#like there are a MILLION more ballets out there

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

cw: modern au, chronic pain, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

At five thirty in the morning, you send Sirius a text. 

Be on time, and there’s a caramel latte in your future. If you’re late I’m giving it to Marcello. 

Marcello is the guy who comes in early every morning to resurface the ice. You actually ordered a drink for him, too, but Sirius doesn’t need to know that. 

The morning air is cool and refreshing, sweeping across your cheeks in the self-made breeze of your brisk steps. You can only have one hand in your pocket with the other holding the drink carrier, but you don’t mind the bite of cold on your fingers. You’ve always loved the sharp, clean feel of winter weather. Though Sirius complains this time of year about leaving practice just to encounter yet more cold outside, the chilly air has always made you feel alive, invigorated. It wakes you up as you walk to the rink. 

Marcello leaves the staff door open for you every morning so that you can practice early. He’s still out on the Zamboni, so you leave his drink on the front desk where he’ll see it. You know you’re not the first person to the rink, but it surprises you that you’re not the second. 

It surprises you even more to find your new coach in the off-ice room. 

Remus is lying on the floor, one knee bent and the other ankle crossed over it in a stretch you recognize. His eyes are closed and his expression pinched. His chest rises and falls with deep, measured breaths. 

“Hi.” 

You try to announce your presence softly, but Remus' eyes fly open like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. You find yourself taking a step back as though to avoid frightening him. 

“Sorry,” you say automatically, and automatically, Sirius’ For what, doll? sounds in your head like an overplayed song. You set your shoulders back and walk over to Remus, crouching to set his drink beside him on the floor. You’ve wagered your bets on a plain tea; he seems like the no-nonsense sort. “I didn’t expect anyone else here this early, but this is for you.” 

“Thanks.” Remus grunts quietly as he sits up, and you pretend you don’t hear. He takes a tentative sip from his cup. You deduce that you’ve wagered correctly when his eyes close blissfully. “I can go if you want the room to stretch.” 

“That’s alright. Plenty of room for both of us,” you say awkwardly. 

But as soon as you set your foot up on the ballet bar, you second-guess yourself. Is it difficult for him, watching you do things he can no longer do himself? You knew about Remus’ injury—everyone does—but seeing his face creased in pain doing such a simple stretch is another thing entirely. 

You watch him covertly as you bend over your leg, feeling the pleasant strain in your muscles, but Remus’ expression doesn’t change. He only stands, taking his ankle in one hand and wrapping the other around the bar as he stretches his quads. 

Remus has long fingers, you’ve noticed. Pianist’s fingers. They make you think of every routine of his you’ve seen a million times, arms and hands always outstretched to emphasize the facile grace of his movements. He was art in motion, in his day. Now you’re not sure what he is. Still lovely, but something else. 

“I wanted to apologize.” 

Remus’ voice breaks into your reverie so gently that at first you think you’ve imagined it. You look up at him, bemused, and his gaze is steady on yours. It’s that skater’s poise. Quiet, resolute. 

“I didn’t mean to shout at you yesterday,” he says. “I was frustrated because I feel like you really could get past that jump with just a tiny adjustment—” his face tenses as some of that frustration seeps back into his voice now, but Remus quells it “—but I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Sirius was right, I wasn’t telling you in a way that was helpful.” 

“It’s okay.” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean for it to, but the air in the room feels thick and awkward. You’re not used to needing to have these conversations with people on your team. You, Sirius, and your coach used to be a unit. There was no need for shouting matches and make-ups. You had years of history together; you knew how to handle each other. You miss that ease terribly now. 

“What I should have said,” Remus goes on, “is that I’ve noticed you hesitating before a lot of higher difficulty jumps. You’ll be about to go into it, and then you second-guess yourself and under-rotate. That doesn’t work on the ice.” 

You drop your gaze, nodding. “I know,” you say as you swap legs on the bar. “I’ll try to stop.” 

“We’ll work on it.” Remus’ voice softens, and you glance up to find a sheepish sort of kindness in his eyes. One corner of his mouth lifts tentatively. “And I’ll work on giving better feedback the first time around.” 

You return his smile, a heavy load in your chest lifting just slightly. It feels like the return of your cautious optimism from before yesterday’s practice, like flirting with the possibility of everything being all right after all. Maybe you can salvage the season after all. 

Sirius practically stomps into the room, dark circles under both eyes and looking like he hates the world and everyone in it. Remus’ almost-smile evaporates. 

“Here you are.” You pass Sirius his coffee magnanimously. “Thank you for being on time.” 

He takes a long sip. Once he’s finished, he says gravely, “This can’t continue.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” you promise as Remus lets his foot drop and steps away from the bar to make room for Sirius. 

“Ten minutes of stretching,” your coach says gruffly. You feel your lips purse dissatisfiedly; you take this to mean that although he’s apologized to you, he’s not over his tiff with Sirius from the day before. Remus turns from the room. “I’ll see you out there.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You manage to get through practice without bloodshed. Remus is short and businesslike, but while his pointers don’t leave much room for conversation he does take the time to make sure you understand him and he praises you when you improve. Sirius doesn’t spare many words for your new coach, though you know him saying little is likely an improvement over what he’d have to say if he did speak up. Still, he’s not exactly thorough in making sure Remus doesn’t see the smirks and derisive looks he sends your way every time your coach’s voice reaches you across the ice. The other boy pretends not to notice. 

It doesn’t escape you either that Remus has far less critiques for Sirius than for you. Sirius is more likely to get ahead of himself so that he falls out of sync with you, whereas you’re more likely to fall in general. 

You didn’t used to be like this. Just a handful of weeks ago you and Sirius were an equal match, but recent events have planted an anxiety in you that makes you bail out of your risker jumps and sabotages your routine. Remus is right; you’re hesitant. Sirius throws himself into every move, full-bodied and artful, but you just can’t do the same. Until you can catch up and get back to where you were, you’re a liability. 

You land most of your jumps, fall on more than usual, and by the time practice wraps up you know you’ll be bruised all over. If Remus is frustrated with you again, he’s better at hiding it. He only instructs you to work on whatever mental block is hindering you, promises to see you both tomorrow, and goes. 

Then Sirius can’t contain himself any longer. 

“God, what a prick,” he fumes as he puts guards on his skates. He starts undoing his laces, nails cut short for the season but still painted a shimmery black. “I hate that stupid line he gets between his eyebrows right before he lays into us. He’s like a sixty-year-old schoolteacher stuck in a twenty-something body.” 

You look down to hide a smile. “He was nicer today, though. That’s something.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, so was I. Did you lay into him, too?” 

“Didn’t have to,” you say complacently. “He apologized himself. You know, like adults do.” 

“Don’t be daft. He’s not taking the high road, he just doesn’t want to lose his job.” 

You turn to give Sirius an exasperated look, only he’s looking back at you with a similar expression. 

You know Sirius thinks you’re being too trusting of your new coach. He only wants to protect you, both of you, but something he’s never been able to grasp is that optimism doesn’t have to be blind. You can be wary of Remus, can have that same desire to protect the team you and Sirius have built together, and at the same time be hopeful that he really will be the thing you need. You’re desperate to make this work for the both of you. You’re a pair in repair, and though it was your former coach that broke you, if there’s a chance that Remus could fix things you’re ready to welcome him with open arms. 

Peter was Sirius’ friend before he was yours. He fell into coaching you both almost by accident, it felt so natural. Both you and Sirius had coaches throughout your childhoods, but it was nice to have someone around your own age, who viewed skating through the same lens as you did and could talk to you on a more personal level. Peter was your friend in a way your other coaches hadn’t been. That made his betrayal sting all the worse. 

There had been a hearing, when Peter’s texts came out. The International Skating Union had gotten involved. He’d been sharing things—tips, secrets, videos of your entire routine from start to finish—with another team. It felt odd, reading about it in the news. Almost invasive. It felt like something you should be discussing back at Sirius’, the three of you sat in your usual places around his living room, hashing it out the way you always did. But you weren’t a unit anymore. 

Sirius didn’t want another coach at all after that. You could keep each other in check, he said, and realistically anyone you hired would know all about your recent disaster with Peter. Your names were attached to one of the largest figure skating scandals the community had had in years. You saw the logic in your partner’s reluctance, but you still thought you needed an outside perspective to tell you when you both were going wrong. You needed a real coach. Then, you’d thought of Remus. 

You wish you could say it was Remus’ illustrious figure skating career that drew you to him. He was the golden boy of the sport for nearly a decade, shooting up into stardom at an unprecedented age. He earned enough medals to likely break whatever shelf his family tried to put them on, and he took home gold for Britain at just seventeen. But truthfully, it was his isolation that appealed to you. 

Remus Lupin left the figure skating community entirely after his injury. He’d returned to his hometown in Wales, reportedly to be with his family but more likely to heal—physically and mentally, from the hip dislocation that cost him Worlds and then the rest of his career. By all accounts, he would have been the last person to follow your hearing or any of the ensuing gossip everyone else you spoke to seemed to take as gospel. You had to fight tooth and nail to get Sirius to let you hire Remus, and even still he’s resistant to the addition to your team. But it’s in Sirius’ nature to expect people to hurt him; you have to be the opposite to compensate. 

“He said you were right,” you say lightly. 

Sirius blinks. “Pardon?” 

You shrug, feigning insouciance. “I don’t think it’s likely he’ll ever say it to your face, but this morning Remus told me that you were right, and he does need to communicate his feedback better. He seemed better about it today, right? I think it’s sweet that he’s trying.” 

Sirius scowls, standing while you finish packing up. “He’s kissing your ass because he knows you were the one who wanted him. He doesn’t give a shit about us.” 

“I didn’t mention anything,” you reply. “And he may not, but he definitely gives a shit about skating. I walked in on him stretching in the off-ice room this morning. It was…sad.” A small part of you feels wrong for sharing this, even with Sirius; it felt like a private moment you’d intruded on, although Remus had been stretching in a public place. “You can tell he really misses it, you know?” 

Sirius is quiet for a beat, and when you look over he’s sucking his teeth. Peering at you in that way of his, like he’s got you all figured out. 

“You should have a heart-to-heart with him about it,” he says blankly. “He seems like the sort of bloke who really enjoys a pity party.” 

“Prick.” You stand, bumping your shoulder into his roughly. Sirius wraps an arm around them to bind you to his side, walking you towards the exit. “We’re stopping for donuts on our way home. You owe me after I bought your coffee.” 

“Oi, bribery’s no good if I have to pay it back. And what would your new favorite coach say about us eating those during the season?” 

“The same as any coach; nothing, because we’re not gonna tell him.”

[chlmtsdoll]

I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF…

౨ৎ Pairing: Art Donaldson/Tashi Duncan x female reader, Art Donaldson x reader, Art x Tashi

౨ৎ Summary: after being dismissed from your ballet academy and your dreams of being a dancer come crashing down, you decide to take on a new accomplishment — becoming a tennis protege to Tashi and Art.

౨ৎ Word count: 2.4k

౨ৎ Warnings: no use of y/n, inexperienced!reader, age gap (reader in early 20’s) dilf/milf age Art & Tashi, talk of oral (F reviving), fingering, size kink ? corruption (ish), mention of masterbation, brief mention of ED, pinning Art, needy reader, I have literally 0 knowledge of sports//tennis so if everything is inaccurate I’m sorry. I’m simply just a romantic smut addict who loves these characters 🤍

౨ৎ part two | three | four

You wouldn’t have wished that full body shock sensation of that day on your worst enemy. Never in a million years would you think all that discipline, bloody feet and overextension on your body to the point of black outs and collapse would have lead to that moment — the day you got dismissed from your ballet academy.

It had been your dream since a little girl to form a stable career as a traveling ballerina. To dance on European stages and tour around different countries doing what you loved. What set your heart on fire. But when you started to grow out of your bodies potential form, now in your early twenties, the instructors had to make the final decision to cut you from your class. You could no longer dance.

No one told you that after you turned around seventeen you’d no longer be the ‘correct’ body shape to be a ballerina. Not any doctors, not your parents — it was all fine up until your twenty first birthday. But even after you got the news that you were entering a red zone, you starved, and you looked into surgeons that would make you look like the ideal ballerina, but nothing was up to the terms of the academies you had qualified for.

The depression of your once life long dream had taken a complete toll over you for a year until you had to pick yourself up again.

Somewhere at least

You tried out other hobbies that took just your hands, baking, sewing, painting. But none of it made your soul feel like it had a real purpose. You needed to compete — you needed to move, your feet needed to glide quickly but delicately all at once. You needed that power and center of stage. You wanted all eyes on you while you made your body flex with determination and a fire light in your eyes.

And that’s when you started searching for tennis coaches.

You figured with your years worth of forming around good discipline and structure in ballet, tennis was a close second to the kind of agility you needed as an athlete of some sort, you knew you were no pro. Nor maybe ever going to be. But you had to do this, it was now tennis or nothing — and you were too young and too ambitious to give up just yet.

So you found them. Her first. Tashi Donaldson.

You knew of her, being in this Industry especially with being around so many wealthier kinds of sports enthusiasts, her name was gonna come around sometimes — and her husband of course plenty, Art Donaldson.

With some friends of friends, and many emails and more emails you were able to officially meet them after a couple days of searching and applying for tennis coaching nonstop. And when that day finally came, If it weren’t for their outshining talent at what they do for the tennis world, you would of figured they were models or at least assumed they should be.

They were both beautiful in an otherworldly sense — jaws that to you could cut like knives and bodies of literal gods.

You were shorter, and more petite as most ballerinas were, so when Tashi towered over you your first meet, all the confidence and sophistication you had previously practiced for this exact moment before hand, dissolved almost immediately — you were so intimidated by the powerful essence that poured off of her, the way her short waves flowed when she turned and her shirt dresses were left unbuttoned at just the perfect degree. Not too much on display, but just the right amount of cleavage and skin showing to leave her inferior curious for more, yearning for that bit of softness to Tashi that was merely her skin.

