she was correct in what she thought it was, recognisable item. It would risk raiders, or worse, some overzealous loyalist who deigned her a thief and cut off her hands. 

Eyes drifting behind her towards the lake, she wondered what had happened those days past. 

She remembered the sound, the ear piercing shrieks from the sky, heat of fire, the smell of smoke and crashing of water. But she had run as fast as she would once she saw the great green beast fly overhead.

Nothing good ever came to the Riverlands when She was near.

Eventually though, having nowhere else to go, the woman had returned in the night, hidden amongst the forest and trees, listening for the sounds of roaring and flame which had ceased quickly as it echoed around the lake. And when she arrived back to the lake, it was quiet once more.

The dance of the two dragons above Gods Eye was no more, and she could finally go back to living her life; uninterrupted. 

She scanned the shoreline surrounding, eyes narrowing in the distance to see if she saw any signs of the dragons. Perhaps they had crawled out from the lake on the other side and had made their way towards her end? But the lake was so large and so deep, that none could even see to the other side.

Turning to pick up her basket and the sword again she was halted by the flickering of something shiny in the distance, the setting sun reflecting off of metal amongst tree root and rock. She wondered briefly if it was going to be another sword, or perhaps a helm. That would be easier to sell at the nearby town; a smith would certainly pay handsomely to melt down the steel and turn it into whatever wares he desired. She kicked soil over the blade and placed the basket full of greens and fish atop the hilt, covering the gold and reflective surface entirely before making her way towards the flickering light. 

Her dress pulled down on her shoulders heavily, water dripping from the hem with each step as a chill rose upon her flesh. But something compelled her further, despite all other instincts within, she pushed on, making her way towards the glinting metal which snaked along the rocky shore. The closer she got, the more she recognised that it was chains, draped and shining in the sun, some covered in dirt the rest leading towards the water. 

She thought of the many things she could do with the chains, what their worth could be, and whether or not it was worth going further to collect them, and yet still she persisted, feet muddy and wet, a slight sting from where the blade of the sword had cut at her toes.

She bent down to gaze upon them, strong, good quality steel it seemed. They had not tarnished, nor were their many marks upon them. The chain links were half the length of her arm and triple the width, its weight likely more than her own. They were far too large for her to carry alone.

A breeze rolled through the forest and across the water, sending goosebumps to rise over her body with a shiver. It was getting dark, she was drenched, and the best option was to leave the larger find behind and come back for it on the morrow, perhaps with a plan on how she would move the chain from water, to shore, to forest, to door. 

She turned to face the forest and was greeted with evidence of the destruction dragons could inflict. Trees older than her grandmother had ever been, their trunks as wide as horses, split down the centre and broken from the impact of a large body. Further within she could see the singed tree tops, where ash that had settled down atop the canopy. The eeriness of a broken forest and a broken realm, far too close to home.

And yet she was drawn to it, this destruction. It was unlike anything she had witnessed before; she was pulled forward. Feet crunching on the pine floor, the crunch of her steps deafening in comparison to how quiet it was amongst the carnage. The animals had not yet returned, the ones that had once been there dead, silent. 

Even with the trees that had somehow managed to survive, to stand tall despite the terror that had reigned above them, their trunks and leaves were covered in the evidence of what was. Ash, streaked each surface, and with a curious hand she place it atop the bark of a tree, brushing her finger along the ridges of the wood, watching as they turned grey. A quick rub of forefinger and pointer together made the ash smear, and as she stood by that tree, taking in the scene before her, her eyes focused upon a darkness behind the tree that should not have been there. 

Something that was not born of ash nor bark nor fur. 

Something human. 

Uncertainly she took a step around the tree to see the beginning of a boot, a leathered boot at that. And attached to it a leg, and then hips, and finally;

A man. 

Dressed head to toe in dark leather, now grey with ash, the man lay on his side. Her heart raced in her chest, though she had seen the dead before, this time was different. This time it was not a sick merchant, nor a child who had gotten the winter fever. It was not her father dying at the hands of a drunken fight, blood trickling from his mouth. 

This was one of them. 

Long silver hair lay knotted across the mans face, ash streaking the pearlescent tresses grey. His skin much the same, though the parlour was similar to a corpse; so pale, so almost blue that she could have mistaken him for one of Harrenhal’s ghosts.

Was he the man who had slaughtered the Strong family at Harrenhal?

Or was he the one who commanded the brutal rape and murders of those who opposed the Blackwoods? 

Did it matter? She thought to herself, They were all the same.

The leg she had discovered was bent at an unnatural angle, the shin snapped in two, broken in a way that if he had lived he would have been crippled for the rest of his days. The rest of his body did not fair well either, tears in his leather tunic and breeches given way to an attack, or a fall, or Gods knew what else. The famed silver hair which obscured his face from view was red at his skull, slowly seeping into a rust colour where blood had dried from a wound. 

Bare toes stood beside the pale mans head as she dipped to her knees, her wet dress sticking to the ash and pine coated floor. She observed him for a time, admiring the stitchwork of the tunic he wore, noting that it would likely be-- despite its conditions-- the nicest thing she could own. But she was no grave robber, and she had no desire to be haunted by his spirit after desecrating his corpse. 

Her curiosity however won out, and with an unsteady hand, unsure whether it be from the cold or the man, she reached forth to brush the blood crusted hair away from his face.

Despite its appearance, ash, blood and leaves tangled in the locks, his hair was as soft as silk as she brushed it with her hands. The skin of his ear was cold to the touch. She swept the tangled heap away from his brow and cheek, revealing a bruised and cut cheek, though that was not what had made her breath skip in her chest. 

The space where his eye should have been was empty, though not from this battle, but from one many years ago she supposed, the skin of the brow and cheek scarred deeply down his face. She could see to the back of where his eye would have once sat, the flesh darkened and scarred.

Aemond One-Eye.

Following the scar on his cheek, she looked to his lips, where dried blood had crusted at its opening and down his other cheek to the forest floor. His nose, aquiline and strong had bled too, as did his ears from what she would see, and through the centre of his face a cut sliced through the bridge where bruising and bone were visible. 

It was weird, to sit so close to a corpse of royalty, and she were sure that if he were alive he would have stuck her for daring to even touch him. For daring to even touch his pure blood, and his pure hair, and his purer skin. And this thought alone made her touch him all the more, tracing curious fingers across his cheek, his nose, the scar running through his cheek, and down to his neck, where his tunic had been torn and the pale expanse of his neck was visible. 

Her finger trailed down past his jaw, underneath it, wondering what in the world separated the two of them. They died just like everyone else. Whether that be in the birthing bed, in cups of ale, or fighting one another. What made the Targaryens so far removed from her? Besides their silver hair, their lilac eyes and their dragons, they were merely men, and all men died.

The King was proof of this.

A faint fluttering beneath her fingers made her lift her hand in shock, her digits hovering over the mans face as she looked at him in disbelief. 

He couldn’t…

She leant down, dipping her ear beside his lip as she rested a hand against his ribs. 

And there it was, a rattling breath so weak, so quiet, that had his lips not been pressed against her ear she would not have heard it. 

He was alive.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist: Please ask if you would like to be added to the taglist

@thewriterthatghostedyou @sepherinaspoppies @insufferablelust @osferthswifey @persephonerinyes @ihadlife @aemondsfavouritebastard @thaisthedreamer

[https-furina]

okay okay so, since im already on the angst train and i want to hurt myself today, hear me out:

you and your lover are out doing wtv and you're ambushed and then, naturally, you guys fight the enemies right?

okay so you get hurt and youre losing a lot of blood and your lover realizes this and is completely heartbroken bc you dont have much time, the wound is deep

so um yeah the reader dies in their lover's arms basically, with albedo, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao and kaeya

theres so many characters im curious abt so please take your time mwah

(ps: i will not pay anyone's therapy okay i need it myself, my condolaences for hurting you)

✎ i wasn't ready to say goodbye [various men - part one]

ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader

content: do i need to say angst? i'm so sorry. major death + blood warnings. implied that reader can handle a weapon in most of them - unspecified if reader is a vision holder. hurt with absolutely no comfort. semi-spoilers for scaramouche/wanderer's story (end of the sumeru archon quests.)

notes: we added aether last second in the discord bc we summoned aki ( @kazumist - aly wanted you tagged ) some of them are awful and ooc i'm so sorry - officially managed this in just over 24 hours!

albedo treasures you more than he cares to admit verbally. it shows in all of his acts of love through physical means, lingering touches and making sure you're warm whenever you visit him on dragonspine. he hates you visiting him as much as he loves you - it's merely because it puts you in extreme danger every time. there's the temperatures, the wildlife, the lack of oxygen and of course, there's the monsters lurking around every corner of the inhabited mountain.

as the chief alchemist for the knights of favonius, there's always a warrant for albedo's life one way or another. the fatui are eager to stop his research - or steal it, maybe both.