Speaking of softness, Art on the other hand had total power to his presence, with his name in grand letters everywhere. A full Olympic gold medalist tennis superstar. You’d think it all would go to his head, but that day you first shook hands with the mesmerizing man, you felt only warmth as he took your delicate into his bigger yet soft hands. You were left to find nothing but gentle kindness behind his eyes — you even noticed a bit of brown in his perfect blue irises.

And from that moment you had already known you’d become completely and utterly obsessed with him.

Yet that was six months ago now. Quickly you moved from your once apartment in New York City that you referred to as your ‘struggling ballerina habitat’ to the Donaldson estate — it was best you’d be as hands on with your tennis as possible, according to Tashi. But nothing could of prepared you for as hands on as it would get.

It had been two weeks into your training that the couple had come to you with a proposal. Art and Tashi would make a deal, that you’d be their play thing. But mainly for Art. His wife stated it would help up his game if he had something young, girlish and sweet to distract him in the meanwhile when he got too caught up in 40 loves, and wanting to do justice to Tashi’s failed tennis career. Sometimes it got all too much, and by that, most of the time. He needed you.

And how did you need him.

Within the first month you and Art had gotten feverishly close. With all the admiring you did of him and how he came to have the sports world in the palm of his hand, his rise to fame and all the while having a wife and daughter. Your smiles and soft blushes when he caressed your cheek — how you poked fun at him for not understanding your pop culture references or slang. It all gave him a nolstagia for his youth that made his heart pump a little faster and his racket hit a little harder on the court.

He was so so beyond sweet with you, helping you with your back hands, his fingers drifting your frame from behind as he positioned your body to his liking, and his grins when your mini tennis skirts (that Tashi ordered you to wear) would rise against his clothed thigh to only reveal the bit of lace panties you had on underneath.

With all the overwhelming feelings you didn’t deny the pleasure of touching yourself at night to the thought of his short strawberry blonde waves between your fingers as his lips made out with your pussy for hours. His tongue making you let out unimaginable noises to then kiss the taste of yourself off his lips.

So you couldn’t have been more down when Tashi made you sign for your little agreement.

You didn’t care if you were nothing but a fuck to get Art’s name permanently on the forums of different Tennis courts across the country. You’d do anything for just a glimpse of him. It was all you had really. Anything for Tashi to say you did well.

Anything for them.

It all had been in return of a place for you to stay as well. With your background coming from being a young ballerina from a big city — you hardly got paid anything manageable in the slightest. So it was nothing for Tashi and Art to shower you in their riches — the best maids, cooks, dietary plans, luxury hotels with new designer sports attire waiting for your arrival on top of your own beautifully decorated room in their home and a promised bright career ahead of you.

You’d just never bother to complain for also getting to receive the kind of affection and intimacy from the two who just needed a little bit of something. You, to make them feel alive again.

Now, you were settled into your silk pajama set that was personally picked out for you by Tashi, in a dusty pink rose color — the color she kept her nails because she mentioned it drove Art crazy. Giggles and soft laughter could be heard from the grand living room as you sat across from Art before bed. Watching his grin behind folded knuckles to his face, you bit your lip softly. “I haven’t been able to do it again since.”

“You can. And you will, you just need a little motivation.” you tittered softly with a smile. Taking in the sight of the man sitting so close yet too far from you.

You two had been watching highlights of some of Arts best matches from over the years.

You loved this. Sitting and listening to him talk about his career for however long he wanted, asking questions about how it felt to be so good at a craft — it made him feel assured telling you, teaching you. His confidence raised by the easy flow of conversation you had to offer. Because that’s what you were for, keeping him in that space of authority to at least something in his life and an escape from the tough business world that had broken down a man like him too many times before. So if you were keeping him up, Tashi was keeping you in.

Motivation

You could practically hear Art murmur the word to himself in his head and he looked at you with a sly grin on his face to which you only blushed and inched closer to his presence just a few pillows away from you.

“Yeah ? You gonna serve just like I showed you on the court tomorrow, ballerina ?”

Your lips immediately perked into a silly wide smile and you giggled like a school girl at the former accusation that was now Arts little nickname for you. Your chin resting in the crease of your elbow shyly as you nodded.

“It’ll be perfect. I promise.”

Art leaned in to leave a soft and delicately placed kiss to your neck. You shivered at the sweet somberness between the two of you, eyes almost fluttering closed as time stopped for a moment — but it was all cut short when Tashi came in from tucking Lily to bed. A demeanor on her face and body language like something had been not so lovely with her at that moment.

In her pajama slip, she had grabbed the remote from the table in front of the two of you and turned the tv off.

“Say goodnight.” She spoke with a soft assertiveness and Art had stood, he left a quick kiss to your cheek that didn’t leave you satisfied but wanting to whine his name to stay. Just for a little longer. But instead you let out a quite “night” as he made his way to Tashi.

Their lips pressed in a deep and slower smooch, you watched as some saliva collected in your mouth and you swallowed almost a little too loudly.

The way Art had softened into her made your stomach churn with want. Tashi had a gentle hand to his cheek as he pecked her one last time before disappearing through the hallway and you stood as well. Tashi’s eyes were locked on yours, and something gave you the notion that you weren’t allowed to leave just yet.

It had gone quite for a second as she focused on you, and you wanted to start picking your nails right there.

“I don’t like to end the night unsure, so do you want to tell me why you were slacking off on the court today ?”

Her words were crisp and landed on you like a paper cut you hadn’t seen coming. Your throat already tightening. You knew the chances of this night ending with her giving you that same kind of kiss she gave Art, was now looking too slim. And you feared for everything.

“I-I just haven’t been feeling too good on my feet lately,” your words already weakening under the woman’s gaze. “I’ve been trying to keep my lounges quick, steady, but the arch is hard to get rid of after-“

“Look. And listen to me.” Your eyes shot up from your feet as Tashi cut you and she began, “You’re not dancing in a recital and you’re not a fucking ballerina.”

She scorned you cold and straight forward. You immediately felt merely pushed back by force at her words.

“I don’t care if you’ll need to spend extra time with your physical therapist, I want you on your feet completely and ready to go tomorrow. This is tennis. That’s your life now, so start playing it because I don’t care for wasting my time, Understood ?”

Tashi knew how the ballerina facade went — the presenting as sweet, innocent, as fragile as a tea cup to the world, yet being built up to be an absolute machine. Being able to withstand even the harshest of hits to the ground or the lashing out of choreographers and instructors till gods end. It’s why she was never soft with you when it came to tennis, just like she wasn’t with Art.

You had nodded rather quickly and you were not going to let the readied tears resting on your ducts fall. You were gonna take the taunt like a big girl and get it together — because the truth is, you had been distracted during practice today.

But not by your poor aching feet, but by the way Art watched your perfectly toned legs as you leaped and glided across that court like some well, ballerina.

How when just the sight of your hair braided in two knots with ribbons on the end just became all too much for him to bare. He pulled you aside, the chill down your spine was maddening as he whispered in your ear the kinds of things you did to him. The way you made him feel. The things you made him want to do to with your little body.

His tender and wondrous fingers had ended up clean beneath your skirt without hesitation. Brushing against the lining of your panties and you were up against Gatorade bottles and protein mix before you could form a real thought. He leaned into you, standing tall there above you. Having to raise to the tips of your toes for him to tuck his fingers were you needed him most. You could see the rare excitement of dominance take over a darker tone in his eyes as his fingers sold into your sweet aching cunt, too tight for more than a finger.

The pulse of your heat and the beat of your heart racing at an embarrassing rate. His strawberry blonde locks brushed your desperate expression with eas that you’d fall apart in his arms at any moment knowing how fragile a young thing like you had been when it was just the two of you and your defenses were at their weakest. “Mmh, Art.” You breathed out in a whine, grabbing his muscular arm rather quickly as you nearly lost balance.

“Say it. Tell me you weren’t thinking about anything other than my hand up your skirt on that court.” He slowed into your ear and you whimpered softly as another finger, long and coated with your wetness entered you at once. “I see right through you. The thoughts that wind up in that innocent little head. So desperate. So willing to give up your cunt to me…. Or Tashi.”

Playing shy and dumb up front, though he had been right.

You would bend over and take the moment they said — You had to fight back strangled moans as you felt yourself being stretched by just his two fingers. It was known to both him and Tashi that you were untouched. With strict ballet schedules, school, and endless nights staying up till two am doing chassé after chassé till your toes were sore, you hardly ever had the time for pleasure. It had been anything if kept hidden and burried deep for a ballerina of your training to be caught up exploring her sexual desires — so as of current Art still hadn’t taken you there fully. But warming you up easily with his glorious mouth and apposing fingers inside of you would start you off heavenly.

“Need it… n-need you.” you huffed as Arts hand slipped under your sports bra to squeeze your breast, quick to rub your sensitive bud under his touch as his lips passed yours. His fingers working at a rough pace at this point that you felt your stomach tighten and he reached a spot you didn’t even know had existed. A high pitched groan had left your lips and he locked with yours to keep you fairly quiet. Then just as you would feel that gracious rush of relief soon to be yours, hitting you like a flow off a mountain — that sly smile of mischief had grown on Arts lips, before pulling his hand out from your skirt, and pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Alright.. good to know.” Is all he uttered before walking away. Walking back out on that court and leaving you there, practically soaked and needing more.

Fuck

You’ve never found yourself so sexually frustrated that it was a different kind of rush you weren’t exactly prepared for. You knew Tashi was the one who loved a good game, and Art came off so easy going to the get up, not needing much for the win — till it was time to touch you or Tashi. Then it had just been all game. All teasing. All begging for more. He craved it, lived for it.

“I asked if you understood.” Tashi’s voice had you coming back to your senses and into the present. Standing in front of the woman already bored of the entire conversation.

You did know that her taking you in at all even with your background being in a completely different kind of wave from her world, was a huge risk to her career and her name. You really were almost too fucking lucky enough to be standing in the home of star athletes like she and Art. To be more intertwined with them than anyone out there. Skin to skin and an intimacy that was almost spiritual.

So with that knowledge, you truly didn’t see it being beneath Tashi to send you back right where you came from. To which that made a burn in your chest.

You couldn’t lose what you had worked so hard for, you couldn’t lose her attention and so much care even if seemed distant. You couldn’t lose Art, not when you were this close to being finally one with him this time. They believed in you enough, and they’d know when you were ready. It’s not like you had any direction before you were chosen by them anyways.

Tashi was completely right, you were no longer just some ballerina trying to make it. You were gonna be theirs to keep — they were gonna love you, and everything you did, every step and hit on that court till it hurt. You were gonna make them proud. You were going to play some good fucking tennis.

You had looked up at Tashi, doe eyed yet tired with a nod, “I understand. Completely.”

A/N: this is the first time I haven’t done full on p in v smut since I wanted to keep it short and sweet bc I plan on turning this fic into a series hopefully :) I rly loved this idea and thought it was a unique spin on the challengers uv — also want to bring in some Patrick action asp so lmk what you think or where it can go from here !! I love feedback it’s sooo appreciated <3 xoxo

[puppys-tiny-space]

🧁Games to play with your plushies/sibbies/cg's🧁

This list is mainly focused on games I like to play and aren't focused on proper pretend play but more things that follow a script of sorts as I'm autistic and don't enjoy playing differently

🩹doctor office, I love playing doctors office, I even make little patient sheets for everyone, set up a proper office, and waiting room, this games is great because there is a clear structure to play with and focus on🩹

🍨ice cream shop, ice cream shop is such a fun game, I have a Play-Doh set to make ice cream with that's really fun to play with, I like to set up my plushies in a line and give them fake money and then arrange them in groups to eat that candy together🍨

🦴puppy pound, playing things like animal shelter can be lots of fun with your plushies, you can make little introduction cards for each of them and makeup backstories, then you can lead another plushie or imaginary person through your shelter and introduce the animals🦴

🍼tea party, now this one is a classic, having real or pretend tea and cakes or other snacks with your plushies, discussing funny gossip or plushie land political issues, maybe even giving good life advice to your furry friends all this and more can be super great for playing tea party🍼

🪽funeral, this might seem morbid for some but for me it's very fun as I want to become a mortician, you can craft a pretty casket for the plushie, make a flower bouquet with paper, write a eulogy and set everything up nice and pretty, don't forget to make sure it worn make you sad though🪽

🧴beauty salon, I adore this game, giving a silly makeover to your plushies or human friends is so much fun, you can put bows in their hair, pretend to wash it, put makeup on them, paint their nails, give them silly outfits and talk about their life's🧴

🍥grocery store, playing grocery store isn't for everyone and I have to admit it's not something I like too much but for some people it can still be lots of fun, I especially like the organizing part🍥

📖library, this is a game I adore, you can make little library cards for your plushies and friends, set up books in piles, read story times to the visitors, help everyone find thr books they would like and give your recommendations📖

🌸flower store, for this game you can draw and craft lots of pretty flowers to sell to your plushies, advice them on the perfect way to put together their bouquet, add beautiful ribbons and lave to the flowers ans write nice cards for them, I think especially flowers out of pipe cleaners are amazing for this🌸

🩰ballet, now this could either mean you out on a show for or with your plushies or even going to a ballet with them, either way you can dress up beautifully and either dance together or watch a ballet on YouTube and pretend you are in a theater, I really like the Russian ballet's 🩰

Fun fact of the day: a cloud weighs around a million tonnes

[thebearer]

wait, carm accidentally snapping at teddy. maybe she’s extra clingy to you guys after willow is born and she’s been passed between sugar and richie for the past few days and she’s like “stay with you dada” and she’s crying and not putting on her shoes or something. and he’s like “Dammit Dorothea, you need to listen” and she’s screaming even more

"Teddy, please." Carmen huffed, he was balancing a clinging toddler that only wanted to climb his legs, be held and cradled all the time. He knew it was because Willow was being held all the time, the three year old didn't comprehend that babies had to be held. She just knew that she wasn't being held, and there was a tiny flare of jealousy with that.

"Up!" Teddy huffed, foot stomping on the ground. Little ballet shoes against the hardwood. Carmen had managed to wrangle her into the tights and leotard before they had to leave for her Twinkle Toes Class, but his patience was gone.

Willow had started to whimper, waking up and hungry, lips smacking and face scrunching in irritation. Carmen cursed, turning to coo at the baby. "It's alright, Wills. C'mere, sweet girl." He cradled the baby, Teddy scowling at him at the lack of attention.

Carmen fished the bottle out of the fridge, bouncing the baby while he put it in the bottle warmer. You were in the shower. He wanted to give you a moment of peace, to be able to shower for the day. You were only a month and a half postpartum, still balancing trying to heal, be a mother of two, and sleep and eat somewhere in the middle. Carmen was great, he was, always trying to stretch himself thin for you, for the girls, for the restaurant.

"Daddy," Teddy huffed, tiny lips pouting- she looked just like you. Carmen would have melted if he wasn't so frazzled already.

"What, Teddy?" Carmen huffed back, a short breath leaving his nostrils, shushing Willow's tiny gummy cries.

"Daddy!" Teddy screamed, her voice teetering from a whine to a cry- on the cusps of a breakdown.

"Dorothea," Carmen snapped, eyes cutting to her. "Don't start."

That only made Teddy cry, a wail of a cry that had your ears perking, drying off in your bathroom down the hall. Slipping on your shorts, Carmen's shirt, you padded down to the kitchen, stopping at the entrance at the sight.

Teddy was on the ground, plopped down, red faced with fury and wailing, tears streaming down her tiny cheeks. Willow decided to join her sister, a much softer cry than the three year old, but the pitiful baby gasp cry that always had your heart splitting- your boobs leaking instinctively.

Carmen looked beyond frustrated, brows furrowed, eyes darting from Teddy to Willow to the bottle, all around the kitchen. His chest heaving, teeth grit.

"Dorothea! Enough! Ok? Enough! Stop crying and go sit by the door!" Carmen roared, vein protruding out of his neck when he looked down at her.

Teddy stilled, a hiccuping, fearful gasp, looking back up at Carmen with rounded, teary eyes. Her lip wobbled, chest stuttering- Carmen never yelled at her. You gawked at him, stunned from the doorway.

"Carmen," You hissed, mouth fallen in shock.

Carmen's eyes were wide- with realization or being caught, you weren't sure. At that point, you didn't care. You knew he was on the brink of lashing out, his hands shaking and mouth stuttering. Teddy ran towards you, barreling into your legs, rubbing her wet face into your legs with loud sobs that racked her whole body. Willow wailed, jostled, upset, and still hungry.

Carmen's heart was going a million miles a minute, he felt like he might go into cardiac arrest, head spinning and stomach lurching. Your face- fuck, Teddy's face. The way her little face fell with fear. Carmen could feel spit filling his mouth, bile rising.

"I-I-"

"Step out." You grit, stern and a little hurt. Carmen wanted to sob.

"No, just let me-"

"Carmen." You snapped, hoisting a still sobbing Teddy on your hip, cradling her head into your neck. "Step out. Now."

Carmen's hands shook, putting Willow on the nursing pillow on the couch, grabbing the bottle to hand to you, eyes already brimming with tears- angry, hurt, frustrated, furious with himself. "Teddy, please, I-I didn't mean-"

"Carmen." You voice was softer this time, eyes still hard. "You need to cool down, so do we. Step out. Go on a walk."

Carmen knew you were right, stepping out of the house. He stepped onto the busy neighborhood street, seeing happy couples with their babies in strollers, dads running after their toddlers, holding them on their shoulders. Carmen felt his stomach turn, pivoting to the bushes and throwing up.

Four cigarettes and a blubbering call to Richie later, Carmen came back in. Red rimmed eyes, running nose, but there was no crying. Teddy sniffled besides you, lying on your lap while you burped Willow, her body still stuttering with tears. Carmen tilted his head back, trying to keep his own emotions in.

You turned your head, tracking him as he came over to the couch. Your own heart broke, seeing him like that. You knew Carmen was a good dad, you would never had kids with him if he wouldn't. It was an adjustment for him too. It was easier for you, you carried them, birthed them, spent all your time with them, but you still had your moments. Moments where you locked yourself in the bathroom to cry while Teddy screamed and Willow sobbed, when you wanted to pull your hair out and scream too, but you couldn't.

"Teddy Bear," Carmen cooed lightly, catching her attention. He tried to choke back the sob that clawed out of his throat when she whimpered, a pitiful sniffle, curling into your lap.

You ran a soothing hand down her hair, watching them carefully. Carmen crouched in front of her, eye to eye. "Teddy, I-I'm sorry I yelled." Carmen shuddered. "I should not have ever yelled at you like that. That was very mean of me."

"Yeah." Teddy agreed, sniffling into your leg, face still half concealed. "You hurted my heart."

You watched Carmen's face crumble, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder lightly. He ran a hand down his face, hiding behind it, while he tried to regain his composure. "I know." Carmen nodded, clearing his throat lightly. "That wasn't good of me to do, at all. And I'm very sorry."

Teddy hesitated for a moment, turning up to you. "Sometimes, Mommy and Daddy yell when we're hurt too. When our brains hurt." You explained simply. "That's not ok, but just like you yell, we yell too. And we shouldn't. Should we?"

"No." Teddy agreed, pushing up on your thigh. You tried not to groan at the tiny hands prodding into your flesh. "Not 'sposed to yell at friends." She looked at Carmen pointedly, repeating some Ms. Rachel or Sesame Street episode.

"You're right, Teddy." Carmen nodded, running a hand down her cheek gently, chest loosening when she didn't flinch or pull back. "I'm very sorry, baby."

You gave Teddy a look, soft but pointed. She was stubborn, a terrible trait she inherited from Carmen, and even at three, she was his carbon copy. "What do you say, hm?" You said softly.

"'s ok." Teddy sighed heavy, dramatic. You fought an eye roll, catching Carmen's tiny smile.

"Can I have a hug?" Carmen asked, arms stretching out, nearly falling back when she launched herself in them. The little shit, Carmen thought, but he held her close, rocking her longer than he should have.

He looked over her head at you, your soft smile while you rocked Willow in your arms. "We're gonna be a little late for dance." Carmen looked at the clock. "Do you still want to go today, Teddy, or-"

"Yes!" Teddy squealed, squirming out of his arms and bounding towards the door.

Carmen stood, leaning over to kiss you, sweet, an apology. You let his forehead rest against yours. his hand on Willow's back, grounding himself for a moment. He needed it, needed it to feel forgiven for himself.

You stood, watching them leave out the door. "You need anything?" Carmen asked, patting his pockets for his wallet and keys.

You shook your head. "No. Have fun, Teddy. Dance pretty. Point your toes." You cooed.

Teddy spun for you, dramatic and nearly walloping Carmen's crotch which made you laugh, his eyes bulging and nearly missing the hit. "Be back later. Text me if you need anything." Carmen muttered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Daddy, can we get ice cream after?" Teddy asked, spinning around Carmen's hand down the cobbled steps.

"Carmen." You warned, eyeing him. You knew he'd give in. He always did.

"We'll see. If you dance good, then we might get yogurt." Carmen responded, winking at you before shutting the door.

You pretended to be irritated, huffing at him lightly when Teddy came home with chocolate around her mouth, a dribble on her leotard, but even then you couldn't be too mad. She had him wrapped around her finger, all his girls did.

[allfearstofallto]

Illusion

Yandere! Lyney x Fem,Dancer! Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: if this story seems similar to "I wonder if you look both ways..." It's cause this is the original. I scrapped it, but when reading it again I realized that I was very stupid to do that cause I like it. They're sisters, but not twins, they both can be enjoyed.

A magician's job is to lie. To convince you that there are wonders of the world that the human eye can't decipher. To entertain and entrance an audience of people, all while they stare in awe. Their eyes having a look of simultaneous confusion and scrutiny, they'd try to pick the trick apart, only to fail and be even more impressed by their inability to solve the puzzle. The job of a magician is to endure all of that inspection from prying eyes, but still make it look captivating.

Your job was to draw attention. That's what Lyney told you the day you were hired. They were set to perform at the opera house again, the biggest stage in Fontaine, but this time it would be an even more grand performance, this time, there would be no issues. With an area so large, they needed to maximize as much space as possible, there didn't need to be a moment of time where the audience had to question what was coming next. That's where you came in.

When the music came to a crescendo, cymbals crashing and violins singing at their loudest harmony, you'd be dancing, leaping all over. Graceful as a swan, but with enthusiasm that made your moves look more playful. Hopefully that would be enough to keep the eyes on you as Lyney rushed to the other side of the stage to complete the performance in an escalation.

You'd never done something like this before. Actually, you'd never danced professionally. Not yet at least. This would be your first real show. A fresh face right out of ballet school with nothing to your name, but a few school performances, none of which you were granted the leading role for. Who would give you a chance? Who else, but Lyney and Lynette who needed a dancer on rather short notice.

Lyney, who said your dancing was mesmerizing. But not in his usual, eccentric voice that would draw the crowd. He was talking quietly, in a breathless whisper as he spoke. Mesmerizing. His eyes glued onto your form as you panted after your audition, wide and entranced. You gave them a nervous bow and a heartfelt appreciation before exiting stage left. What you felt like was a mediocre performance where you messed up too much, was what landed you your first real gig.

Your choreo was simple, most of it you came up with yourself, with the twins giving minor input here and there. Raise your leg here, jump there, when you twirl, go in this direction. It was much easier than the strict, uptight teachings of school, where your instructors insisted that the real world would be harsher than they were. You weren't needed for a good majority of the performance, so nothing especially skillful was required until the very end.

“I'd like to see an addition to our set,” Lyney announced. His hands on his hips, he spoke proudly, but while sneaking quick glances towards you, “I feel like we're not utilizing our new resident dancer enough. I think we need to add a slight change to the choreography.”

There was no issue with this, they were your employers after all. You did your best to make it known to them that you were flexible in every aspect. It was their show. Anything they needed to be done, you'd do your best to accommodate.

The move the blond added was simple. As you stood on your toes on one foot, your other leg would be out straight behind you. Lyney would step forward to take your hand, then he would walk around you, turning you both in a slow circle while addressing the audience to prepare them for his next illusion. Like a ballerina trapped in a music box, you spun to the creeping swell of the music alongside him.

The addition was not even close to difficult, a move you'd done a million times before and would probably do a million more in the future. But this was the first time that you'd touched Lyney. The separation between you two gave you no reason to do so. His hands were cold, yet clammy and it was only when you were this close to him, that you noticed he smelled of plums. You could feel his heart beating in his fingertips and even see a little sweat on his forehead, you chalked it up to nerves though. Even those who have performed a thousand times before can fall victim to tension.

“Would you mind if I put my hand on your waist when we did that move,” he asked you one day between practices. He was hesitating, but still playing up his confident attitude.

A hand on your waist was nothing. You'd had to be close to other dancers plenty of times, and the turn did look a bit awkward with Lyney just having his hand at his side, but you thought that that would be the ample time for him to do a quick card trick or sleight of hands to spice things up, “That would be alright.”

The turn was practiced with the change. To you it felt no different, like an average day back at the academy. The real difference was Lyney himself. With that gentle hand on your waist, so soft it felt like he was hovering his hand over your body and not touching you at all. His cheeks had reddened, the first time you'd ever seen the great magician Lyney blush and you could feel him trembling, but just barely, like he was shivering from cold.

Eye contact with your partner is good when you're dancing a duet. It gives the appearance of chemistry, but eye contact with a crowd is mandatory when engaging with them. Despite this, for the entire duration of the turn, Lyney’s vibrant purple eyes would be locked with yours, not looking away for a second, not until the spin was complete and it was time for your solo.

Even you couldn't bring yourself to hold his gaze, not with the strange way he was smirking. Midway through the spin, when your back was facing the audience, you'd look down to not have to be staring at him anymore, a move that made him squeeze your hand to the point of causing pain. You held back a yelp to keep from causing a scene, it was an accident, it had to have been. He wasn't realizing his own strength.

When he let go, you began your energetic dance, twirling around the floor while music vibrated at your feet. You could hear the sound of Lyney's prop going off, the signal that the song would end in a triumphant climax and the show was over. You dropped from your ending pose and turned to see the remnants of the ending. Realization hitting you that the confetti had fired, but Lyney wasn't there.

Rather, he was still close to you, having only taken two steps back and seemingly frozen in place right there. Lyney had missed his cue. He was a perfectionist. Even though he knew things would and could go wrong, and he was a bit of a stickler when it came to things like this. It was the big moments, the parts where the audience would be in the most awe. With flashes, pops, and bangs to draw their attention, then he'd be there to take the brunt of the cheers. These moments were some of the most important.

The way he stood there behind you, eyes on you like you'd put a spell on him. Barely moving, barely blinking, like he was trying to drink in every piece for your form. He shook himself from this trance rather quickly, giving an embarrassed smile, “It appears that I've fallen for the distraction,” he laughed rather brazenly, “Well at least we know she's good at taking the attention! Let's take a break and start from the top again, yeah?”

There was a unanimous choir of groans that filled the room while Lyney chuckled. You were rather grateful for the break. You needed a moment to breathe and collect yourself. Most importantly, to think of what had just happened. The rational part of your brain wanted to tell you that you were overthinking, that Lyney wasn't acting strange at all, but the paranoid part of you couldn't help, but notice the way he stared. Not just when you were dancing, but whenever he got the chance to.

You'd look over and see bright purple eyes on you, seemingly unblinking. If you caught him in the act he'd give you a smile and a wave, making you feel as if you'd misunderstood. But that didn't stop the sinking feeling in your chest, he was acting normal, but intuition was telling you that something was off.