there's a silence except for the howling winds that circle the snowy mountain. you're struggling to breathe, to get the sharp air into your lungs as you lowered your sword slowly. not far away, your boyfriend is finishing off the final fatui soldier, blood splattering onto his sleeve before he turns to face you. is it just you or does albedo look even more beautiful right now? you furrow your brows in confusion. albedo looks like he's seen a ghost, colour flushing from his face when he rushes forward. your knees give way under you and he barely manages to catch you in his arms, kneeling as he lets you lay against him. "bedo, love?" you mumble, unsure as to what's happening. you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears, your heart is beating whilst the adrenaline still pumps through your body. albedo hushes you softly, pupils dilated when he looks at your wound. "h-how do you feel?" his voice cracks when he asks the question, a gloved hand applying pressure to your side. you wince, the adrenaline is starting to fade and you feel faint. there's a cold sweat glistening on your forehead when you look down at where albedo's hand is, seeing the blood seep through your clothing. it's albedo's turn to watch your expression drop, your world starting to spin and mix together when the adrenaline is gone and you're aware of what happened. it feels as if there's a lump in your throat but when you try to cough it up, only blood spills in a small trickle out of your mouth. "love-" there's another cough, the blood is running down your jaw as albedo's hands start to shake. he has no means of saving you out here, you're nowhere near camp and he can't leave you here while he gets help, "i want to go home..." your voice is weak, trailing off and albedo isn't sure if he should let the tears brinking his ocean coloured eyes fall as your breaths become raspy. chapped lips open and close, trying to find the words to reply to you but all he can muster is a weak "we're going home, dear" when your chest ceases to rise again. his breathing is jagged, clutching you close to him as if you’ll disappear for good when he lets go.

aether clings to you like ivy to a brick building. you give him hope in this search for his twin sister - one he's beginning to think is failing, day by day. you reassure him, that bright smile and sparkling eyes setting him on the right path. he's certain he would have gave up ages ago if it wasn't for you. but aether realises that he is constantly in danger. you love to adventure with, crossing the rolling hills of mondstadt and gawking at the grand mountain peaks of liyue that pierce through clouds.

it was only so long before he faced the repercussions for so willingly letting you travel with him, tearing his hope away in the blink of an eye.

"a-aether?" your voice is wavering, aether is confused. you've been travelling with him for so long now, what could possibly have scared you about some hilichurls? but he turns to face you, blade at the ready - ready to protect you. his eyes fall on the arrow lodged in your chest, your eyes wide in fear as you stare at him in panic. it was already too late to protect you, he'd failed himself. aether drops the sword in his hand, paying no mind to how it clutters on the gravel below you both when he's rushing forward to ease you to the ground. you're stable - awake but for how long? you're in shock, it's going to fade and you'll succumb to the blood reddening your attire. aether swears lightly under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes out of pure guilt; this was his fault, he hadn't protected you. now not only had he lost his sister, he'd lost his partner too. "it hurts to breathe," you mumble, your eyelashes are fluttering gently. the sun behind aether is starting to burn at your eyes, "aether why are you crying?" the blond isn't even aware of the salty tears that glisten in the sunlight when they roll down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and onto your shoulder where aether has laid your head onto his lap. it's comfortable, just as it always is. on days where you needed a break from walking, aether would often let you lay like this under a nearby tree. the thought makes aether choke out a sob. you smile sadly. "you can't leave me too," your hand cups his cheek, thumb weakly stroking at the tearstained skin when he hiccups, "no, this isn't fair." there isn't civilisation for days and he can't keep the arrow lodged in your chest nor does he have the means of stopping the blood if he pulls it out. aether is at a loss, unable to do anything while he watches the damage done to you internally take you from him beneath his own hands. "hey, you'll find her." you sound so certain, just as you always do and aether watches that positive spark die from your eyes when your breaths turn to rasps and he finds himself yelling at your body - at the sky, at anybody! he yells and yells, hoping someone listens to his cries for you to wake up. wake up, please.

heizou believes that of all the cases he's cracked, you're his favourite. he's read every line written into your skin as you age, the blemishes that litter your body and tell tales untold. you were his favourite mystery but now he had you like a stained glass window, beautiful and on display. although as a detective, heizou has destroyed many more lives than he is keen to admit. his suspects have families - lives, presumably before he has them in jail or worse, life sentence.

their families are hurt, angrily in denial that their own blood could commit such vile atrocities. heizou took something precious from them, what was stopping them from doing the same to him in an act of revenge?

heizou is more than used to his routine of coming home to you, being able to drown in the comfort of your arms after a long day of work. he's disturbed by the front door being open but albeit it's the peak of summer in inazuma, the humidity is drowning you, especially if you're not native to the islands. you're not quick to greet them when he steps in however, in fact he can't even see you. the house is untouched but the silence is deafening. "i'm home," heizou calls out, brows knitting together when he doesn't hear you chime his name back excitedly, "love?" the silence is killing heizou, it's unlike you at all but then he hears it, the meek sound of you calling his name out back. it sounds like you're in the bedroom and with a relieved smile, heizou finds himself heading to find you. but verdant eyes fall on the red smeared on the walls, staining the bedsheets and pooling around you. the relief is gone and his body is tense with dread as he drops the case files he'd been holding, quick to kneel with you and hug you close when you reach for him. "what happened?" his voice is panicked, he's barely breathing when he feels your blood soak through his clothes. he's searching you for your wound, shaking, "love, answer me." your chapped lips open but nothing seems to come out, you feel cold to the touch and all you can do is stare up at heizou. you knew the moment you was attacked that this was it for you but your biggest fear wasn't death, it was heizou. it was your witty detective, keen and full of intuition that he prides himself in; it was whether you'd see him one last time before your heart put in its final beat. heizou doesn't take your inability to speak lightly, letting out a flurry of curses that makes your brows furrow in distaste. you wasn't fond of him swearing when he got stressed but as you watch a tear fall down his cheek, you know you can't argue about his tongue anymore. he has every right to be mad when your bloody hand reaches up for him, the warm palm of his hand quick to grab your hand and coat his fingers. "i love you," you mumble, raspy and heizou is quick to shake his head - conserve your energy, "don't cry please." "you're not allowed to leave me," he chokes out, his lower lip tugged between his lips as his spare hand presses on your wound to try stop the bleeding. you wince but heizou doesn't lighten the pressure in fear, "i'll find who did this." your lips curl up at his words and heizou leans to press a kiss to your forehead, which is clammy and covered in a light sheen. by the time he pulls away, he's the only one left breathing in the room. heizou's shaking hands cup your cheeks, eyes darting around the room when he doesn't quite know what to do. he's used to this - the blood, the smell, the touch of a lifeless body but not when it's you. not when it's the love of his life. he wails in anguish, the taste in his mouth bitter when he swears revenge on whoever took you from him.

kazuha took his time warming up to you when you first met. you didn't blame him, you'd heard the tale of his late friend from captain beidou when you first came onboard the alcor. but your patience with him warmed his heart quicker than expected, leaving you inseparable as you travelled with the crew. even on land, kazuha was joined to your hip. he claimed he was there to protect you and that excuse expanded tenfold when you started dating.

he should have never taken his eyes off you, simply searching for firewood shouldn't have consequences like this.

when the last treasure hoarder falls limp to the dusty ground, kazuha finds himself enveloping you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your face for signs of pain. you're unresponsive, eyelashes shut but your breathing is shallow while your body fights the unexpected blood loss. "fuck," he whispers, much out of his comfort zone when he's trying to find exactly where your wound is. your blood is staining his skin, getting under his nails where it'll haunt and remind him of what happened for weeks, "y/n? love?" your brows knit as if you can hear him but he's unsure if you're just reacting to the pain. your body is most likely in shock and kazuha is running out of time before the shock fades and you're left in excruciating pain until your last breath. the thought makes kazuha feel sick. he was gone for at least ten minutes, how did he lose you so quickly? he shouldn't have told you to stay at camp by yourself. you'd offered to go with him but kazuha trusted you'd be safe without him, even just for a few minutes. his face turns sour at his own thoughts. how foolish had he been to think you'd have been safe without him? "i-i love you," he stutters out, voice cracking as he presses a kiss to your head, burying his nose in your hair when he tries to blanket himself in your scent - begging to the archons that he'll wake up in bed, "come on, let's go back to the alcor, beidou will get help." he's speaking to you in the softest of tones, his voice hushed as to not disturb the silence of the countryside - or attract more unwanted attention. carefully, kazuha raises himself to his feet with you in his arms. he sees tomo in you for a moment, forcing himself to swallow when there's a suffocating lump in his throat. by the time kazuha has stumbled back to the alcor, beidou rushing over with her face void of colour, your heart is no longer thudding against your ribcage. kazuha will never again hear your heartbeat when he lays his head on your chest or feel your pulse in your wrist when he grabs hold of you.

wanderer figured it was foolish to fall in love after all he'd gone through. what was love when you've been betrayed so many times before? when the archons have so harshly ripped the ones you love away from you? he likes to scowl and shun the premise of love until he met you, an adventurer from the guild assisting in vahumana darshan commissions. you would stubbornly strike conversations up with him, following him as he walked away until he finally caved and would reply.

was it foolish to fall in love or rather was it foolish to place his fragile trust back in the hands of the archons?