Almost as if he knew you were thinking of him, Lyney appeared. He stood a little too close to you, that gentle smile on his face. “Sorry for messing up back there,” he whined a little, then rested his head on your shoulder.

You flinched from his touch and tried to step away from him, but his arm snaked itself around your waist before you could. And Lyney was much much stronger than he looked. A nervous chuckle left your lips.

“It's alright, it's just practice after all,” you assured him.

“You're right,” he sighed. It felt like his hand was sinking, lowering to your hip while he continued the casual conversation, “I just want to impress you.”

Words got caught in your throat as you tried to choke up a response. What were you supposed to say? What could you say? A part of you wanted to brush this off as flirting, maybe you'd given him the wrong impression with something you'd said or done, but you couldn't even open your mouth to tell him otherwise.

“I have something for you,” Lyney gave a signature grin, lifting his hat from his head. Almost immediately a few cards fluttered down onto the floor around him while he gave them a confused, almost embarrassed stare, “Well that's not right,” he joked. He was performing. Right in front of you, Lyney was putting on a little show to charm you. Reaching into his pockets and pulling out much too large objects, only to magically put them back while cursing comically.

“There we go!” He cheered while holding a single rose that he'd managed to yank from his sleeve. He reached it out to you, waiting for you to grab it. The bud was surprisingly real, usually this trick was performed with fake flowers, the real ones would die too quickly. When you went to take it, he flicked the flower, making that singular rose turn into a bouquet. So close to the magic, but your mind couldn't decipher how he'd done it, even you were dumbfounded, “One isn't enough for you.”

You held the bouquet in awe as Lyney walked away proudly. He stepped backwards the whole time, not taking his eye off of you for a second until practice was set to start again, but this practice was different. He was finding more and more ways to sneak glances at you and more ways to brush up against and touch you.

The day of the performance was one that was considered nice in Fontaine. There was rain, but it was a light drizzle, light tears from the hydro dragon. It was believed that a good performance on this day would cheer him up.

And a good performance Lyney was set to give. You were backstage in a costume so tight it practically corrected your already good posture, and with so many sparkles, you were convinced that if the lights hit you the wrong way it'd blind the audience. He was most impressed with what he'd chosen for you to wear, stealing glances at you as you went through the choreo once more.

The lights felt hot. That's all you focus on as the show began. The acclaim of the crowd blended in with the vibrant music and the only thing you could think about were how hot the lights were. But you still performed. Your simple moves first. Light spins and little jumps, placeholders as Lyney and Lynette mesmerized the audience.

You did your best to keep up, they seemed to be performing even stronger now that there was focus on them. Your heart was pounding as the time came closer and closer to your solo, the idea of messing up suddenly grazed your mind. But before your solo, there was Lyney.

He stepped up to you, not looking away for a second. His chest was rising and falling rather quickly, he was tiring himself out, but his actions were still fluid. You reached your hand out for him to take and he did, just as you'd practiced.

Only this time before the turn began, he lifted your hand to his lips, placing a kiss against it. The urge to snatch your hand away was crushing. Confusion and fear filled your head. This wasn't a part of the show. This was never practiced before. Had something changed without being announced to you?

“Everyone! Thank you for coming tonight,” Lyney called to the audience followed by a round of applause for him, “The next trick will be my last and I'm so sorry to leave such a gorgeous crowd, but I want everyone to give a round of applause to my ma chérie! Thank her for being here as well!”

Your eyes danced around in confusion, trying to find who he was talking about as the crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers, only to realize that he was looking at you. To pour more salt into the wound and reiterate that he was talking about you, he lifted the hand he was holding, an action you could only let him do as bewilderment set in.

With those vibrant eyes still on you, he faced you, still smirking. He grabbed you by the waist then pulled you towards him, leaning down to place a kiss upon your lips. You couldn't hear anything over the cheers and screams of the audience, couldn't even hear your own heartbeat. But you felt it. Felt that heavy pounding as Lyney stroked your cheek in a romantic gesture before marching off to complete the set.

The music. As your head swirled and your eyes lost focus, you tried to pay attention to the music. It was time for your solo. You danced. Danced like hell, danced the choreo you created as the music swelled. But it wasn't really you dancing, more muscle memory than thought. And then it was over. Lyney appeared on the other side of the room, confetti was fired, and there was a standing ovation from the crowd. Everything was perfect.

Everything except your fearful face. The tears your eyes. Your look of worry as you looked back at your fellow members, then taking their bows as the curtain fell. They seemed so normal about what happened.

“What the hell was that?” You managed to ask, but instead you were only met with confused looks.

“What ever could you mean, ma chérie?” Lyney had taken your hand, but you pulled it back quickly, the watchful eyes of the audience no longer swaying you.

“This!” You gasped. You felt crazy trying to motion to everything around you, everything that was wrong, “All of this! You kissed me out there!”

“What's the problem with that?” It was Lynette talking now, her usual calm demeanor not seeming to be perturbed by your hysteria, “A kiss was always in the script.”

You gulped down saliva, trying to stop your beating heart and shallow breathing. Everyone was so calm and collected. Yet here you were, confused and practically causing a scene.

“Are you alright, ma chérie,” Lyney asked, stroking your cheek again. There was a look of genuine worry on his face, but all you could think about was that name. That fucking name. Has he always called you that? “You seem rather upset? What bothers you?”

“None of this is making sense,” you muttered. But you weren't really talking to him, more trying to calm yourself. Being surrounded by people who insisted upon lying to you was making doubt swirl in your mind. Had you misunderstood something? Were you truly the one confused? In your heart of hearts, you knew the truth, yet here you were, still being told otherwise.

Around you everyone was doing as normal. The stage hands had already begun packing up, with you standing there dumbfounded. You're sure you would've stood there until the end of time, had Lyney not taken your hand and begun to pull you out of the opera house.

The air of fontaine still had that salty smell to it, but the light drizzle had stopped. Your performance had pleased the hydro dragon, you supposed, yet you now were the one with tears in your eyes.

“I was thinking, ma chérie, how about you join our troupe permanently,” Lyney’s voice sounded like he was underwater in your ears, yet you somehow understood him perfectly. His question was just giving you the illusion of choice as you knew the answer he was going to make you take. A magician’s job is to lie, after all.

[devoutvesta]

A Deep Dive Into Disney’s Most Underperforming Princess

Princess Aurora can’t even be described as controversial. To most, she’s simply boring, too passive, and a continuation of the bland cycle of white princesses who wait around for magic or a prince to save them. Although no one hates her, they find her irritating at the worst, uninteresting at best. In the fifties, they must have thought the same thing. Sleeping Beauty was a commercial failure, and led to company wide annual loss. Sleeping Beauty had followed several other financial flops, such as Bambi and Alice in Wonderland, the latter costing Disney around half a million dollars. Due to her lack of popularity, Aurora may be one of the most neglected Princesses. Many cling to her out of nostalgia, or because she has a nice design, and they find it hard to defend their love for the movie. But the movie’s turbulent history and the amount of detail that went into Aurora herself is what really makes her so incredibly fascinating.

Starting with her design, Disney hired Marc Davis as the supervising animator for Aurora. He also animated Maleficent. The intention was for them to be realistic enough to be placed against the heavily detailed backgrounds of the movie. Davis had embraced this artistic direction, while many of the animators found it, and especially Aurora, laborious and tiring to work on. Both Maleficent and Aurora had to be refined and dynamic. Davis was Disney’s go-to animator for ‘pretty girls’, examples being Tinkerbell and Alice. His knowledge of anatomy and the human body brought both Aurora and Cinderella to life, two of Disney’s most visually iconic characters. Davis had also incorporated Art Nouveau and Art Deco into Aurora’s design, while the tapestry-like art style of the movie was chosen by Eyvind Earle, who was inspired by pre-Renaissance European art. The score and songs were based on Tchaikovsky’s ballet.

Aurora alone required more effort and attention to detail than any princess before her. It took Walt Disney and his team three years to choose a voice actress. They nearly scrapped the project until they discovered Mary Costa, but Disney himself avoided interacting with her in person early on in the project, fearing that she’d influence his vision of the movie.

Aurora was loosely based on her voice actress. Her appearance and her habits (such as gesturing when speaking and singing) were both incorporated into Aurora’s animation. She was also drawn to resemble both her live action model, the same one as Cinderella’s, Helene Stanley, and actress Audrey Hepburn. Davis took inspiration from Audrey Hepburn’s slender physique and elegant demeanour.

In the book Multiculturalism and the Mouse: Race and Sex in Disney Entertainment, author Douglas Brode referred to Aurora as “a model of modern (50’s) female glamour” and compared her to Brigitte Bardot. He also compared her gown to the work of Christian Dior.

As a character, she was described by Nerve as being “the apex of women who made no choices for themselves.” Aurora is a member of the “Golden Era” of Disney heroines, the original Princess trifecta. Her dreams are the same as those before her. But it’s possible that Aurora’s dreams of true love derived from the need for companionship outside of her three fairy godmothers.

On their website, Disney describes her as, “graceful and kind. She knows that a wonderful future awaits, if you just have the courage to dream it. Aurora enjoys using her imagination and sharing stories with her forest friends. She is also loyal in her relationships -- to her animal friends, her fairies, and her kingdom. Aurora believes in a wish and remains hopeful that she will find the adventure she is looking for.”

Walt Disney himself described Aurora as being “a very layered character/different. She’s calm, yet playful. She has a sense of humour, and she has an imagination.” We can not argue that she was considered layered through the lens of the fifties, because many critics disliked all three of the original princesses for their passive personality, or lack thereof. But from the perspective of the team working on the show, they saw much more to her.

This was the film that Walt Disney worked his hardest on, it took ten years to complete. It was also the very last Princess film he was involved in. Her ‘layers’ were very much intentional. Disney tried to do the same thing with Cinderella.

With Cinderella, they attempted to make her less passive than Snow White, and they showed this through her rebelling against her abusive stepfamily. Maurice Rapf said, "My thinking was you can't have somebody who comes in and changes everything for you. It can't be delivered for you on a platter. You've got to earn it. So in my version, the Fairy Godmother said, 'It's okay till midnight but from then on it's up to you.' I made her earn it, and what she had to do to achieve it was to rebel against her stepmother and stepsisters, to stop being a slave in her own home. So I had a scene where they're ordering her around and she throws the stuff back at them. She revolts, so they lock her up in the attic. I don't think anyone took (my idea) very seriously."

The toned down version of Cinderella, although rebellious in her own way, is still toned down. That part of her character was written out. In comparison to what she would have been, she is passive. Aurora and Cinderella are both less passive than their predecessors, but passive nonetheless. All three of them are the staple damsels in distress.

However, Mary Costa described Aurora as “very strong”, citing her urge to defy her guardians as a display of independence and an example of her strength. Aurora was raised by three women, and had never met a man in her life. Costa believed that because of this, she was ‘innately romantic’ as opposed to lonely or depressed with her sheltered life. To quote, “there was a certain part of her that maybe she didn’t realise, that was just so romantic and maybe expecting something that–she didn’t even know what.”

She believed that her being raised by three older women rather than her parents made her “a little bit older, and yet, she…had this young, outreaching spirit.” Author Douglas Brode points out that the fairies’ independent raising of Aurora mirrors “precisely that sort of women’s commune numerous feminists experimented with throughout the seventies.” Aurora living in an isolated, female-only space, with female authority, is reminiscent of the bold and liberating radical feminist movement. In her own way, as a peasant, she was independent. And that independence and autonomy was taken from her upon discovering that she was royalty and betrothed to a prince. She was leaving her home and the presumed man of her dreams behind, and not of her own free will.

Aurora had enjoyed her simple life, it had fulfilled her, even if she desired more. She had dreams of finding romantic love, which she talks about in the movie’s song ‘I Wonder’. Additionally, her close relationship with animals demonstrates her loving and kind personality. She has a whimsical imagination, and it’s scenes like the ones from Disney’s Enchanted Tales series and ‘Once Upon a Dream’, that would support Costa’s claim of her being a romantic. Where she’s changing in and out of pretty gowns with a magical wand, and giggling to herself. Or dancing happily with the forest animals, thinking about her imaginary prince. In ‘Keys to the Kingdom’, she proudly sings about wishing to make decisions with her heart.

Her independence is demonstrated on multiple occasions in Disney’s discontinued Enchanted Tales: Follow Your Dreams. Aurora graciously accepts responsibility of her kingdom while both her and Philip’s parents travel away for a business trip. All on her own, she is determined to get all of her Princess duties finished on time, the hard way. She refuses to take the easy way out, time and time again, even when she doubts herself. She works harder than even her father, who would take the easy way out by signing royal documents without reading them. Even when Meriwether gives her a magic wand to help her out, she reads and fills out every royal form diligently, and helps out all of her subjects. She manages to complete her tasks on time and throw a banquet for her family and Philip by the time they return. The lesson here is to ‘stick to it’ and to ‘persevere’. But her insistence on doing everything on her own is shown once again in A Kingdom of Kindness, where she must plan a surprise party for Philip. The three fairies attempt to help her, but she continues to tell them that she wants to do it on her own. This series was cancelled, and it is difficult to find any clips of it online. But this short-series gives us some insight into Aurora’s character.

She is assumed to be the protagonist by most, but many consider the three fairies to be the protagonists. They help move the story along, they protect Aurora, and they have distinct, in-your-face personalities. Many consider Aurora authentic, or the title character, but whether she is the protagonist or not has never been agreed upon. Her lack of role in the story has been criticized by many. But some take it as an allegory for the lack of control

The most lengthy debate surrounding Aurora has to do with how feminist her character is. She may have been an improvement from the previous princesses, but she is not regarded as a particularly feminist character.

The three original princesses, all being pale-skinned European princesses with a naive and endlessly forgiving (an unrealistic standard), sends a message to their viewers that this is what princesses should look like, how they should behave. All three classic princesses are deeply intertwined with Disney’s long history of racism and bigotry. In an attempt to amend this, Disney has released back to back live action remakes of their movies, all receiving mixed reviews. Maleficent was Sleeping Beauty’s remake, focused on a maternal relationship between Maleficent and Aurora. Many people interpreted the scene where Maleficent’s wings get cut off in her sleep as sexual assault. This inclusion made many survivors of sexual assault feel represented by the character.