his ears are ringing, was mawtiyima forest always this loud? no, it's not even loud - it's silent. the silence is buzzing in his ears, driving him insane as he watches you cough blood onto the dirt. you'd been tasked with clearing out the treasure hoarder camp within the glowing forest - but wanderer isn't stupid. to let you do that alone? he'd be a mad man. but now he isn't too sure if he should have tagged along. would it have hurt him less to find out you'd passed away out on a commission through the guild? or is it hurting less to watch as you splatter that precious red that you humans rely on all over the ground? wanderer finds himself barely able to utter a word. that's rare, he usually has something to say in that stark, rude tone he never explicitly dropped. it made him cold, it stopped people approaching and getting close. why didn't it work against you? "w-why are you looking at me like that?" you croak out, pupils dilated and staring at him in concern. he's as pale as the snow on dragonspine but the tip of his nose is a pink hue as tears well up and sting at his widened eyes. he's not crying, he refuses to cry - he puts it down to not having blinked for a while. so he blinks but you're still hunched over, impaled by a polearm before him. he finally moves forward, kneeling carefully to the side of you as you let out a choked sob, your hands gripping his cold ones tight in yours. he's confused, what did he do to deserve it this time? he didn't ask for this existence in the first place. cursing under his breath, his eyes land on your sword on the floor. it's worn, getting dull and wanderer questions if you was unable to protect yourself properly. no. he didn't protect you properly and the archons saw an opportunity, another jab at his curse of an existence. his eyes dart between you and the blade, then the polearm that isn't welcome where it is. you wince, hiccuping as you wail into the silence of mawtiyima forest. your vision is falling hazy in between the blur of your tears and you're struggling to keep your eyes on your boyfriend's familiar face. "no, no, no - don't go," wanderer panics. it's the first thing he's said since he offered to join you on this commission, "don't leave me, not you too." you let out a sad laugh, coughing blood once more as your breaths get shorter with every one you take. wanderer feels sick, the tears are falling down his cheeks and he can't deny them anymore. there's a last breath, raspy and suffocating before your body falls forward into his arms, limp like a doll. wanderer screams out into the night, hands clutching at the guild's uniform you would proudly wear. how many more times was he going to witness someone getting hastily robbed from him?

xiao keeps his distance, even as your beloved boyfriend that you struggle to be away from for extended periods. you were stubborn, believing he didn't have to succumb to his karma as an adeptus. no matter how much he would shuffle away, he could guarantee you would shuffle after him until he no longer moved away. you still gave him his space - you knew you could find him at wangshu inn.

or if you really needed him, in the midst of the night for a multitude of reasons, you could say his name.

there's a lump in xiao's throat, what the fuck happened? one moment he knows he hears your hurried screams of his name, there's a shrill panic in your tone and he's alert in seconds. he thought you was perhaps in danger but when golden eyes see how you're leaning back on a tree, blood soaking your shirt - and your blade, he realises the danger is gone. and in all of your stubbornness, you had defeated the danger alone but put your life on the line as a result. you smile at him weakly, his footsteps silent as he rushes over to your side. "i got it, don't worry, love." you sigh, tilting your head back on the bark. xiao scowls, you're losing consciousness from the blood now, it's starting to pool beneath you and run down the cracks of the bark behind you. this isn't a minor injury and yet you hadn't called for him sooner? "we need to get you out of here - morax- zhongli- he can help," he barely breathes in between his words, swallowing at the tight feeling in his throat when your eyes are closing, "keep your eyes open, please." his beg falls short of no one's ears other than his own and the stars above. xiao stops breathing himself, holding his breath when he hurries to press the pads of his fingers to your neck, your wrist, anywhere he can try find a pulse. but there's nothing, your body is still warm and xiao pulls you flush to his chest when tears begin to fall down his cheeks. "keep.. them open. please." he repeats in a whisper, nudging his nose against your head as he buries his face into your hair. he's begging in hushed whispers, words disappearing into the strands of your hair in silent prayers.

kaeya was the one who chased you first, lisa's darling library assistant. he'd never spent so much time in the library in his life, other than crepus' own library at the winery but he wasn't much fond of that collection. he isn't much fond of the knights' collection either, reading the same book every day. jean occasionally entrusts you to handle matters in the valleys of mondstadt, to which kaeya is quick to always interfere and say that he'll go with you.

history will always repeat itself until the lesson is learned and an innocent soul has to face the reality.

thunder booms over head, followed by a distant crack of lightning that illuminates the dark sky above mondstadt. kaeya is stood, motionless as he looks at you. his eyes are distant, there's a vacant look about him when the blood is running down your bare legs and mixing with the rain. you're both soaked but your clothes are staining red where a mitachurl's axe caught you in the side. the blood is coming quick and heavy, there isn't time for kaeya to get you back to the city. this scene is familiar when you fall to your knees in the mud, hands holding at your side for pressure. suddenly, your hair is a bright shade of red. is kaeya about to stand and do nothing for a second time, when history is repeating himself right in front of his very own eyes? he swallows but it's difficult, rushing to your side. you're losing consciousness but your eyes are scanning his face. the sun kissed skin, the worn leather eyepatch and his messy blue ponytail that now looks like waterfalls cascading around his face. you smile at the thought. you should visit the waterfalls of mondstadt when the weather picks up so you can gawk at them. "baby?" it comes out of his mouth, barely audible above the rain, "say something - are you okay?" you almost throw back a playful retort but your vision is darkening around the edges and you're grasping to what sight you have left to look at kaeya. your vision blurs when tears threaten to spill - are you scared? you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. kaeya's gloved hands cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "stay with me, love, i can't lose you," kaeya's frantic and his words are jumbling when he panics, "we'll stop the bleeding and take you to sister barbara-" kaeya pauses when he notices you haven't blinked despite the rain falling onto your face when he pulls his forehead away. there's a distant look in your eyes, the light has faded and he can't feel the hot, struggled breaths you was taking against his skin anymore. a flurry of angered swears leave his lips and he's careful when he carries you bridal style to the dawn winery. it's the first place he thinks to take you, back to his brother who can't bear to see kaeya stood in the rain again with blood drenching his clothes from the long walk to the winery's front door.

© https-heizou 2023.

[askablindperson]

In what way does alt text serve as an accessibility tool for blind people? Do you use text to speech? I'm having trouble imagining that. I suppose I'm in general not understanding how a blind person might use Tumblr, but I'm particularly interested in the function of alt text.

In short, yes. We use text to speech (among other access technology like braille displays) very frequently to navigate online spaces. Text to speech software specifically designed for blind people are called screen readers, and when use on computers, they enable us to navigate the entire interface using the keyboard instead of the mouse And hear everything on screen, as long as those things are accessible. The same applies for touchscreens on smart phones and tablets, just instead of using keyboard commands, it alters the way touch affect the screen so we hear what we touch before anything actually gets activated. That part is hard to explain via text, but you should be able to find many videos online of blind people demonstrating how they use their phones.

As you may be able to guess, images are not exactly going to be accessible for text to speech software. Blindness screen readers are getting better and better at incorporating OCR (optical character recognition) software to help pick up text in images, and rudimentary AI driven Image descriptions, but they are still nowhere near enough for us to get an accurate understanding of what is in an image the majority of the time without a human made description.

Now I’m not exactly a programmer so the terminology I use might get kind of wonky here, but when you use the alt text feature, the text you write as an image description effectively gets sort of embedded onto the image itself. That way, when a screen reader lands on that image, Instead of having to employ artificial intelligences to make mediocre guesses, it will read out exactly the text you wrote in the alt text section.

Not only that, but the majority of blind people are not completely blind, and usually still have at least some amount of residual vision. So there are many blind people who may not have access to a screen reader, but who may struggle to visually interpret what is in an image without being able to click the alt text button and read a description. Plus, it benefits folks with visual processing disorders as well, where their visual acuity might be fine, but their brain’s ability to interpret what they are seeing is not. Being able to click the alt text icon in the corner of an image and read a text description Can help that person better interpret what they are seeing in the image, too.

Granted, in most cases, typing out an image description in the body of the post instead of in the alt text section often works just as well, so that is also an option. But there are many other posts in my image descriptions tag that go over the pros and cons of that, so I won’t digress into it here.

Utilizing alt text or any kind of image description on all of your social media posts that contain images is single-handedly one of the simplest and most effective things you can do to directly help blind people, even if you don’t know any blind people, and even if you think no blind people would be following you. There are more of us than you might think, and we have just as many varied interests and hobbies and beliefs as everyone else, so where there are people, there will also be blind people. We don’t only hang out in spaces to talk exclusively about blindness, we also hang out in fashion Facebook groups and tech subreddits and political Twitter hashtags and gaming related discord servers and on and on and on. Even if you don’t think a blind person would follow you, You can’t know that for sure, and adding image descriptions is one of the most effective ways to accommodate us even if you don’t know we’re there.

I hope this helps give you a clearer understanding of just how important alt text and image descriptions as a whole are for blind accessibility, and how we make use of those tools when they are available.

[tinydefector]

reading that perfume scenario i js imagine a bot spraying their human lover with a lil bit perfume before going down on them like adding salt to steak

It truly is a favourite of mine because I love the idea of perfumes and working like a pheromone enhancer, but like the number of scenarios this can lead into outside of the fic I wrote for Ratchet.

Let me know you you guys want more little pieces like these ɓecuase I like doing these kinda things when I'm not up for writing a fic so enjoy. ^^

Megatron masterlist

Optimus Masterlist

Prowl masterlist

Thundercracker masterlist

Such scenarios as

- date night with optimus where you dress up nicely with a lovely perfume/cologne and from the moment you get into his cab to go out he's struggling, and trying to be polite and a decent date but he turns into an actually feind when he gets to kiss you and every part of his stoic facade is out the window as he kisses across your skin taking in every inch and savoruing it like its the last time he's ever going to taste something this divine. It's fair to say your very sore afterwards, to Optimus you taste like Energon Z with bismuth and copper.

- sensual nights laying in bed with Megatron as he runs his servos over your waist holding you close as he admires and denies himself the luxury of so much. So to speed things up you decide to put some perfume on and it humbles Megatron very quickly. How much restraint he has despite how the perfume enhances everything. He's a slow and very dedicated lover despite what many would think. It turns into a very long night of soft kisses and soft vore. Him enjoying the taste of your skin on his glossa and when the taste fades he ask for you to put more perfume on. To Megatron it taste like Red energon with Magnesium, Lithium.

- the late night work hours where Prowl is focused on work, hours after he should have been back due to someone else mistake, he goes to snap at whoever had intupted his work when the scent hits his nasal Ridge and his helm shoots up and locks on to you. Watching like you're a meal prepared for him. That's how you end up on his desk, legs over his shoulder plating as he indulges. Prowl isn't one to indulhe like this. He isn't easily swayed by lust. but this late at night, he enjoys taking it slow and indulging in your company. To Prowl, you taste like his favourite energon blend from before the war. Just casual energon, Mercury, and crystal.

- the first time. Thundercracker's first-time smelling perfume on you was when you were testing out different ones you had been given. The sweet scent catches him off guard, and that's how he finds himself watching. I'm watching as you try new clothing and test spray perfume on your wrist. But when you make your way over to him, asking him to tell you what he thinks, it leads to him pressing your wrist to his lips, It turns into a night of taste testing. It has Thundercracker riled up, and you aroused, but it turns into a game of how long it takes either of you to finally crack. For Thundercracker, it takes like pure energon with Uranium.

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

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@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

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@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 7]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Author's Note: I know I always say this, but I am very excited for this part! lol I hope y'all like it! Also, if I forgot to tag you in the taglist, or if you'd like to be added, please let me know! I try to add people as they ask, but I'm afraid I'll miss someone. So just let me know! Thanks!

Taglist: @cassies-cookies @crisle19 @jk-190811 @khadeeeeej @kooklovee @lalataegi @lallataegi @parkinglot-nights @rispwr @taetaecatboy @whoa-jo @11thenightwemet11

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

“How are you feeling about today?” Namjoon asked his client. 

Jimin was standing with you in the lobby of the courthouse, dressed in his best Ralph Lauren suit, keeping your hand in his. You sported a long-sleeve baby blue pencil dress from Versace that belted around the waist, with a pair of beige Louboutin heels. You chose your outfit knowing that the press would be there that day, and you wanted to appear put together and presentable for your fiancé’s case. Standing by him, with your engagement ring proudly shining on your finger, you could see the cameras outside through the lobby windows, snapping photos that will undoubtedly be front page news tomorrow. You understood fully that the direction the day goes would determine so much; the Park family name, the perception of Jimin as incoming CEO of the company, and most importantly, your future together. 

“I’m ok.” Jimin replied, gripping your hand, before turning to look at your face. “How are you feeling, my love?” 

“I’m ok, too.” You offered a sweet smile. Composed. 

“We’ll get through this.” Namjoon said. “I can’t imagine Judge Harmon being more difficult than he has to be.” 

“How is he? As a judge?” Jimin asks. 

“No bullshit, but fair.” Namjoon replied. “He’s worked in the city a long time, and he’s seen it all. But as long as he can see that you’re trying, he’s fair.” 

Namjoon glanced at his phone, checking the time. 

“We need to go in there, it’s our time.” Namjoon said. “Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for having your statement ready for me this morning.” 

“Of course.” You responded, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “Anything to make this easier.” 

Jimin smiled sadly at your words. He wished it were easier; he wished the situation weren’t so difficult on you. He felt like a liar to your families, and to himself. He knew he’s already failed so many times in taking care of you, loving you, and giving you the life he knows you deserve. Yet here you were, dignified as always, standing by him in front of the world’s attention. He didn’t deserve you, and for the first time, he truly understood that deeply. But he was thankful that you were there nonetheless, holding his hand. 

The four of you walked down the hallway together, and you gave Jimin a quick kiss for luck before slipping away with Jung Kook into the public, gallery seats in the court room, behind Namjoon and Jimin’s council table. The court was empty otherwise, except for the other legal team at their table, as the judge ordered prior to that no cameras were to be inside for this brief decision. 

“All rise for the honorable Judge Joseph Harmon.” The bailiff announced, leading everyone in the room to stand while the judge entered, taking his seat at the bench. “You may be seated.” 

“Mr. Park,” Judge Harmon began, looking up from his glasses to the young heir. “It seems your council is asking for a deferral on your case today. Is that correct?” 

“Yes, your honor.” Jimin answered. 

“Your honor, my client is asking for a minimum ninety day deferral, in order to seek rehabilitation treatment.” Namjoon began. “We request to submit a treatment plan to the court, as well as a personal character statement written by the defendant’s fiancé.” 

“Very well.” Judge Harmon nodded, allowing the bailiff to take the paper work from Namjoon and bring it to him. The court was silent as he looked through the documents quickly. “And, why must the defendant miss his upcoming court dates for this? Could he not be escorted to and from the court during those dates, and return once the day is over?” 

“Your honor, it would be against the suggestion of his therapy team to remove Mr. Park from his in-person support for long hours at a time.” Namjoon reasoned. “His team, as well as Ms. Y/L/N, have requested in writing that Mr. Park focus solely on his health before his dates, as any distraction may disturb his treatment plan.” 

“Your honor,” The opposing lawyer spoke up, her tone annoyed. “Calling this case a ‘distraction’ is insulting to those who Mr. Park misled and defrauded out of their investments. I would argue that Mr. Park is attempting to delay this case in order to lower his chances of facing any consequences for his actions.” 

“If I may, your honor,” Namjoon responded, “I can assure the court that Mr. Park is not delaying consequences, as we feel that we have a strong case against these allegations. My client is simply doing the responsible thing; doing right by his family, his business, and his wife-to-be, by seeking immediate help for his addiction and behavior.” 

“And what behavior would that be, Mr. Kim?” The judge asked. Jimin shot Namjoon a wide-eyed panicked look, not wanting to reveal his private fight with you. 

You became nervous, as well. Jung Kook knowingly reached for your hand, and was surprised when you took it, locking your fingers with his for support. I’m right here, Y/N, he said to himself, as if you could hear his thoughts. 

“Emotional management courses, your honor.” Namjoon replied. “It’s standard practice for someone on this treatment path, as outlined by his recovery team.” 

“I see.” Judge Harmon said, looking at the blonde heir. Jimin was sitting upright, in perfect posture, trying to keep his composure under the weight of the judge’s look. “Mr. Park, I believe it may be best for you to seek treatment before we continue with the case. The court is granting you the request for a ninety-day deferral to focus on your health.” 

“Thank you, your honor.” Namjoon smiled, looking over at a very relieved Jimin. The prosecution lawyer rolled her eyes and tsked in disbelief, but Namjoon paid it no mind. 

Jimin turned around to give you a smile, and Jung Kook mentally thanked his luck that your fiancé didn’t see his hand in yours from where he was sitting, because Jung Kook wasn’t at all ready to let you go; to let you leave his hold, and run back to him. But Jung Kook knew he had to, as much as it hurt him. He knew, despite his heart begging at him to keep you close, that you weren’t his to hold on to. 

————————————————————————————————————

Namjoon brought you and Jimin back to your hotel room to help Jimin pack for his treatment, while Jung Kook retreated back to his office for the rest of the day. When you arrived at the suite, bottles were still scattered among the tables, floors and counters, reminding you of all of the terrible nights, not just the most recent incident, where Jimin had crossed the line. All of the times he messed up, not keeping his promise that he whispered to you that night in front of your families.

“Mr. Kim,” Jimin called out to Namjoon from the bedroom, who was gathering Jimin’s clothes from the closet nearby. “Would you be alright with leaving Y/N and I for the afternoon? My driver will make sure I’m on time for my check-in, I just… I’d like to have some private time with her.” 

“Of course, Mr. Park.” Namjoon said, bowing respectfully. “If either of you need anything, please don't hesitate to call.” 

“Thank you.” Jimin said, waving to him on his way out, before turning to you. 

You were picking up empty bottles with a sadness in your eyes that Jimin never, in his life, wanted to see again. 

“Hi, my love.” Jimin said as gently as he could, approaching you. He could see that sadness so clearly the closer he came, and saw just how deep in truly ran. “Honey, come here. I wanna talk to you.” 

You nodded, and reached out for his hand. Jimin led you to the bedroom, and sat you on the bed before bending down on the floor by your legs to look up at you, making you giggle. 

“Jiminie, what are you doing?” You laughed, earning a smile from your fiancé. 

“Jiminie? Honey, you haven’t called me that in so long.” He replied. “I just wanted to look at you, my love, and I wanted to ask what my pretty girl is thinking about.” 