From my perspective, the original Sleeping Beauty is technically a movie centred around women. A teenage girl lives with her three surrogate mothers, who end up saving her in the end from the female antagonist. Although Prince Philip’s role in the story is still a large part of what moves the plot along. It is Philip who is captured, as Maleficent knew that he would go looking for her. He courted Aurora, defeated Maleficent with the help of the three fairies, and kissed the princess awake. But he still doesn’t get as large of a role, or nearly as much screen time, as the three fairies.

In short, both the movie and the princess fascinate me. And although there is depth if you squint, a character does not need to be fleshed out to be lovable, or at least endearing. Aurora is my favourite Disney Princess, and I find the history behind her and the film to be more interesting than what meets the eye.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Cyd Charisse (The Bandwagon, Brigadoon, Singin’ in the Rain)—LEGS LEGS LEGS I would sell my soul for the legs of Cyd Charisse - she oozed style and glamour and sex appeal!! And she could DANCE! She was dancing next to the greats - Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire but they are never who you're looking at because why would you when you can look at her. I will only sit through too long ballet breaks for her. If there was any woman who you could call sex on legs it was her. These dances are everything to meeee (she comes in at the minute mark) and this dance too of course is iconic. In the words of Fred Astaire 'When you've danced with Cyd Charisse you stay danced with'

Rosaura Revueltas (Salt of the Earth)—She was a Mexican actress who is best known for starring in salt of the earth, an amazing pro-labor movie made by blacklisted filmmakers. She also starred in the Mexican remake of madchen in uniform, one of the first representations of lesbian romance onscreen. She was really dedicated to making progressive films and was also such an incredible actress and artist I truly believe more people should know about her and her work.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Cyd Charisse:

Arguably the Best female dancer of her time, she supposedly insured her legs for $5 million dollars. Stole the show whenever she had a dance number, even if she went uncredited. Musicals started to go out of fashion so unfortunately she didn't have as many big roles as she should have, but those she did are unforgettable. The Broadway Melody number in Singin' in the Rain - the green dress!

Incredibly, Cyd Charisse only started learning to dance as a rehab exercise to strengthen her body after a childhood bout of polio. She was in high demand as a dance partner, Fred Astaire called her beautiful dynamite and said "When you've danced with her, you stayed danced with". She was one of a few leading ladies to dance with both Astaire and Kelly, declaring them both delicious. Kelly apparently was stronger, while Astaire was more coordinated. She also said her husband would always know who she had been dancing with because Kelly left her bruised, while Astaire didn't leave a mark. She's better known for her dance numbers today, but she was a leading lady in her time! Her Scottish accent in Brigadoon leaves a lot to be desired, but compared to the other actors in the movie, it's almost good. She appeared in The Harvey Girls alongside Judy Garland and Angela Lansbury in her first speaking role, but she really burst onto the scene with Singin' in the Rain and her infamous Broadway Melody Ballet number with Gene Kelly (no one could handle a length of fabric like Cyd Charisse). She was brought in because Debbie Reynolds wasn't really a dancer and Kelly was notoriously a stickler about his Vision. After that she starred opposite Astaire in The Band Wagon, which was a bit of a flop but created some enduringly incredible dance numbers. She went on to star in a number of MGM movies, and was one of the last of the Studio era stars to remain on contract. Since we've got up to 1970, I'm including her opening routine in The Silencers (1966) to show just how long she was making a splash - she's into her 40s here and still a siren:

and of course, the iconic Broadway Melody Ballet -

Photos do not do Cyd Charisse justice, unfortunately, because she is at her hottest while dancing, which she was exquisitely good at. Just go watch her first number in Singin' in the Rain, in that green dress; nothing I could say here will be more convincing that that.

She had amazing legs, and she knew how to use them! You probably know her best from the dream sequence in Singin' In The Rain. She was such a stunning dancer, and all her dance scenes are hard to look away from.

Dancing in the Dark clip:

She's an amazing dancer and my favorite from the period. Here's her and Fred Astaire in the Band Wagon:

I just like a woman who's there to be really incredibly good at dancing.

One of the most talented female dancers in Hollywood history, but what sets her apart from other competitors for that title is that she...umm...well let's be blunt, she was the dancer who put sex into it. The one who said "Hey, you know that A+ leg tone that naturally develops from doing this for a living? Why don't I let people see that? Like at every opportunity?" She reportedly insured her legs for five million dollars after hitting it big, which just goes to show that fame makes you crazy. It should have been ten million.

She could pirouette in pointes or tear it up in taps. Fred Astaire called her "beautiful dynamite" and wrote, "That Cyd! When you've danced with her you stay danced with." Gene Kelly partnered with her three times. Her legs were (reportedly) insured for $5 million in 1952 ($57.8 million in 2024 dollars)! Everyone in this poll will be iconic, but for raw physical grace, Cyd is up there with the best.

Legs for days, beautiful dancer in the most iconic scenes of Singin in the Rain. She's glorious. As some guys sung to her in It's Always fair weather, 'baby you knock me out!'

No additional propaganda was submitted for Rosaura Revueltas. Please send me some.

[luviestarz]

choi beomgyu fic recs!

✿ a night to remember — choi beomgyu - @jeontaeil-archived (beomgyu takes you out on a lovely date to his old workplace and after hours of having fun, neither of you are quite satisfied. too impatient to wait till you get back home, or to his car in the least, you don’t think twice before getting down and dirty right then and there. at the end of the day, how many people can proudly admit that they’ve fucked in a trampoline park?)

✿ airport crush | choi beomgyu NSFW - @boba-beom (while waiting 4 hours for your next flight, you see a cute guy at the airport and decide to kill some time.)

✿ a star called you | c.bg - @scintillasofbeomgyu (yn and their friends run the campus radio for which yn is the host of the evening show “dear sputnik”, where they share stories and hope to create a healing space for all students— even though many don’t listen to it. little does yn know, their biggest fan, angel313, is choi beomgyu— the boy they’ve silently had a crush on for the past four years.)

✿ nap of a star - @blue-jisungs (you’re taking a nap on your friend’s lap)

✿ sk8ter boi -> c.b - @gyusrose (you never thought in a million years to be attracted to a boy like beomgyu. His baggy clothes, scrappy shoes, long hair just wasn’t a click with your elegant dresses, tight skirts, ballet dancer- self , but somehow he managed to steal your attention.)

✿  stoner!bestfriend!beomgyu x fem!reader - @universecorp (as much as beomgyu tries to deny falling in love with you, even after he claimed you saved him from believing his whole purpose of life was to be bad luck, his heart cannot tell a lie.)

✿ honeymoon - @beomsight (thoughts about how you and bf!beomgyu are in that honeymoon phase where you’re constantly all over each other)

✿ who’s home? - @iknowyuu (reader's guardians unexpectedly come home in the middle of a cuddle session.)

✿ sweet. - @tyunlatte (beomgyu is whipped for the reader, that's it. that's the plot. just something short and sweet to make your hearts ache.)

✿ who’s that girl! - @h00nerz (after coming home from vacation to discover your boyfriend of over a year cheating on you, you find yourself to be in search of a new place to live. lucky for you, your friend’s cousin is moving across the state, leaving a room open that’s yours for the taking. the only problem? it means you would be staying with three guys.)

✿ a lost bet! - @heart2beom (you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.)

✿ strawberry kisses - @tyunlatte (when you accepted your boyfriend's sweet request to do his makeup, you weren't expecting the fiery turn that your little makeup session was going to take)

✿ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - @sungbeam (gamer/streamer!choi beomgyu x f!reader)

✿ call you later - @heart2beom (beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street?)

✿ forever only you. - @mazeinthemoon (when an old friend draws your attention away from your boyfriend, he can’t help but get jealous)

✿ [🐯] i got you - @qqtxt (the best parts of beomgyu's morning always involve you)

✿ white dress - @fairyyeo (i recommend reading this!!!! pls go read its so good)

✿ photobooth. - @ev3rm0re-q (even though you and beomgyu have been together for three months, you two have yet to share a kiss. on his day off, the two of you venture outside and come across a photo booth. perhaps a few pictures might finally motivate the both of you to take action.)

✿ tokyo - choi beomgyu - @beomie3 (the neon-lit towers which surround you are mighty bright. but in his eyes, you shine brightest. the adventures of two lovers in tokyo. ~coming of age film~ vibes.)

✿ strawberry chapstick | choi beomgyu - @lluringli

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| You're A Weapon; And Weapons Don't Weep ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After Bucky discovers that your once thought to be dead older brother is HYDRA's new super soldier, you're chosen to go on a mission with the team.

Warnings: **PLEASE READ** This fic contains death. If the idea of unaliving someone can possibly trigger you, please do NOT read this. Anxiety attack, cursing, angst, random sprinkles of fluff, use of y/n.

Word Count: 4.7

A/Ns: It has been way too long, but I finally got to write for my BBWWS again. I have a feeling there won't be too many chapters left for Bucky and his Sunshine. But I have been working on other ideas and another series is in the process. I hope you enjoy reading. I love you all! The messages, comments, reblogs, likes, etc. literally give me life and inspired me to come back and get into writing all over again. Enjoy your weekend, besties!!

Previous Part // Masterlist

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Any shred of hope that life would be returning back to normalcy remotely anytime soon got washed away by the tidal wave that was the news of your brother being the new super soldier for Hydra.

Tony and Steve called for intel meetings that basically became a fulltime job. At first it felt like an interrogation. They questioned you, curious as to why you would apply for an internship at The Compound. While the circumstances did seem suspicious, they eventually were able to rule out any foul play on your part.

The gatherings soon turned into wanting to know every intricate detail that they wouldn't be able to look up or hack out of any system. From dawn to dusk, the two men asked about your childhood together- trying to connect the pieces as to who Luke is, or was. Bucky stayed silently by your side the entire time and offered a stabilizing hand when things got overwhelming to discuss. But it also didn't slip by you that he focused on each and every detail, noting the intel for this mission.

After being able to specify things so minute; such as your brothers favorite books, favorite teacher from grade school, or the fact that he likes the color green- but not just any green, Sacramento green, because it reminded him of the vines that grew around the windows of your grandparents cottage that you would spend the majority of your summer's at as kids, you also got chosen to go on this mission. There was some minor pushback from the team, but ultimately Bucky took responsibility for you. You knew that he would keep you safe, even if it meant putting the part of his very soul that he felt remained on the line for you.

To say that the training was brutal would be an understatement. While the others had an entire lifetime to perfect their craft and years working alongside one another in unity, you had only a matter of weeks. You were thrown into a constant rotation of being educated on the newest technologies developed by Tony, boxing and going over endless tactical strategies with Steve, knowledge of weaponry with a hint of ballet to stay light on your feet with Nat... pure exhaustion wouldn't begin to describe it.

The day came when intel showed the Swiss Alps would be first on the mission log. Everyone was treating it like just any other, but the dreaded encounter was weighing down heavily deep within your stomach. The thought of using yourself as bait to lure out your brother spiraled into the millions of anxious outcomes that kept you up at night. Finally giving you just the smallest glimpse into Bucky's world. The doorway was creaked open to his nightmares.

"Wooow. You look like a Bad. Ass." Sam annunciates amusingly, as his eyes land on you walking up the small rear cargo ramp of the jet.

Your cheeks instantly blush, having already been self-conscious about the skintight, black Kevlar suit Nat gave you to wear. As more footsteps approach, you sink more into your seat and try to avoid any more eye contact.

"Just so you know, I heard that." Bucky's voice rebounds off of the metal walls before he even makes his way completely into the jet. "Don't try and make passes at my girl when I'm not aro-"

You don't need to look up to know that those steel blue eyes have frozen you into place, but you dare a glance. He's dressed in all black; Black boots, black tactical pants, a black leather jacket with the left sleeve torn off- showing his gunmetal and gold Vibranium arm, and a black glove on his right hand. The sight of him is intimidating, ready for combat and anything to be thrown his way. But those eyes. They hold a tenderness meant only for you. His magnetizing stare mixed with the wonderment expression on his face confirms his friends words and more. Okay, so maybe the suit isn't so bad.

"You're gawking." Sam is now at Bucky's side, smirking with his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

Bucky's face slides back into its usual consternation state before giving him a side glare. "Shut up." Sam shakes his head, laughing to himself lightly before making his way to the front of the jet.

You move to sit upright as he approaches, and Bucky's face finally softens. It always does when it's just the two of you. He reaches above where you're sitting to an overhead rack, casually leaning. Hovering like one of those seductive book boyfriends you'd swoon over, but for him it just comes naturally. Swallowing hard, you angle your head up to look at him. You find a slightly playful grin tugging at his lips and you crack a faint smile.

"You doing okay, Sunshine?" His voice is soft but concerned. A gloved thumb caresses down your cheek. The doting gesture entrances you to gently nuzzle into his palm.

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

He reflects on this a moment, his eyes searching yours. But he looks slightly blurry. The background noise is starting to become overwhelming. Numerous voices all start to overlap, the jet engines growing louder as they're warming up, the loud bang with each shipment container with weapons being loaded on board- weapons intended for my brother. It all combines into one long dragged-out, high-pitched ringing sound and your throat closing in on itself. Bucky senses this, notices and quickly acts. Wide eyed, he drops to his knees.

"Hey... Hey, y/n. It's okay." He quickly unfastens the harness from your seat. "Deep breaths." You can't help but notice how calm he sounds. "Hey...look at me." Bucky gently cups each side of your face, the intense coolness on the one side being a welcomed shock. Your eyes meet his, and when they do, all you see is his devotion. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you."

"I know you are." You mutter, pressing your forehead to his as you try to manage your breathing to match his.