“I… I don’t wanna fight anymore.” You replied, your voice so quickly turning soft in exhaustion and sadness. 

“There won’t be any fighting today.” He said, rubbing his hands up your legs in comfort. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” 

“I’m just tired.” You responded truthfully. “I’m so tired, baby. I can’t… I don’t know what to do…” 

“Shhhh, I know.” Jimin said gently, looking at your face as you spoke. He could see it from the dark circles under your eyes, and the dullness of your skin. “I know I haven’t made things easy on you, and I’m sorry honey. You must be so worried all the time, right? Not sleeping or eating much?” 

You nodded to confirm. “Jung Kook made japchae, and that was the first full dish I’ve eaten in a while.” 

Jimin smiled unconvincingly, hating to know that another man took care of you in the way he should’ve. 

“I’m glad you ate well, my love.” He said diplomatically. “When I’m in treatment, I want you to you sleep and eat well every day, ok? And I want you to tell me if you need anything at all. ” 

“Baby, I’ll be ok.” You smiled, delicately keeping your composure. “It’s only for a short time, right? You need to focus on getting better, not on my needs. Besides, Jung Kook is there, just in case. I won’t be alone.” 

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded, trying to keep his protectiveness and jealousy under control. “But listen, honey, I mean it. If you need or want anything, you can come to me, ok? I want you to come to me.” 

“Ok.” You nodded. 

Jimin gazed up at you for a moment longer, unsure if you really meant it, because knowing you, you’ll do things yourself or ask someone else before him, just to make sure he focuses on himself. You knew that giving you things was Jimin’s way of feeling adequate. A manicure, a new bag or dress, a nice meal at a nice place, a beautiful vacation, amazing sex. Jimin felt needed and secure as a man when he gave you these things. But what Jimin didn’t realize, was that you needed something that was somehow both more, and so simple. You only needed him to be ok, and to prove that he can be a stable partner for you.   

After a few moments of committing your features to memory, etching them into his mind, Jimin wrapped a hand around each of your ankles, and began kissing up your exposed legs, distracting you from your thoughts. Softly, slowly moving up your skin with his plush pink lips, making you giggle in surprise.

“Jimin!” You laughed sweetly. 

“Let me make you feel good, honey.” He said, his voice deepening as he moves up your legs, lifting your dress. “Gonna use my tongue just how you like it.” 

He continued to pull your dress up as he moved, keeping himself on his knees, nibbling and kissing your thighs until he reached your lace panties. He kissed you over the fabric, teasing you with just enough pressure and tongue to make you whimper in anticipation.

“Jimin, please…” You begged, running your fingers through his blonde locks. 

“Angel, this sweet little pussy’s so wet for me already.” He murmured, moving your lace to the side with one finger. “Such a needy girl, so easy to get your pretty pussy excited.” 

He gave you wet, soft kisses along your opening, nibbling delicately on the skin, making your throw your head back and pick up your breathing. Then, his tongue, pressing quick kitten licks at your clit, which had already peeked out to seek attention. 

“J-Jimin…” You whined, gripping his hair as he continued to alternate between speed and pressure, licking and sucking, burying himself between your thighs. He slid a finger, then two, moving them in and out, and curling them to caress your sensitive spot. “Baby… Baby… Please… Baby…” 

You had no idea what exactly you were begging him for, with your mind emptying alongside each movement. You knew it was a distraction; a moment of pleasure in a sea of pain that you’ve tasted many times before. But for now, you’d let his familiar touch melt your worries away once again. A few more moments of careful attention had your toes curling and your hands pulling his hair as you came with a cry. .

You let him move you up further onto the bed, so that he could undo his pants and drop them to his knees, to let his hard, sensitive length spring out. He slid fully into you with a possessive growl, and began to fuck you hard, making the hotel bed, and yourself, squeak just as you did the first night you stayed here. 

Each movement was a strong cocktail of loving passion, pleasureful distraction, and begging apology, mixed with a lingering sense of his sense of possession. Jimin locked his lips to your neck, and engraved you with shallow marks as he whispered in your ear, “My pretty girl… Fuck, my sweet angel… My girl, taking my cock so well… F-Fuck…. All mine… ” 

It was a clear reminder, whispered to you through your whines as you let pleasure consume you once more, feeling his thumb massage your clit; Parks got what they wanted, and Jimin intended on keeping it that way. His mistakes could always be fixed with the swipe of a card, some sweet words, or a good, loving touch between your thighs. But as his thrusts became more sloppy and shallow, so too did his promises, when he pulled out and spilled onto you, ignoring his vow to finish inside and be closer to you. 

It was a moment of realization, as you lay there looking at his beautiful face, that no matter how seemingly hard he would try, he would always be Jimin. Flaws and all. The way he showed love, the increasingly obvious emptiness of his commitments, the circles he takes your heart in. He will always be that version of himself, because it is the only version of himself.

As he kissed your neck and whispered “I love you”, you wondered, for the first time, if those words, and that love, would ever truly be enough. 

——————————————————————————————————  

You went with Jimin to the rehabilitation center, and after a teary goodbye, you had the driver take you to Jung Kook’s apartment. He was waiting for you in the living room, only able to imagine the emotional day you had. He had rehearsed over and over again what to say, to give you the comfort and love he knew that you needed. But when you walked in with tears, his mind blanked, and the only thing he could think to ask was, “What do you need?” 

“I… I don’t know.” You said softly, unsure of so many things. 

Jung Kook looked at you with sad brown eyes, walked towards you, and replied, “I think what you need, is a hug. C’mere.” 

As he wrapped his arms around you, he realized he couldn’t have offered anything better. You clung to him like a float in a crashing ocean, desperate for a moment of calm. He wanted to provide that for you, so he held you close, hoping it could somehow meld the leftover pieces back together. Or, at the very least, remind you that you never had to pick them back up alone. 

He hoped you understood that later that night, when he heard you speaking to your father on a video call in the guest room. Jung Kook wanted to give you privacy, but when he heard the angry tone of your father, he couldn’t help but overhear through the thin wall between the bedrooms. 

“So Jimin is in treatment right now?” 

“Yes, Appa.” You responded, nervously picking at your nails. “I think he’ll be better afterwards. He just needs some time.” 

“Y/N,” Your father sighed. “I don’t like that you’re dealing with this again. How many more times are you going to have to go through this with him?” 

“He’s really trying.” You said sadly. “He’s not a bad person.” 

“I know he’s not a bad person, sweetie.” You father said, trying to reason with you. “But I think he may be ‘bad’ for you. I don’t know, I’m just worried about you. Are you by yourself now, in a new city?” 

“No, Appa. I’m staying with Jung Kook.” You said. “He works with Mr. Kim, and I used to go to university with him. He’s been very sweet to me, you would like him if you met him.” 

Jung Kook couldn’t help but smile at your words, but still held on to what your father said. Jimin’s not a bad person, but he’s bad for you. Your own father having doubts about your engagement was not something he expected to hear, but he shouldn’t say he was all that surprised. You deserved more. 

When he heard you say your goodbyes, his thoughts were interrupted, and he began to scroll through his phone as he laid on his bed, pretending as though he hadn’t heard your conversation. 

“Hi.” You said after a few moments, with a knock on his bedroom door. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

“I’m sure you’re tired. It’s been a hard day.” Jung Kook responded, watching you turn around. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, turning around towards him once more. 

“I’m off tomorrow.” He smiled. “Let me show you some cool places in the city.” 

“Jung Kook, you don’t have to do that-”

“I want to.” He replied. “Please? I think I… um, it can make you feel better.” 

You smiled at his sentiment, ignoring the charming slip of his words. 

“Ok.” You agreed, giving in to the brown, puppy eyes of the man who looked so soft in his bed. “It’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah.” He smiled. "I think so, too."

“Goodnight.” You waved, turning away from him. 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened, watching your hand wave him good night. Something was different, missing, that was clearly there before your conversation with your father. It made his heart drop to his stomach, and his mind buzz for the rest of the night.

Your engagement ring was gone. 

[candysims4]

NOSTALGIA SET

I'm super happy to share my last release of this month with you. It's a set of six brand-new items for CAS: two earrings, one beanie, one nails, one mini-cropped sweater with a bodysuit combo, and one pair of pants.

AS IT’S TOO MUCH TEXT, I’LL LEAVE THE DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM PLUS THE CREATOR’S NOTES BELOW THE CUT.

ALL ITEMS ARE:

TEEN TO ELDER

BASE GAME COMPATIBLE

MADE FOR FEMALE FRAME

DISALLOWED FOR RANDOM

THUMBNAILS (HOSTED IN IMGUR)

MY SITE (NO AD.FLY): KYLIE HOOPS (TWO VERSIONS) | HILARY EARRINGS | P!NK BEANIE | CHRISTINA NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) | HAYLEY SWEATER AND BODYSUIT | AVRIL PANTS (TWO VERSIONS) Free release on 19th September 2023

PATREON EARLY ACCESS + MERGED OPTIONS

TERMS OF USE | SEND YOUR FEEDBACK | REPORT AN ISSUE

Thanks to all the cc creators that I used in the pic. And thanks to @maxismatchccworld, @simblrcollective, @s4library​, @wewantmods​, and everybody who reblog this post!

If you’re a cc finds and want to be tagged when I post, please, let me know. You can send me an ask or in DM.

With your help, more people can know about my work! 💖 Love you all, XOXO <;33

DESCRIPTION OF EACH ITEM:

KYLIE HOOPS (TWO VERSIONS) Same colors and description for both versions.

928 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

HILARY EARRINGS

928 POLYGONS

10 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/EARRINGS

P!NK BEANIE (TWO VERSIONS) Same description for both versions.

2.780 POLYGONS

YOU WILL FIND IN HATS/BRIMLESS

VERSION 1:

100 SWATCH COLORS - 50 color combinations - 50 patterned

VERSION 2:

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

CHRISTINA NAILS (TWO VERSIONS) Same description for both versions.

660 POLYGONS

YOU WILL FIND IN ACCESSORIES/FINGERNAILS

VERSION 1:

44 SWATCH COLORS - All color combinations

VERSION 2:

55 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

HAYLEY SWEATER AND BODYSUIT

3.696 POLYGONS

190 SWATCH COLORS - 85 color combinations - 25 patterned (bodysuit) - 85 patterned (sweater)

YOU WILL FIND IN TOP/SWEATER OR/AND TANK TOP

AVRIL PANTS (TWO VERSIONS) Same description for both versions.

1.346 POLYGONS

YOU WILL FIND IN BOTTOM/JEANS

VERSION 1:

79 SWATCH COLORS - 44 single/plain colors - 35 color combinations

VERSION 2:

44 SWATCH COLORS - All plain colors

CREATOR'S NOTES:

Let's start with the accessories of this set. There are two sets of earrings; "Hilary Earrings," one with small hoops and a coin as a pendant, and "Kylie Hoops," two hoops, one smaller than the other. Kylie comes in two versions; the difference is that the bigger hoop is smaller in the second version. Both items are gorgeous and so easy to style; I'm loving them.

"P!nk Beanie" is a simple beanie but still beautiful and stands out in the outfit. It comes in two different versions with plenty of swatches to choose from. The main difference between the two versions is the tag on the back of the beanie; version one has, and the two haven't. Plus, they have different color palettes.

And last but not least, "Christina Nails," a new set of nails with two different versions. Version 1 is a cute french tip, but with a little twist - they're colorful! And just for fun, I did the same nails with plain colors without the french tip (Version 2), just because of this new medium/small shape I did for this new nail design.

Now the clothes, "Hayley Sweater and Bodysuit," is very cute, but also edgy. I liked this bodysuit design; I'm considering remaking it as a new item. I'll have to draw the top part and a new mesh; it's no big deal. What do you guys think about this idea? It comes in various swatch options. I added as many as possible, but since it was already 190 and the end of the month, I figured I should probably stop, or I'd never finish it! As 190 swatches weren't enough (hahaha), I did a recolor acc for recolor the sweater in 55 plain colors.

"Avril Pants" is an oversized cargo jeans that come in two versions - one with patches and one without. In both versions, they look very edgy and beautiful. The patches are available in two styles: one with just one color in different shades (like light to dark red) and the other with varying combos of color (like red+pink+blue).

All these items are inspired by the Y2K fashion but with my personal style mixed into it, too. I love the nostalgia of the 2000s, and it's been a huge inspiration for me when creating outfits and CC in the past. Still, as it's more trendy and I like it, I decided to do my first outfit for this set based on the fashion trend from the 2000s. I am anxious to design the following outfit for this set; I want to do a Nostalgia Set, a huge and complete set encompassing the most fashion eras possible.

And as always, all these items have been made to be worn together or separately - whatever you decide! I hope you like these items and enjoy playing with them. XOXO <33

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[stitchau]

————————《《FAQ》》————————

This post will be updated over time.

Main artist account: @centfornothing (both tumblr and twitter)

— Usage of Stitch/Fanart

1. Q: Can I create fanart of Stitch?

A: Yes, I'd be more than happy if you do! ^^

Also, do not be shy to tag me! I will, from time to time, check if i was tagged somewhere.

2. Q: Can I use your character in my comic/animation/fanfiction?

A: Yep! I don't see why not.

3. Q: Can I ship *insert character name here* with Stitch?

A: Sure, have fun! But I sure do hope that the character in question is not a child. I am strongly against it.

4. Q: Can I create NSFW🔞 content of Stitch?

A: Yes, unless it involves children/incest. Do not draw stuff like that.

— NOT ALLOWED

I'm being repetitive here, but whatever. These are the only things I don't want people to do with my character, and I hope you understand why.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch engaging with children in sexual manner.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch endorsing incest/racism/f*cism/n*zism or anything similar to that.

As advice, I'd kindly ask you not to create stuff like this at all. Please be a better person and be responsible with what you create and put out there on the internet.

— About asks

Questions that I have already answered won't get a reply.

Not all the questions will get their answers. Either because it's not the time for the answer yet or because it's irrelevant/not a question at all.

If there's too many questions, yours might be missed/might get a late reply(currently i have 70+ questions, no joke, and i just cant answer all of them, especially when there's more of them every day). But don't be shy asking questions anyway!

Other reasons for your questions not getting an answer:

I might be busy because I also have to live a life.

If your question is something like "I love your au sm," then thank you. I really appreciate your kind words, you are making my day💞

I might not want to answer your question for reasons. (Provocative questions, personal questions, etc)

If you are asking something related to YOUR OWN mental health. Please, PLEASE, if you have real problems, do not try to find a solution for them from internet strangers, go and talk to a real, qualified professional.

Please do not vent to me, I am not qualified to offer you help. I wish you the best, please stay safe.

And just a separate point about roleplays. Sorry, but I don't really do them. I can play along to something unserious and small, but whole roleplays are not for me.

— About Stitch

Stitch uses any pronouns, but they/them is a preferred one.

They are aroace.

The place they live in is called "Treatment space"(the info on what it is will be elaborated on sometime later). It is accessible for anyone in Omega Timeline at any given point through a door. But it can also be accessed from anywhere if you have one of 2 special keys: small red key that will create a door for 1 person leading to the Treatment Space or the bigger dark red key that will create a much bigger door, also leading to the Treatment Space(backyard). Keys can be mostly found in Omega Timeline, but some are scattered throughout the Multiverse.

They mimic the voice according to the form they have at the moment. So Sans' voice for a form of Sans, etc.

For all the different parts of plush bodies and clothes, there is a separate big room in Treatment Space.

Stitch doesn't need to sleep, eat, or drink.

Their most preferred forms are Toriel(convenience) and Sans(frequency of use).

The forms they don't like to use the most are the ones that are small(like Temmie, annoying dog, Flowey, etc.)

— The Lore(WIP)

Prologue

Chapter 1: Lucky streak — part 1

More info will be added

[marvel-ous-m]

✨ The Planets and the Fates (and All the Stars) Aligned ✨

WC: 4264 | Rating: T | Tags: Platonic Stobin, Famous!Eddie Munson/Guidance Counselor!Steve Harrington, Meet-Cute, Platonic HellCheer, Buckingham Mentioned | AO3 Link

Happiest of birthdays to the one and only @hairstevington !! You are such an inspiration and I'm truly honored to call you a friend. I hope that today is all you want it to be and more. Getting to know you through STWG has been one of the highlights of my year, and I will always have Sharkboy and Lavagirl to thank for that. <3 Taylor Lautner and his impact are frankly unmatched. 

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this very silly little platonic Stobin adventure, featuring Steddie and Buckingham Meet-Cutes

“Robin, do you seriously think that it’s a good idea to empty out our savings accounts so that we can fly across the country for a film screening?” Steve took a bite of his cereal and raised his eyebrows at her. They were seated on opposite sides of their thrifted dining room table, Steve eating cereal as a late-night dinner while Robin sat with him, splitting her time between scrolling TikTok on her phone and teaching herself how to cross stitch. It was her latest hyperfixation craft, and based on how long her craft kicks usually lasted, she’d be retiring this one in a week or so. 

Well, it was nice while it lasted. 

“I just got an advertisement for the Seattle International Film Festival, and the ad specifically showed me a clip of our movie, Steve!”

Steve hummed, taking another bite of his cereal. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange to call it ‘our movie’? We were extras, Rob, we were in it for a few seconds, if that.” 

Robin let out a huff of annoyance, then turned her phone to face Steve. It was playing the TikTok she had described on loop, depicting a few split-second scenes from the various movies that would be shown at the festival. The scene that had been chosen from ‘their’ movie, Please Turn the Lights Off, was the ‘hotel lobby’ scene. Steve and Robin had portrayed rabid fans alongside a hundred other extras in that scene, screaming about the arrival of up-and-coming rockstar Robert “Bobby” Star to the hotel. They were, however, not visible in the split-second clip that Robin was now shoving in his face.

Apparently, Please Turn the Lights Off was a movie about overconsumption and parasocial relationships. Robin had found out as much a few months ago when the trailer dropped, and she’d gushed about how absolutely outstanding it looked. Steve wanted to see the movie, yeah, but he wasn’t exactly sold on the idea of dropping two paychecks to fly across the country to do that. 