"We'll find him." He breathes. "I made it out, he can too. I won't let anything happen to you while we’re out there, y/n." The urgency that his tone is trying to convey is heart wrenching.

"I know, Bucky."

"Here-" He pulls away for a moment to take a bag off his back. Unzipping it, he pulls out a water bottle. "Drink some water."

You smile internally at the gesture. As he's unscrewing the cap, you notice a novel in the bag. It's one he borrowed from you when you first met. There's a familiar stinging behind your eyes. What did I do to deserve this man? One who is willing to walk back into his version of hell to pull out someone that I love?

Sipping on the water of course helped, but Bucky tucking you securely into his side for takeoff is what kept the overwhelming anxiety at bay.

“I love you, so much.” You say against his chest, in appreciation. He snorts slightly, pressing a delicate kiss into your hair.

“And I love you, Sunshine.” Bucky adjusts his hips slightly. “Get some rest, we have a long flight.” Intricate fingers brush through your hair, eventually lulling you to sleep in the safe space that is your boyfriend’s lap.

Distant muttering started reeling you back from a dreamless sleep. Instinctively, you reach for Bucky whom you thought you were still sleeping on- only to find he had replaced it with his bag. The disappointment was starting to settle in when you hear his voice:

“I know how this can come across, but she’s strong enough. She’ll be able to handle it, Tony. I’m here, I can-“

“All I’m hearing is I, I, I, me, me, me, Barnes. You, my friend, were an exception. I don’t know if we can go in there and get this guy out alive, and even if we can, who knows what the aftermath is going to look like! For either of them! We’re taking a regular, a nobody off the street and putting a lot of pressure on her to do this. She’s already starting to feel it, that much is obvious. I’ve said from the beginning that this is a huge mistake. I understand your feelings here, from both sides. You want to make sure HYDRA doesn’t continue to pop up like daises and be there for the love of your life. I GET it. But this is a mistake.”

It’s apparent that Stark has walked away with the clinking of his heavy metal footsteps.

“You picked a good one, Buck. I have faith in her too.” There’s a small reassuring pat to coincide with Steve’s voice. “Y/n’s one of us now.”

“Thanks, Steve. I just… I have to save him. For her.” You can hear the exasperation in Bucky’s voice.

While tears sting from multiple emotions behind closed eyes still pretending to sleep, you feel overcome with something you haven’t experienced in this situation yet; determination. A sudden tenacity to prove the doubters that you can do this, that you can help your brother just how Bucky had, and that you wouldn’t bail and have a breakdown… again. No. From this point on, you refuse to let anyone see you as weak.

The bag underneath your head gently shifts and is quickly replaced with warm body heat that you quickly snuggle into. That warmth spreads as Bucky wraps his right arm around your body, pulling you in a little closer. His heart rate starts to slow, and his breathing becomes more regular. You just soak in the last moments before the unknown.

“He’s really going to just jump out the back of the jet like that?!” You try to yell, over the loud wind rumbling and your hair whipping around.

With Sam’s back facing towards you, he takes one absentminded step off of the opened ramp and is just gone. Your stomach drops along with him at the sight.

Bucky rolls his eyes as he hands you an earpiece, “Yep,” A second later, Sam comes back into view, now soaring with his Falcon wings. He gives Bucky a little sarcastic two finger salute and flies out of view. “He’s flashy like that.”

Putting the impossibly small earpiece into your ear, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. It must be an almost forgotten sound with the weight of everything going on because now Bucky is smiling too.

“Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to jump out of a plane,” you say only half joking. Because if that’s the case, he’s going to have to literally throw you out.

“What did you think the parachutes were for?” Bucky asks deadpan, with a raised eyebrow and pointing to the packs behind him.

All of the color starts to drain from your face, when suddenly you saw the slightest twitch in Bucky’s lip.

“Oh my god. You asshole!” Bucky grabs his stomach and starts to hunch over laughing as you hit him in the arm. His metal arm. “OW!” You start shaking your hand out to wave away the initial sting.

Glancing at him, Bucky is doubled over, nose scrunched, laughing so hard that barely any noise is coming out and tears are welling up in his eyes. It’s contagious, especially as the throb in your hand turns into a dull ache.

I’ve missed this. Things being simple with us and not so draining. Moments that resemble a drop of normalcy in a typical ‘would be’ relationship. But I still wouldn’t trade it. Because he’s perfect. And he’s mine.

Once your lungs don’t feel like they’re on fire any longer, you let you a deep sigh, resting your hands on your hips. “God, I needed that.”

“Did you really think I would toss you out of a Quinjet?”

“Seemed like it in the moment-”

“Alright, love birds,” Tony interrupts, the heavy metal footsteps of his Iron Man armor catching both of your attention, "don't be late to the party," he says knowingly, palms glowing before he too disappears out of the jet.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Bucky says, now standing next to you, “I have my own flashy transport,” he side eyes you with a playful grin.

Arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s stomach; you can’t help but snuggle your cheek into his leather covered shoulder.

Of course, Bucky’s idea of flashy would be a motorcycle.

Your eyes flutter open to see Steve on his own come into view through whips of your hair. The boys. Two best friends riding like they don’t have the weight of the world constantly on their shoulders.

Steve’s bike has a bulky, all chrome classic look while Bucky’s is a modern, all black crotch rocket. Both have been modified to drive relatively quietly, and it’s such a weird dichotomy to still be able to feel the rumbling of the bike between your legs without all the noise.

One of your hands releases the clasp they had on one another, pressing your palm against Bucky’s chest- smoothing itself along his abdomen. Bucky sits more upright in his seat to press back into you more, using only his left hand to steer as his right encloses around yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The gesture is so minor, and yet you can just feel how he puts his heart into everything when it comes to you.

"We're going to pull off to the side up on the left. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot," Steve's voice is solemn in your earpiece.

Bucky gives him a nod in acknowledgement, leaning back down to better control the motorcycle. This time, his hand doesn't leave yours.

The trek through the Switzerland forest was less than a mile, but with each step your feet grew heavier and that sour stomach of yours returned with the dread of seeing your brother again. If he could even be considered your brother anymore. Who knows what actually remained. As much as you have begged and pleaded with the universe to make yet another exception for Lucas just as it had for Bucky, you were terrified of the man that you would soon encounter.

Just shy of coming out of the tree line to the supposed to be abandoned old military base, you hear a series of echoing pops- stopping all three of you dead in your tracks.

Gunshots.

Bucky and Steve exchange a quick, wide-eyed glance at one another, “Go, we’ll catch up.” Bucky says, and within the blink of an eye, Steve takes off running at super soldier speed.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Bucky turned to face you, his shoulders squared, lips in a tight thin line. But looking between your eyes, he loosens a breath, gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me, Sunshine,” he makes every attempt to soften his voice, but a few more pops and yelling sound off in the distance making you wince. His hands grip you tighter, “I need you to focus. What I’m about to say goes against everything I normally believe, but in this circumstance it’s critical…” he sighs, looking down before back into your eyes- trying to convey the seriousness of what he’s saying, “you have to push the fear down. And I know how that sounds, but you can’t walk in there with that look on your face. Because honey, these people will not hesitate to kill you.”

You gasp lightly at the graveness of his words. It’s not like you didn’t know this walking into the mission, but it’s different once you’re actually here.

Bucky sighs again, his expression softening as his hands cup each side of your face especially gentle, “I know, baby. I know. I won’t leave your side,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “I just… I can’t lose you.” His voice cracks slightly, even at just the thought.

Even with your eyes teetering with the threat of tears, you nod in understanding. Placing each of your hands over his, you press your lips to Bucky’s- holding them there, accepting that the moment they pull apart it’s no longer about the two of you, but about the mission. Luke is your mission.

“I love you,” you murmur, before opening your eyes to see deep consternation in his.

Disassociation is a powerful coping mechanism for human beings. It can feel like an outer body experience or even a dream. More like a nightmare. But as you follow into the bunker where the screaming leads, closely behind Bucky with your gun drawn watching for any sudden movements and stepping over the trail of bloodied bodies in the hallway, you're thankful for the part of your brain trying to convince you that this isn't real.

"Still no sign of Castle," Sam's voice was pragmatic in your earpiece.

Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you while still walking, "Maybe he's not here after-" and that's when you see the slightest shift of a shadow in an inverted doorway.

It was so small that in any other instance you would just assume your eyes were just playing a trick on you. But not here. Your body reacted before your mind could even fully register- taking a sudden step to the side, you fired off two prompt shots. A heavy thud followed.

Practically giving himself whiplash, Bucky looks at where you shot and back to you. His eyes widen, mouth open slightly at the realization of what just happened. What you just did- for him. Your eyes haven't moved from that doorway, and your grip is tighter on the gun than it probably should be. Pain surges through your jaw with how tightly your teeth are clenched and yet, you wait to see if anyone else is there. Is there another shadow lurking just waiting for the opportunity to harm one of you?

"Y/n..." Bucky's voice is delicate as his eyes dart around, also looking for shadows, "we have to keep moving," he says in a coaxing manner.

I can’t. The words blare in your mind like a doomsday siren and yet you can’t speak. All you can do is focus on that that dark corner where the pool of crimson continues to grow.

Bucky steps in line of your gun with somber eyes meeting yours, causing you to simultaneously point it towards the ground and break your trance. You didn’t realize just how high and how tight your shoulders had been as you loosened your breath. A new version of you being transformed as you exhale.

“I-” You try catching your breath, completely slack jaw and shaking your head just trying to comprehend what you did. “I…I just-” and the tears are flowing. No crying, no uncontrollable sobbing, but a small steady line of tears as the overwhelming awareness of taking control and trading a life for someone that you love comes to light… just flows.

“You did what you had to,” he answers for you, nodding sympathetically. You don’t deserve kindness right now, do you? But that is why he is good. And that is why he deserves to live.

“We have to go, y/n.” Bucky says, looking over your shoulders and behind himself again. “It looks like no one else has been down here yet.” He grabs your hand, not waiting for a response before he’s treading down the hallway again.

Your feet shuffle instinctively at first to follow him, but the brightness of the flickering fluorescent lights quickly grounded you to where you actually are. There are lives at stake and you need to keep your head.

The distant noise of constant struggle seemed to almost completely stop. Every few minutes you would hear a familiar voice say 'clear' in your ear and relief would wash over you, just thankful for knowing that they were alive.

It got cold the further you went, meaning you probably had gradually descended underground. Finally, at the end of what seemed like a never-ending tunnel, was a large set of metal double doors with multiple large chains and padlocks.

You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance with one another before he fists the chain with his Vibranium hand, pulling effortlessly as they break into pieces. He pushes open the doors to reveal a large, primarily empty room aside from a bunch of dusty, bulky outdated computers. Most of the overhead lights don’t work, so it seems darker in here than it did in the corridor.

Bucky steps into the room and starts looking around, his boots crunching noisily on worn rubble and glass. You hold your breath, watching as his fingers skim along the keyboards, his eyes squinting at the monitors as he passes each one as though looking for something.

And then he stops at one in particular. He eyes it carefully before looking up at the ceiling to the lights again.

“What is it?” You can’t hide your curiosity.

“There’s still power to this base,” he says observantly, turning his attention back towards the computer. “Maybe…” he mumbles to himself, leaning over the monitor a bit, his fingers blindly searching before pressing the power button. Bucky stands back as the screen comes to life, but his eyes widen, alarmed as to what he sees.

“Bucky?” You ask apprehensively, moving to stand next to him and also look at the screen. It's mostly black, but there's a green contour of... a face?

"Hello Sergeant Barnes," the computer says with a German accent.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Bucky steps back, his hands fisting into his hair.

The voice chuckles, "Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

“Is… the computer talking? To you?”

“Why, yes, Ms. Castle. I am,” your stomach turns over at the sound of the voice addressing you as well.

“What the fu-” you go to repeat Bucky’s words but get cut off.

“Does the facility seem… familiar, Barnes?” Zola asks, condescendingly. “Or, at the very least, the machinery?”

Bucky's eyes start to dart around the room, taking in the different equipment before muttering to himself in dismay, "these control the cyro chambers..."

The computer laughs menacingly, "Ah, so you do remember. Good! Good..."

Rolling his arm once while taking a large step forward, Bucky brings it down, crushing the computer completely. Exposed wires spark briefly from the powerful impact, otherwise leaving the room in silence.

“What- who was that?”

“Arnim Zola. A scientist for HYDRA. The one who, well…” Bucky passively gestures to himself, “experimented and is responsible for me.”

Suddenly, another one of the numerous screens comes to life- the digitized green face grinning, “tsk, tsk. Oh, Soldat…”

“I won’t answer to that anymore,” Bucky maintained through gritted teeth, raising his arm to disintegrate this talking monitor as well just as it says:

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Just then, you hear quick, trudged steps. The only warning you had before been picked up, as easily as a pillow and aggressively, carelessly thrown aside into a metal desk, knocking some of the computers that sat on top along with you.

You tried gasping for the air that was stolen from your lungs on impact with the floor, but it didn’t come. Instead, it burned, more than the pain creeping around the left side of your ribs as you sluggishly moved to sit on your knees. Looking up, you meet the threatening gaze of the one who attacked you.

He was exceptionally tall, especially from your view on the floor. Lean, but had an athletic build and strong. Super strong. He was dressed in all black tactical gear, the only color being a large red Soviet star in the center of his chest. A black mask covered all but his eyes, keeping him faceless. He was pale, as if he hadn't seen actual sunlight in years and had shoulder length dirty blonde hair.

But those eyes. They cemented you to the floor- glaring, daring you to move or even breathe. Just the look that he conveyed felt like you were in the presence of death itself. As you were able to take your first small breath, your lips parted, and eyes narrowed as they locked into his deadly gaze. There was such a darkness glazed over the emerald irises, but you'd recognize them anywhere.

"Luke..." you exhale, painfully. Both physically and emotionally.

His brow twitches slightly at you saying his name, like his mind is trying to recollect it from a long-forgotten dream. As his body turns to face you, he suddenly gets shoved back a few feet, "Back off, Castle." Bucky warns sternly, stepping between you and your brother.

Gripping the desk, you use it to hoist yourself up, whining slightly and grabbing at your left side realizing that you most likely have some broken ribs. The sound of your pain distracted Bucky for one second, and Luke took that opportunity to lunge forward and kick him high in the chest. With a breathless grunt, Bucky barrels backwards into you, knocking your back flush against the wall.

Luke was there in the blink of an eye, grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket. The two of them quickly became a tangle of throwing fists and kicks, breaking apart to find anything around to throw at one another. Overturning desks, throwing chairs, Bucky even chucked a still laughing Zola computer at Luke.

While you never thought the two most important men in your life would ever have the chance to meet, this is not the way you would have ever imagined it.

With your back still flat against the wall, you slide down to sit on the floor, starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the overwhelmingness of the situation, but instinctively you bring your hand to the back of your head, and it feels... wet. Looking at your fingers, they're now coated with fresh, warm crimson blood. It's getting harder to think straight with the tunneling vision, but you realize that you hit your head against the wall from the collision of bodies.

"Please..." you choke out a sob, "please, stop," you beg. But they can't hear you over their own heated screams and grunts as they continue to fight one another. Your narrowing vision focuses on Bucky, seeing that he is fighting more defensively- actively trying to avoid hurting Luke, pulling his punches where he can. Tears burn behind your eyes at the sight, knowing that if this were anyone else, it would already be over.

"Luke!" Bucky yells and quickly dodges to the side, avoiding the knife now sticking out of the wall that Luke threw at him. "Your sister came here to get you back! She's here for you. We're here for you!" Bucky maintained his distance, mirroring Luke's movement's trying to rely on his words rather than fists. They're pacing, waiting for the other to make a move.

The ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and as much as you tried to fight it, sweat started to bead up on your skin. You were losing consciousness, and fast.

"Bucky," you breathe out. His body tenses as he looks over at you, eyes wide. He jumps over one of the only remaining desks in the room and kneels down, hands hovering over body briefly, afraid to touch you.

"Okay... okay," he mutters to himself, scanning you over, his eyes linger on your hand with the now drying blood on them. Bucky gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over it as he forces a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You're gonna be okay, Sunshine. I-I'm going to get you outta here and get some help, okay?" His voice sounds shaky as his chest heaves, "Sam? I need a med evac for y/n,"

You nod once, or at least you think you do, as you continue to focus on Bucky. Everything around him starts to fade into a deeper black void. The last thing you see is Luke step into view over Bucky's shoulder to look down at you. At some point during their altercation, his mask had been ripped off. His lips were pressed into a thin line as his teeth clenched and remained expressionless while Bucky continued to stroke your hair and try to speak calm, reassuring words of how he would make sure you would be okay as you slipped under the surface of complete darkness.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr @skulliecadaver-blog

[inmyheaddd]

missed calls - grayson hawthorne x reader

a/n: these girl dad grayson fics have be wishing for a little freya more than grayson himself 😞 need a baby daughter so bad wc: 927 tag list: @wish-i-were-heather @x-liv25-jamieswife @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus

@anintellectualintellectual @heartwithsimplenotes @littlemissmentallyunstable (love u guys!! if u want to be added lmk 🩷) masterlist

it was the morning of your 5 year old daughter freya’s ballet play, the one she had been rehearsing and practicing for months. sometimes, you and grayson would go wake her up for school, and you’d find her already awake, practicing her pirouettes in her little mirror. 

you dropped off your daughter at around 8 in the morning, and the show as at 1. grayson had his schedule cleared for months, he had literally scheduled everything around it, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

the world may bend to the will of grayson hawthorne, but he bent to the will of his daughter. 

it was nearing 12:15 when grayson’s personal phone went off. he was fetching his car keys so you decided to see what it was. your face fell when you saw it was a 911 text from his brother, jameson. 

you turned around, not even registering that grayson had now come up behind you. “whats wrong?” he said upon seeing the look on your face.

“nothing, it’s just,” you paused before sighing, “jameson just sent a 911.” 

graysons eyebrows furrowed, and he reached for his phone and saw the message. he muttered a swear under his breath before meeting your eyes again silently.

grayson’s bond with his brothers was uncomparable to anything else, even if they bickered a lot, they would still practically die for one another. 

“what are you going to do?” you asked, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. you had to drop everything for a 911, that was the rule.

the last time grayson ignored one, a very unfortunate video of him in very tight leather pants haunted him for months. you had jameson to thank for that.

you could see grayson thinking through all the possible outcomes, a tiny crinkle in between his brows.

“i’m sure they’ll be fine without me for one day.” he stated, and you could tell he was sure in his decision.

that didn’t stop you from asking anyways.

“grayson, are you sure? i mean, i’ll be there to watch freya anyway.” your fingers were drumming against your leg, grayson noticed and held your hand in his. “plus, i think she’ll be fine. she doesn’t like you that much.”

you joked in an attempt to resolve the visible tension in his face, and it worked — his lips stretching into a smile that made your heart flutter. 

he then pulled you into his side and planted a kiss on the top of your head, appreciating your attempts to make him feel better. 

“even if she doesn’t like me that much, i care for her more than anything. i’m going, no matter what.” 

you smiled at grayson and his thoughtfulness. the love he had for your daughter was extraordinary, he was the best parent there could possibly be. 

any worries about what the future - more so his brothers - held in the next week that lingered disappeared the second he locked eyes with freya. she was looking all over the audience for you two, the way her face visibly lit up and her little wave was worth anything his brothers would put him through.

grayson, ever the dad, pulled out his professional camera and was snapping photos and videos throughout the whole show. 

people were giving him looks, even moms that you knew were eyeing you. 

“grayson,” you whispered as you nudged him. 

“yes, my love?” his gaze kept flickering between the stage, his camera, and you. 

“people keep staring.” you muttered, as if it was something new to you two. 

he quirked an eyebrow up as he watched freya on stage, “i’m afraid i don’t care.” he paused, smiling as freya did the one routine she had shown him a million times and locked eyes with you two right after she did. 

“if they had this angel for a daughter, then they’d understand.” he continued. 

the way you could visibly see the excitement and happiness bouncing off of her little face made you endlessly proud. 

you chuckled, “how’d we ever get so lucky with her?” you muttered practically in awe, you wholeheartedly believed you had the best kid in the world.

grayson’s gaze was now entirely focused on you, “she’s a little you, you know that? you’re the best mother to her, it amazes me everyday; how perfect you are with her.” 

“grayson,” you said with a slightly flustered chuckle as you squeezed his hand, “don’t cut yourself out. that determination, that focus?” you say as you nod towards freya, “did not come from me.” 

“that’s not from me, either. that’s all her, my love.” 

freya ran to you the second she was done, then grayson lifted her up and spun her around. their shared laughter was a sound you could listen to forever, and one you couldn’t help but join in on. 

the next day, grayson left for the 911.

he was late though, and the rules were the rules. even though his brothers wouldn’t outwardly say it, they were beyond happy that grayson had found his people, the ones he loved with his whole entire being. 

nevertheless, 2 days later grayson was back home with pink and green streaks in his blonde hair, and glitter in all the places glitter shouldn’t be. honestly, you weren’t too sure you even wanted to know what happened. 

along with that, you were sent a video of grayson singing britney spears karaoke in a very questionable outfit by xander. 

grayson would do it all again though, to be able to see that proud smile on his little girl’s face, and to be able to share that moment with you.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hope you don't mind my idea, I may be a bit biased towards soldier lads ^^;

If your working with Lethal Company, how about a situation where the reader isn't scared of the Nutcracker, but is crazy enough to try and befriend it cause they like the fairytale that much?

OOO this is a big brain idea-

Nutcrackers stress me out,,but oh to befriend them..

.....

With the quota constantly rising, you and your team had to take greater risks on moons with more hostile creatures roaming about....all for the sake of selling scrap.

You four had different roles: One was a scouter, the second a budget manager, the third a fighter (they never left the ship without a shovel or zap gun), and you manned the ship while everyone else explored the facilities.

You watched the monitors and chatted with them through walkie-talkies, alerting them to loot or danger.

Although you've saved their lives more times than you could count on both hands, you kinda got bored and wanted to help collect scrap yourself.

One day, the bestiary on the terminal gets updated with a new creature:

The Nutcracker.

Not long afterwards, everyone returned to the ship freaking the fuck out. Nobody died, and the loot was decent, but they were very much shaken-up by this "Nutcracker" entity they encountered.

It apparently had a shotgun that made them all nearly deaf upon firing AND came close to blowing their brains out.

Yet viewing its model on the terminal did awaken a little bit of childhood nostalgia in you, seeing as it looked like a life-sized nutcracker soldier.

Back on Earth, you loved that fairytale: The Nutcracker and the Mouse.

You even watched performances of the ballet/suite around Christmas.

Least to say, you weren't scared of it..and you wanted to actually see this entity for yourself.

Your team opposed it, until one employee mentioned their scanner registered the shotgun as scrap--and you volunteered to go retrieve it since it could set you above the quota.

Obviously you weren't gonna do that, but managed to convince them to let you go alone.

So you get teleported into the facility, almost immediately spotting the Nutcracker on its patrol, walking around like a true soldier and clicking as it surveyed its surroundings.

You notice the upper half of its head extending, revealing a grisly fleshy eye in its "mouth" as it rotated around.

Now you knew it was likely just a machine controlled by a parasite, but you were still fascinated by it nevertheless.

Then your walkie talkie goes off.

"Hurry up, we leave at midni-"

You instantly turn it off, yet the Nutcracker was alerted.

Next thing you knew, it swung around the corner you were hiding, loading two bullets into it shotgun as it stomped closer and closer...

That's when you got an insane idea and pulled out some items you've held onto since starting this job:

A hard copy of the original Nutcracker tale and a smaller figurine of the soldier.

They were comforts from your childhood. You'd never sell them as scrap. Not even if they're worth a million dollars.

You see the entity hesitate, before the eye reveals itself again and stares at your treasured collectibles.

"I-I always liked your stories and ballets.." You stammer out, still facing down the barrel of its gun, knowing death could await you at any moment. "Could we....maybe be friends, Nutcracker, sir?"

You doubt the damn thing could even understand you...

But then it suddenly shifts its focus back on you and raises its gun, opening fire-

Yet you don't drop dead.

Instead you hear the hiss of a Bracken who was mere centimeters away from snapping your neck, and you realize a bullet tore through one of its leaves.

It looked betrayed, but the Nutcracker's one-eyed glare sent it scurrying back into the shadows.

Apparently it was scared of brief eye contact from all creatures, not just humans.

You couldn't believe what just happened.

The Nutcracker...defended you?

You began to thank it for saving your life, but it's cut short when you're teleported back to the ship and your crew is relieved it's not your dead body.

Yet they'd call you crazy if you even implied that you somehow befriended the entity that just tried killing them all...

So you keep this secret locked away in your journal, wondering if there's other Nutcrackers out there who'd act like the one who saved you.

[harmonysanreads]

@harmonysanreads how are you in this fine morning darling💖💖💖💖 the quest in star rail was so fun and epic!! I can't what in store for us in fontaine djddjssjaa.

Also I have several brainrots for the pass days while cleaning the house and organizing my dads file cabinets. Like this I do ballet and just imagine Neuvillette always coming to the theater recitals to watch us dance, also fun bit that we are fontaine's prima ballerina a well known sweetheart of fontaine!! Where all nobles fight and spend lots just to see us dance or invite us to parties to dance!

Just imagine that ballet darling finished her solo in his private booth which is directly in the center that can see everything in the stage just staring at us face stoic but a dark desire in his eyes as he claps calmly. Yan Neuvillette giving her boquets in her dressing room and praising her in front of the people.

But!!!

Ballet dancer darling underneath her sweetness and kidnes prim and proper lifestyle, she enjoys the common things in life like "oh I love the menu today! But can I eat some street foods from liyue or inazuma!" Or "Wow! I love to listen to more rock n roll music!" She's just so humble and can mingle with people lower to her status. But despite her kindness Yan neuvillette sees this as rebellion like you can't expect you to mingle with people with no class...they will influence you and you will developed thier bad habbits.

Yan Neuvillette being ballet dancer darling secret admirer/ courting them, but Ballet dancer darling is just intimidated by him and indulged him due to the fact he gives them gifts, goes to thier shows and is good friend of the family plus his power in fontaine ballet dancer darling just going through it. But if you asked them they'll rathee go undercover and watch lyney and lynette magic shows, hanging out with Charlotte or freminet heck going down to the lower class and perform for them teaching some who wants to learn to dance.

Anything than being in a room full of suffocating rich people who adheres to proper etiquette than being true to your interests because they are not "a proper becoming of a young lady/man" just Ballet dancer reader who wants to experience the common people life than neuvillette formal dates and lessons

KEEP UP WITH THE AMAZING AND WONDERFUL SPECTACULAR WORK 💖💖💖💖💗💗💗💝💝

Wish us luck because fontaine will going to drain my wallet and I'm pulling for blade and dragon dan heng djdndd

Hiii Coco!!

For Yandere!Neuvillette, I don't think he'll outright see your interest in the common lifestyle as rebellion. Initially, he'd be somewhat confused as such interest is not something he usually sees from someone of the upper class. But as he recognizes it to be humility and compassion, he's charmed furthermore. He might even use this knowledge in his courting and news flash! The Chief Justice of Fontaine is interested in charity and is donating millions of mora to the lower class? Furina is thoroughly amused and her teasings just worsen. Oh well, if he succeeds in wooing you then enduring it all will be worth it. Neuvillette tries and he really gives it his all to win your heart ‘conventionally’.