“It’ll be fun, Steve! It can be an adventure. How many other times are we going to get the opportunity to say that we attended a movie premiere for a film that we were in?” Robin pleaded with him, her eyes going wide and her lips forming a pout. 

Steve huffed out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Look, Birdie, I love you, you know that- but no matter what you say, you’re not convincing me.” 

“Steve, do you have the hotel information? I have to call the Uber, and for some reason I can’t find the details on my phone.” Robin grumbled out her question as she scrolled through her emails, oblivious to Steve’s struggling with their bags at baggage claim. 

Why had he agreed to do this again? 

“I forwarded you the email two weeks ago, Robs. We’re booked at the DoubleTree- the one here next to the airport, not the one downtown.” 

Robin hummed, then let out a soft, “Aha!” when she found the booking. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve gave a half-hearted “You’re welcome” in response, dragging Robin’s luggage over to where she was standing. 

“Okay, I booked the Uber, I think we need to go… upstairs? No, downstairs. Yeah, we need to go downstairs and across the street in the next two minutes.” Robin shot Steve a blinding smile, then began to walk in the direction of the rideshare pickup, leaving Steve to handle the bags. 

The things he did for Robin Buckley.

Finding the Uber wasn’t too difficult when all was said and done. Thankfully, the driver had been willing to wait for an extra few minutes while Steve and Robin navigated the twists and turns of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The drive to their hotel ended up being pretty short, too. 

Once they got checked in, dragged the luggage upstairs, and arrived at their room, Steve was ready to fall over. Robin, however, seemed like she was ready to do the exact opposite.

“We should go downtown! Grab some drinks, explore the city- I heard that you can actually go up in the space needle. Isn’t that, like crazy? Oh, and it rotates!”

Steve dropped their bags by the bed, let out an exhausted groan, then fell onto the bed face-first. His response to Robin was muffled by the pillow he had fallen onto. “I am not going anywhere until it’s time for us to leave for the screening event tomorrow. I’m so tired.” 

Robin huffed and flopped onto the mattress next to him, poking his arm. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad! We just had to leave our apartment at, like, 4:30am? That’s only two hours earlier than you usually wake up, I don’t know why you’re being such a baby about it.” 

Steve sighed, rolling over onto his back. He gave Robin an unimpressed look. “If you’re still awake in an hour, even after I’ve turned off all the lights and put on Lo-fi, we can explore downtown.” 

Robin grinned. “Deal.” 

Low and behold, she fell asleep before Steve did. 

Yeah, he kinda knew that would happen. 

“I should have gone with the other outfit, right? This top doesn’t go with the pants. Do you think the top goes with the pants? Steve, I can’t go to our cinematic debut in an outfit that clashes.” Robin groaned, tugging at the sleeve of her button-up shirt as they walked into the venue. 

Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shot Robin a reassuring smile. “You look great, Robs. You’re overthinking it because you’re nervous, the outfit doesn’t clash at all.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?” Robin frowned down at her clothes- a green button up shirt tucked into black slacks with a gray suit vest over top of it. “It’s not, like… too dull?” 

“Nah, it’s nice! You look great. It’s a good shade of green, it really compliments your eyes.” Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket as he spoke. They were approaching the ticket reader, and he wanted to have it ready for the scanner. 

Robin brushed her hands down her shirt to try and flatten out a few wrinkles, then let out a resigned sigh. “Alright. Thanks, dingus. For what it’s worth, your outfit is perfect.” 

The person staffing the ticket counter scanned the two digital tickets on Steve’s phone, then waved them through. Steve kept his phone out as he navigated to their seats in the theater. “Really? I sorta felt like the pink shirt was a bold choice, but I had to pay homage to the pink streak in my hair from when we were filming this. Plus, y’know, pink and black- classic color combo.”

“May the pink streak of hair and the bet that she represents always live on in infamy.” Robin replied, dramatically lamenting the loss of the pink and the return of his natural hair color.

“I’m still in shock that somehow you knew Tommy Hagan had a crush on me in highschool before I did.” Steve pocketed his phone as they reached their seats, ushering Robin into the already almost-full row they had arrived at. He took the seat on the aisle and glanced around the theater for a moment, eyes widening when he realized how many people were present. 

“Yeah, well, I’m still shocked that you never realized how many people were head over heels for you back then. Still, I’m glad it only took three shots for Tommy to make a move, I did not want to see Tommy Hagan more drunk than that, and I really didn’t want to take over laundry duty for a month. Laundry duty sucks.”

Steve gave a distracted hum. “I find it calming.”

“I don’t know how. First you have to sort dirty clothes, which, like, ew. Then you have to use different soaps, and god forbid you mess up the point at which you put the soap in, then you have to wait around…” Steve allowed Robin’s rambling to serve as background noise as he continued to look around the room. Did all of these people work on the film? A few people in the back of the theater looked really excited, which was sort of weird. It’s not like anyone important would be showing up to this thing, right? 

The lights in the theater dimmed, and Robin quieted next to him, then slapped a hand against his arm. “Steve! Oh my god, it’s starting!” She hissed out her excitement in a whisper, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. 

His expression turned into an open-mouthed gape when the director walked onto the stage in front of the movie screen, joined by the leads in the movie- Eddie Munson and Tammy Thompson. 

“What the fuck?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m really surprised that Tammy Thompson’s manager put her in all Gucci for this event, it’s not really her style. Still, you have to admit, it’s a look.” Robin muttered next to him. Steve honestly had no clue what she was even talking about. 

Instead, his eyes were glued on Eddie Munson. “You didn’t tell me that the people were gonna be here.” Steve whispered absently, his eyes raking over Eddie’s outfit. Whoever his manager was knew how to style him, that’s for sure. His hair was all curls, styled perfectly to frame his face, and he was dressed in a floral-print black suit. He was wearing a maroon button-up underneath all the black, and the whole look made Steve… well, it made him feel some things. 

“People? What people? Oh, shit, do you mean the actors? Steve, Stevie, light of my life, that is common sense, I fear. It’s a movie premiere, the cast is gonna show up. Didn’t you see all the goth-y teens waiting outside? They’re all here to meet Eddie at the meet and greet after.” Robin put her hand on Steve’s knee as she spoke, and Steve swallowed down the sudden bout of anxiety churning in his stomach. 

The cast was here. Eddie fucking Munson was here. There was a meet and greet that was going to be happening. This whole movie premiere thing was actually a big deal, and the movie was starting, and Steve was about to see how much he actually made it into said movie. He was about to see his name on the credits at the end of the film and- holy shit, wow. Okay, he could see why Robin actually wanted to attend this thing now. 

“..and, well, that’s why I felt motivated to make this movie. Eddie, Tammy, and the rest of the cast and crew really brought life to this story. I hope that you enjoy watching it as much as we enjoyed creating it! Without further ado, here is Please Turn the Lights Off.” The Director finished his welcome then stepped off the stage with Eddie and Tammy, and Steve’s attention shifted from Eddie Munson to the screen that flickered to life. 

The movie was good. 

Like, really good. 

Like, made-Steve-cry-at-the-end, good. That’s a hard thing to accomplish. He didn’t even cry when he watched Coco. It was a close thing, yeah, but still, his point stands. He’s not quick to get emotional at movies. 

“Wow. That was wild, that scene at the end with Bobby and his manager really killed me.” Robin began speaking the second the lights came up, loud enough that Steve could still hear her over the thundering applause from the rest of the audience. “I think I spotted us in three different scenes, Steve! How cool is that? They even got our faces at one point, isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah, that’s- that’s really cool, Robs.” In truth, Steve had mostly forgotten to look for himself in the scenes with extras as he watched the movie. He did spot his face in the one instance where it had been shown, but the other two scenes that he and Robin apparently made it into, the two that she just mentioned? Steve had no idea what she was talking about. 

The director got back on stage to say a few words, then encouraged people to line up near the stage if they wanted to do a meet and greet with the cast members. Fans crowded to the front of the room in seconds, while others slowly made their way out of the theater. Steve and Robin stayed in their seats. 

“We should line up to do the meet and greet, yeah?” Robin nudged Steve’s arm, a teasing smile on her face. “I can meet Tammy, you can meet Eddie.” Her smile grew wider, and Steve groaned. 

“Robin, he’s nice to look at, yeah, but he’s also one of the biggest up-and-coming stars in Hollywood right now. I’ll feel like… I don’t know, like a lovesick fangirl going up to him and saying hi.” 

Robin shrugged at that, standing and pulling Steve up with her. “I mean, yeah, but that’s not really a bad thing, y’know? That’s why they’re here, they’re expecting that. Just, I don’t know, tell him that the scene of him having a breakdown in the bathroom made you cry, I’m sure he’ll be honored.” 

Steve allowed Robin to pull him along, but gave her a deadpan, “I’m not telling him that,” followed by a glare when she glanced back at him. 

“Well, you should tell him something. Looks like we’ll have a lot of time to figure out what that something is, seeing as we’re last in the line of at least a hundred people right now.” 

Steve grimaced at the length of the meet and greet line. It was long, yeah, and it looked like it ended with them, seeing as the theater was otherwise empty aside from those already in line ahead of them, hoping to meet the stars of the movie. 