If you think you can just dodge all his advances by being polite while hoping he eventually loses interest — you're so wrong. In fact, Neuvillette will notice your discomfort regarding him very early and at first, he tries to be more approachable, amicable and charming ; if you may. He's aware of his disposition, therefore, he doesn't really blame you for being intimidated by him. If all of this effort proves to be in vain, no worries ; Neuvillette knows the exact strings to pull to get an artist compliant. Reputation takes time to build but a measly moment to be destroyed, some good ol' coercion should do and in your most vulnerable state, who else will be willing to help you?

The instance where I see him being blatantly controlling is, if your whole involvement with the common folk and lifestyle threaten your ballerina image. I presume ballerinas have a very strict diet to keep their figures, in that case, do you really think indulgences such as oily, fatty street food will be allowed by Neuvillette? The Judge has caught wind of you skipping practice to mingle with the peasants? Well guess who's going to sit there and supervise your practice session til the last second? It's not like you get any encouragement to question his involvement, however valid your complaints are. No one wants to get on Neuvillette's bad side and I suggest you don't, too.

[ next : ballerina darling falling for a commoner ]

[lilghostiequinni]

Not the Only One

Main Masterlist Lestappen Masterlist

Pairing: Norris!female oc (Lea) x Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: She comes to Formula One as a photographer. Well, kind of. She's something else but a photographer nonetheless, but for three teams, she takes photos.

Requested: NO / yes (Saturday Poll)

The better part of all 10 teams was gathered in one of the many conferencing rooms in the F1 headquarters; every team had its own little section.

"Alright, well, we have a new member joining, she is a photographer to all teams, partially and three teams full time," Stefano says to the group of teams in the room as he walks in, a woman following behind.

"She is already assigned to one team of her choice. The other two will be determined via her terms," Stefano says, moving to the side for the woman to come forward.

"This is Lea, Lea Norris. She will also be taking team photos and the grid photo for this year's beginning," Stefano says, pointing to the woman as he does.

"Hello, I'm Lea. The team of my choosing was McLaren. I brought it up to Stefano about how to determine the other two teams I will be working for, and that is a charity race for what ever charity you choose. Any questions?" Lea asks the grid, and a few hands go up.

Lea pointed to Alex Albon, "How are you related to Lando? He never mentions you."

"Well, I'm his twin sister, his more successful little twin sister," Lea walks over to Lando and wraps her arms around his neck, and he holds her arms with his hands.

Carlos raises his hand next, "I would like to point out that I knew of you, just not what you do?"

Lea smiles, and Lando shakes his head, "She co-owns Quadrant with me because she can do the behind-the-scenes better than I can. She also owns her own clothing brand, Leona & Odan, also owning the multi-million dollar company Leletics, the company that makes many parts of the liveries and other things. Let's not forget her athletic ability," Lando says; he does an eye roll at the end but still has a smile.

"That is all true. I own the fashion company Leona & Odan, along with the company Leletics, which is also a design company not just for livery parts and 'stuff.' I also co-own Quadrant with my brother, but I am never on camera because I don't want to. I am also athletic. I do ballet and a few other sports myself. I am terrible at golf, though," Lea says, letting go of her brother to walk back to the front of the room.

She stands at the front of the room, watching the drivers.

"Why are you doing this?" Comes from the Mercedes team.

"Because I need a change of pace. I do what I love every day, but there is only so much I can do about my hobbies, such as photography. Also, I may have punched one of the chairmen to Leletics because he was there for a few years and still thought I was an assistant and not the CEO. He tried to do something that shouldn't be done, and I may have punched him a little too hard," Lea says with a fake smile on her face.

"Someone tried to touch you! Was it that asshole Brason?" Lando demands in big brother mode.

"It's fine, Lando, later, please," Lea begs her brother; Lando clenches his jaw but backs down.

For the next hour, she answers all the questions on what she is to do before she gets a question from one Max Verstappen, "So, what are we to do for this race?"

"The race is to determine what other two teams I'll technically work for, and for charity, the two teams to win will get to give 1 million dollars to a charity of their choosing. McLaren will also be competing because they don't want them left out, but they won't get anything if they win; a charity of their choice will still get a million dollars, and the charities of the rest of the teams will still get half a million dollars, each." Lea says before she continues. "Listen, I know it sounds bad because you don't even know what I can do, but I just want to give back, and I... I don't really know how to explain myself to you. I just want to do what got me started, talking pictures of racing."

It was basically a mock race in Silverstone; liveries were provided to each team, so everyone was on the same playing field as the racers; there was a single level of qualifying and a single free practice to get familiar with the car.

In the last laps of the race, it was pretty clear that the two other teams would be Red Bull and Ferrari, but Mercedes was still in the running for the third team, attempting to over take Ferrari.

But in the end, it was Ferrari that just barely beat Mecades as Carlos passed Hamilton.

Later that day, Formula One announced the addition of a three-team photographer, and the day after, McLaren, Red Bull, and Ferrari announced themselves as the three teams for the newest photographer

Lea proved herself, too, to all the teams, not just the three that had become her job, that she was capable of taking the necessary photographs in the sport of Formula One.

It was no surprise to her brother, though, when she showed up at Woking with a helmet for her brother, one he sort of forgot about. Just barely remembered a helmet design he told her for the 2024 season, so she designed it but did not tell him she designed it, giving it to him before testing as a surprise.

A/N: So, Lestappen won, but I will check later when the poll ends and post a thing about which two get one shot in a week. There will also be a part two posted in Week 3, it will take place in Maimi, Imola, and Monaco of the current season. This didn't have much Lestappen content, but in the next one it will.

Tags: If you want to be added to the lists or a single list, let me know

[madeby-meru]

wacky and probably incorrect jason headcanons

part 2 here

definitely plays videgames, but not any videogames, he plays stardew valley. what better way to unwind after a long day of managing a successful company than managing an even more successful farm? man has SPREADSHEETS, he plays meta, he has 500 optimization mods, he is on year 20 making millions a day and vehemently hates Lewis

doesn't know shit about cars, yes he has a couple expensive ones and will gladly take any compliments on them but he just picked them because they looked fancy, he doesn't even like driving that much

he wanted to do ballet as a kid but his parents never let him because "it was a waste of time", instead, they signed him up for tennis, golf and fencing at their country club so he would mingle with other fellow rich kids (he drew the line at cricket tho)

it's impossible to watch any business-themed show with him, he will point out every single inaccuracy and will criticize all executive decisions, probably also accidentally ruin the plot twists

really good cook, like really really good. will easily whip out something for you saying "it's just a simple dish" and then its a mouth watering michelin star worthy delicacy. in fact, not only is he good but he also enjoys it a lot, man has a whole ass folder full of his own recipes, pictures and all

[lavender-at-heart]

Hello!! Can you please make "Dating Carlisle would include" like you did with other Cullens? I saw you wanted Twilight request, and I really want more Carlisle content, so. Thank you in advance!

YESSSS FOR SURE!! BEEN DYING TO DO THIS ANYWAY. 💖💖💖💓💓💓

----------------------------------------------------

Dating Carlise HCs:

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x GN!reader (but fem in mind)

Warnings: none

----------------------------------------------------

So the whole "I've waited a hundred years for this" is kind of applicable to all the Cullens, but-

It's different! Carlisle has waited like 300 years. He's honestly given up hope in ever finding a mate, thought it wasn't in the cards for him

And despite having a loving family, seeing all of them and his friends find a life partner made him lonley. He was happy, but a lonley person.

So when you come into his life it's like a million fireworks go off at once!

He may be very rusty and old-fashioned, but that doesn't mean he doesn't sweep you off your feet!

You would be seriously head over heels within the first 5 mins of talking

Wether you were one of the Cullen kids' friends or you were in need of medical attention, you were hooked the minute you met

You definitely thought there has to be a catch

He can't be handsome, rich, kind, smart, respectful, AND sane

I'm not sure how it would work with his super self control, but he would probably feel at least a little bit of a thirst for your blood

He'd probably freak out a bit and be overall shocked

Maybe a bit repulsed with himself for even slightly wanting to indulge in human blood

Nevertheless he overcomes this and quickly works on spending time with you

Obviously he wants to come across as normal as possible but he can't help but be overly enthusiastic

Dates would include dinners to expensive restaurants, way too expensive in your opinion

Long walks by the beach or in the forest near his house

Stargazing

Reading by the fireplace

Loves reading you to sleep

Ballet, Opera, or classical music shows are probably a must

But he's down to more casual things too

Being with you makes him feel human, so late night 7-11 trips, or binge watching a show gives him a new, fresh, taste of a cosy life

He loves loves loves to cook for you

Puts on the cooking channel and gets to work

Will try different recipes and cuisines and have you rate each meal

Will go with Alice to the mall so he can buy you all sorts of gifts

Will teach you how to properly dance, none of that jumping up and down business

Would love the idea of getting married soon, he knows you both will never want anyone else

But he would also love to support you in your future in normal society, while you have it

Wether that be post-seccondary or a career

Speaking of weddings, probably a big one

He would invite his long list of friends of course, maybe even the volturi

But simple. He never wants to be showy, but he's just so proud and exited!

Definitely nothing extravagant, keep things classy and nice

He would always be there during difficult times

Obviously if your going through physical difficulties he's the man

You get the best, at home treatment

Top quality soup, tea, and medicine

Due to his super hearing and even smell he can tell if there's a tickle in your throat or a bug in your stomach

But if your feeling down or going through a rough patch he's there

He knows better than anyone that life is full of highs and lows, and he sticks around for the lows

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Thanks for reading, I welcome any feedback!

Xoxo

[helaenatargaryencore]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝��𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚)

(Everything about the younger children I headcannon!)

Once again feel free to disagree but be respectful my loves!

Jace

Definitely on the schools soccer team, I see Jace as a very popular figure at school but he is very gentleman like, he will carry girls books and bags to class, help teachers move chairs and tables around class and chose the kids that usually don’t get chosen into teams for PE, he has a hair care routine for his curls for sure, is a comic fan I can see it and def is a crackhead for video games, does twitch streams probably, and loves energy drinks especially before his workouts (yeah I kinda headcannon him as a gym rat!) he owns a dog named vermax btw who is a German shepherd (proudest dog dad) academically he is great in English and history, heavy on the history since his family has a huge part in it I mean they were royalty and rode dragons (yes dragons existed and went extinct like dinosaurs and shit let me believe😫) but math is a bit of a hard subject he passes with a c maybe a B if lucky.

Luke

He has not a single bad or intimidating bone in his body, an angel if you will. He is the sweetest human being who is very shy and quiet until you get him to come out of his shell then he is a comedian full on, definitely has beautiful curls, does great in all his classes just to make Rhae proud (momma’s boy) wears a single sliver band ring that Rhaenyra gifted him and he has never taken it off, has a dog named Arrax who’s a beagle, he definitely wears flannels and hoodies and owns a million pairs of converse, he smokes/vapes but not constantly because he is paranoid that his lungs would give out before the age of 30. Definitely does twitch streams and has a PC set up, is in a gaming/coding club at school for sure, probs an anime fan (I don’t know why he just gives off cute dweeb vibes!)

Baela

A queen through and through! I see her being a human/equal/animal rights activist and a feminist for sure, idk she just seems like a supportive human who people would instantly love! She def would wear pretty vibrant colors, her hair would be lovely as well (wasn’t a big fan of the wigs in the show she and phoebe basically all of house Velaryon could have had better!) I see Baela with short silver coils even a gorgeous Afro and she might even enjoy dying her hair (maybe not) but she definitely would keep her hair healthy and beautiful! I have a feeling that she would be in some sort of sport but I cannot pinpoint which one! Owns a beautiful horse (a Friesian horse) named Moondancr, she would enjoy hobbies like horse back riding, going on hikes, surfing probably, rock climbing, she also loves doing crazy daredevil stuff (gives poor Laena a heart attack but Daemon is proud) she will stand her ground and speak her mind!

Rhaena

She is so graceful, Rhaena is so kind and sweet therefore everyone was always so comfortable in her presence, she is a academic genius looking into becoming a dance/ballet instructor due to being in the dancing field her whole life, it was something she enjoyed and felt at peace doing. Has a beautiful white Birman cat named Morning, her collar and supplies are all pink and bright, Rhaena herself wears light pinks and whites even mix it up with other pastel colors, cute knitted sweaters as well. Beautiful silver hair that she would have in gorgeous braids or let her natural coils (like Laena’s) be but either way she would look gorgeous! She is close with Baela and Luke more than anybody else!

Joffrey

Totally see him being the Lily Pritchett of his family, he would constantly gag everybody (especially Aegon!) An iPad kid through and through with his YouTube and games on full volume but he would keep his hands and iPad clean for sure, does Fortnite dances idk I just vision it, gets away with everything because in Rhae’s eyes he can do no wrong, he has a dog named tyraxes (he believes in the dog distribution system as much as the cat one and randomly walked inside the house with a small flea infested pup that Rhaenyra paid a fat vet bill for) is the most honest one in the family he don’t give a fuck about anyone’s feelings you asked for the truth he’ll give it to you upfront. He has a personal vendetta against Aegon which started when he forgot him in a car when he was a baby (Aegon is paranoid and believes that is the sole reason Joffrey is against him and he may be right) He’s smart in all categories I mean good grades and is great at social situations

Aegon and Viserys

Both are attached to the hip since they are close in age, in the show I kinda don’t see much of them so to me I cannot read what they could be like. Cute kids though.

Visenya

Now since she doesn’t quite exist I headcannon that Rhaenyra gets to have her, everything about her is headcannon since yk she wasn’t alive in the show. I see her being a clone of Rhaenyra, a spoiled princess gets everything she wants (as she should) is in the best ballet school with the best instructors, her wardrobe is definitely professional made princess gowns, like she names a princess and Rhaenyra is on the phone getting it made, she has thick silver hair which she has her mommy braid just like hers, she owns millions of stuffed animals it is outrageous. Def owns a white Pomeranian pup named silverwing or Meraxes.

Okay this was fun to do! I love this whole Modern Au and I do hope you all enjoyed this read and comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but not required just as long as you enjoy the read💗