It took almost an hour to finally reach the cast. They were lined up along the side of the stage, and each took a few seconds to sign a poster of the film that was included in the price of the ticket while chatting with the fans. Eddie was at the end of the line, next to Tammy. 

Given that Steve and Robin were the final audience members in the line, the cast began to disperse as soon as they were done signing their posters and chatting with them. By the time they reached Eddie and Tammy, the rest of the cast had left in the theater, and the theater employees had started to clean up the venue for the next showing that evening. 

Robin went straight to Tammy and immediately started gushing about her outfit. Tammy signed the poster and met Robin’s excitement with a pasted-on smile. Steve grimaced at Tammy’s rather obvious insincerity and made his way to Eddie, handing over the poster with silent anxiety. 

“Hey!” Eddie greeted him with a smile and looked down to sign the poster, then did a double take, eyes going wide when he saw Steve’s face. “Wait- do I know you?” 

“What?” Steve squeaked, eyes going wide. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “No! I mean, not really? I mean, probably not, I just- uh. I was in the movie, for, like, a second. I was an extra. You could see my face in the crowd in the scene where you were playing the outdoor show, and I guess I was in other scenes too, but… uh, I don’t know which ones. I got kind of distracted and forgot to look for myself in the movie.”

“Huh.” Eddie squinted at Steve for a moment, then his eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh yeah! You’re pink hair dude!” 

Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth dropped open in shock. “You remember that?”

“Yeah man, of course. You’ve got a hard face to forget.” Eddie winked, and Steve felt his cheeks flush. 

“Oh, uh- thanks? I guess?”

“What happened to the pink streak, anyway?” Eddie frowned as he looked at Steve’s hair, presumably searching for the now-absent color. 

“My friend Robin and I made a bet, and she had me get it after I lost. I had to dye it back to brown because I started a new job and-” Steve glanced Robin’s way, and was surprised to see her chatting with someone who was decidedly not Tammy. No, now she was talking to a blonde woman in stilettos and a power suit, who seemed charmed by Robin’s rambling. 

“-uh, and, anyways, sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, talk your ear off or anything-” Steve was suddenly very aware that Eddie was the only cast member left in the theater, and that he was probably only here because Steve wouldn’t stop talking. 

“No need to apologize! I’m having a good time chatting with you- trust me, I wouldn’t stick around if I wasn’t.” Eddie smirked. “So, you had to dye it back for work? What do you do?” 

Steve’s anxiety calmed at Eddie’s reassurance, and was practically gone by the time Eddie was asking about his job. “Oh, I’m a guidance counselor at a middle school back in New York. It’s really rewarding to get to help so many kids. Middle school is a tough time, y’know? I just like getting to be there for them, being an adult that they can talk to about all the complicated stuff in their lives.” 

Eddie’s eyes grew wide. “New York? You’re from New York? Did you fly all the way out here for this?” 

“Uh, yeah? It was my friend Robin’s idea. She’s over there.” Steve pointed to where Robin was standing with the mystery blonde woman, and Eddie’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. 

“Huh. Looks like your friend found my friend. That’s my manager, Chris.” Eddie chuckled under his breath. “Knowing her, they’ll probably be talking for a while- which is great, because that means we can chat a little longer. So, let me get this straight. You flew all the way across the country for a movie screening, for a film that you were an extra in, just… for what? The heck of it?” 

Steve crossed his arms, growing a bit defensive at Eddie’s tone. “Yeah? I mean, Robin and I, we pick up odd jobs. She’s an art teacher at my school and we really don’t have much to do during the summer months. She’s the one who got us the extra gig when the movie was filming last summer. About a month ago she saw the advertisement for this and was like, ‘when else are we going to get to a movie premiere for a movie we were in’, and I was pretty against it, but eventually she pushed me into it and- look, I know it’s stupid, but-” 

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Eddie cut Steve off. “I think it’s really nice, actually. It’s cute.���

“Oh.” Steve swallowed down the rest of his words and tucked his hands into his pockets. 

“Yeah, like, I did something similar for the first movie I was in. I think I had… one line, maybe two? I got so excited that I took a road trip to see the premiere down in Austin. I slept in my van and showed up probably reeking of weed, but it was a special moment for me. Granted, I planned on getting into showbiz for most of my life. Even though that doesn’t exactly seem like that’s your end goal, something like this can still be pretty special.” 

Steve ducked his head to hide the blush that was slowly making its way up to the top of his ears. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

Eddie nudged his elbow against Steve’s, then gave him a delighted smile when their eyes met. “So, New York? What area are you in?” 

“Hm? Oh, we’re in Albany, but given how much Robin loves traveling to the city, we should really just move out there.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he thought of the countless weekend trips to the city that they had taken.

“Ah, yeah- the city’s fun. I’ve got a place in Greenwich, actually. It’s not home, that’ll always be in Tennessee with my Uncle Wayne, but I’d say it’s the next closest thing.” He brought a hand up to his hair and began to fiddle nervously with one of the strands. “So, is it just you and Robin, then? No other roommates or, um… partners?” 

Steve shook his head, oblivious to the intent behind Eddie’s question. “Nope, just us! Robs and I moved out to New York a few years ago, and we’ve seen a few people here and there, but nothing permanent- and, honestly, nothing for a while. Robin would rather go to shows in the city than sit through awkward first dates back home, and I can’t exactly blame her, y’know? First dates suck.” Steve registered the words he said after he said them, and felt himself go red in embarrassment. He really needed to get over his whole ‘oversharing-when-nervous’ thing. 

Eddie smirked, amused, and opened his mouth to respond. Before he could, he was interrupted by Chrissy, who made her way over to them with Robin trailing behind her. “Hey guys, not to break this up, but Eds- we’ve really gotta get going. Your flight to LA leaves in two hours.” 

Eddie glanced at his watch, then gave Steve an apologetic look. “Shit, yeah, we really need to head out.” He looked down at the poster, still gripped in his other hand, and huffed out a laugh. “Damn, all that talking and I never signed this for you! Here, let me jussst-” Eddie manifested a sharpie from his pocket and scrawled his signature onto the glossy print. 

Eddie handed the poster back, his smirk having turned slightly nervous. Steve’s fingers brushed against Eddie’s when he took the poster back, and Steve bit his lip to hide the smitten smile that he knew was starting to creep onto his face. 

“I’ll, uh, catch you later.” Eddie muttered with a blush, then stepped away to join Chrissy, who led him toward the back entrance to the theater. 

Steve glanced down at the movie poster in his hand as Eddie and Chrissy walked away. His eyes grew wide when he saw what Eddie had scrawled there. 

Eddie Munson

Let’s meet up in NY, pretty boy. I’ll make sure the first date doesn’t suck ;)

315-555-2595 

Holy shit. 

Eddie Munson just gave Steve his personal cell phone number. 

Eddie Munson just called him pretty.

Eddie Munson just asked him on a date.

“Oh my god, Steve. Chrissy is, like, the best. She gave me her number! I’m sort of freaking out, I don’t know if I’ll ever meet anyone as beautiful as her ever again.” Robin sidled up next to him, her eyes still glued to the retreating celebrity and his manager. 

Steve rolled up the poster and tucked it under his arm for safekeeping. At the same time, he decided to let his shock over getting asked out by Eddie take a backseat. He could tell Robin later, and she could help him figure out what to do next. For now, he’d much rather hear about Robin’s interaction with Eddie’s manager. “Let’s go grab a bite, Robs. You can tell me all about Chris while we’re out.” 

Robin grinned and wrapped her arm around Steve’s waist. “Okay! Hey- do you still hate me for making you come all the way out here for the movie screening?” The question was clearly made in jest, and Steve couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him in response.

“Hate you? Nah, I don’t hate you. Maybe ‘despise’ is a better word choice?” 

“Steven Marie Harrington, take that back!”

“Loathe? Detest?”

“I’m never speaking to you again.” Robin could barely speak through her laughter as she pushed Steve away. 

“Nooo, whatever will I do?” Steve deadpanned his response, and earned himself another shove from Robin. 

Steve let out an exaggerated oomph, then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting his tone shift into something far more sincere. “Thanks for convincing me to come out here, Robs. It was worth the trip.” 

“Yeah? Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” They exited the front entrance of the theater and crossed the street. As far as Steve knew, they didn’t have a destination in mind, but he figured a restaurant would pop up sooner or later. “Anyways, since you’re so grateful, I fully expect to be the officiant at your wedding with Eddie.” 

Steve choked on the air he was breathing and doubled over with laughter, which sent Robin into a fit of giggles. She hadn’t even seen what Eddie wrote on his poster, but she always knew what was going on in his head, didn’t she? 

“As if, Robin. Even if, in some strange turn of events, I did for some reason marry Eddie Munson, you wouldn’t officiate. Knowing you, you’d be in tears the whole time, and I’d much rather you be my maid of honor in that case so you don’t have to try and talk through your crying. My mind is made, and no matter what you say, you’re not convincing me.” 

Three years later, Robin Buckley served as officiant of Steve and Eddie’s wedding- and yeah, she used a lot of tissues, but Steve couldn’t think of anyone better to perform the ceremony than his best friend, the person who helped him meet Eddie in the first place. 

Besides, as far as Steve was concerned, Robin Buckley would always get her way.