#or quickly googles it and confirms it

[radpool]

🥂

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

Y'ALL

Latter third of January is going to be a good month 👏👏

@whumpypepsigal I hope you have some free time at least in February 👀👀

[kenziedrawz]

what the fuck do you mean the nintendo direct is tomorrow WHAT

[companionjones]

Triple The Trouble

Pairing: Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Fandoms: Moon Knight, MCU, Marvel

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Probably incorrect portrayals of Dissociative Identity Disorder, Reader has hair, Google translate Spanish, English and Spanish speaking Reader

*******

You could have almost sworn that you heard that cliché tranquil flute playing as you opened your eyes to a new day. That's how perfect that morning was. The sun was shining sweetly through the curtains, and you were in bed with the loves of your life.

"Good morning, Marc," you greeted with a small smile.

Marc's face reflected yours. He shook his head. "I'll never get over how you can always tell which one of us is fronting."

"It's just easy to me," you said, "I can't explain it."

A mischievous smile flashed across Marc's face. "I'm not asking you to explain anything."

"Oh yeah? What are you asking me to do?" you wondered, playing along.

"I'm asking you to keep looking beautiful while I do this." On the last word, Marc dragged you closer to him by your sides. He leaned in and kissed you.

You giggled at the sudden movement, but quickly relaxed into the kiss.

For a few moments, you and Marc continued to make out. You both smiled into the kiss when Marc rolled on top of you.

He separated from you to ask, "Do you wanna?"

The way he phrased the question made you laugh. "Yeah, I wanna."

After that, Marc continued the kiss with a little more passion. It didn't take him long to start trailing kisses down your neck and torso.

It tickled. "Marc!"

He only separated from you when his face was in line with your cunt. You could feel his warm breath against you as Marc spoke up to confirm, "You sure, sweetheart?"

At that point, you were getting worked up. You nodded fervently down to him while voicing out a "Yeah."

Marc grew more serious before he settled his face into you. Marc's nose nudged against your clit as his tongue licked a long stripe up your folds.

You shivered and hooked a leg onto his back. Little noises betrayed how you were feeling for a few minutes before you full-on gasped when Marc's tongue plunged inside you.

It got harder and harder to form words. Moans were all that would leave your mouth as Marc's tongue pressed in and out of you.

Soon enough, he added his fingers. You cried out. It wasn't long after that when you were cumming.

You took a couple minutes to come down from your climax, but when you did, you noticed that he wasn't above you. Marc was still between your legs.

"Whatchu doin'?" you wondered aloud to him.

Marc was just staring at you with an ocean of desire on his face. You almost couldn't comprehend it.

"Get up here," you smirked, pulling Marc up to you.

As soon as you could reach his lips, you were making out with him again. While doing that, you rolled on top of Marc and reached down to his dick.

Marc moaned loudly as soon as you touched it.

"What? You like that?" you teased with a kiss. "Bet you'll like it more when I go like this..." Sensually, you started giving him a handjob while moving down to kiss and suck on his neck.

He moaned again, and started carding his fingers through your hair. "Y/n..."

Come to think of it, Marc had been rather quiet, not including the moans. Most of the time, he was a lot more talkative during your intimate moments with him.

As if on cue, Marc's face started to show signs of switching who was fronting. You assumed Marc had gotten too overwhelmed with what was happening, and needed someone else to take over. You took your hands completely off him so to not overwhelm whoever was about to come out.

"Hey, Steven," you smiled when you realized who it was.

"Hello, Y/n. I-I'm pleased to...see you again." He was clearly flustered that you were both naked and you sitting on top of him.

"Do you want to keep going? Or--?" you started to question, but Steven interrupted you.

"Keep going! Keep going. Gods, I felt what you were doing to us, and I had to come out. I had to to be a part of this."

Even though you had had sex with Steven many times before, he was still just as in awe of you as he had been the first time he saw you, whether you were wearing clothes or not. You leaned down to kiss him.

Steven turned you guys over so that he was on top, and he started talking while kissing you. "Y/n...I'd...like to...do something...?"

"What's that?" you returned, barely breaking the kiss.

"Can I...I'd like to...fuck you...doggy-style--?"

You immediately broke the kiss and stared at him with your mouth open. A smile was forming on your lips.

"Or if not, totally understandable--"

Before Steven could completely freak out, you brought him down to kiss you again. "Baby, you know you can always do whatever you want to me."

"Well now, don't go saying that. Not that I would ever, ever hurt you, but you never know if...I'll shut up now."

That whole time he was talking, you were getting into position.

Steven quieted down when you bared your ass to him.

That caused you to laugh as he lined himself up with you.

"A-are you ready?" Steven cleared his throat.

You pressed yourself against him. "Go ahead, sweetheart."

Steven audibly swallowed before slowly thrusting into your pussy from behind. You both moaned at the sensation.

"Oh-oh, gods. H-how does that feel?"

"Feels so good, baby." Your legs shook a little when you moved slightly. "How does it feel for you?"

He didn't hesitate in his response. "It feels like I could explode in you right now...Can I move?"

You nodded, already out of breath. "Yeah."

Steven started slowly thrusting in and out of you, and he slowly picked up speed. You let out a high pitched moan each time he entered you, and gasped every time he pulled out.

"Steven!" you squealed.

His breath came out hot against the shell of your ear. "T-tell me I'm doing a good job."

You couldn't think. "You're doing such a good job, baby, Oh. Oh, fuck. God, yes!"

Then, during one of the seconds he was out of you, Steven took a little longer to thrust back inside. Before he did, he roughly pushed you back down to the mattress.

Before the first Spanish word left his mouth, you knew Jake was fronting.

He hunched over to speak into your ear. "Dios, son demasiado saves Contigo, chica. Ambos sabemos lo ques puedes tomar. No es asi? (God, they go too easy on you, girl. We both know what you can take. Isn't that right?)" He didn't miss a word as he deftly moved his hips away and against yours.

"Yes. Yes!" you responded, then unconsciously switched to Spanish yourself. "No pares. Por favor no pares. Ya casi llego--! (Don't stop. Please don't stop. I'm almost there--!)" You reached your peak once more.

It was while he was inside you then that the body switched to Marc fronting again. You vaguely noticed who it was when he started moving again, and moaned, "I'm yours...I'm yours...We're yours!"

Something deep within you told you that all three of your boys were there with you as the body came inside you.

You moaned when he pulled out, and you collapsed onto your back with Marc laying on your chest. You could tell it was him by how he wouldn't let you get up.

"I need to go clean myself up," you lightheartedly reasoned, but he wasn't having it.

Marc whined, "Not yet. Just gimme a couple minutes, okay?"

You chuckled.

"Hey," Marc moved to look at you. "None of us hurt you, right? I felt things get a little intense with Jake there. It's why I came back out."

You shrugged. "Sometimes I like things intense."

Marc seemed satisfied with that answer. He kissed you. He must've switched to Steven during that because those were his eyes you were staring into when the kiss was broken.

Steven smirked at you. "I'll take note of that," he responded to your previous statement. "Now, let me get something to clean you up with, yeah?"

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[jjbalice]

A Night to Forget

Summary: Mingi wakes up to a feeling he's never experienced before, and he's pretty sure he's dying.

Genre: a reverse hurt/comfort Mingi x reader oneshot

Word count: 1 123 (8-9 min.)

Trigger warnings: descriptions of a panic attack (shortness of breath, feeling nauseous and scared, crying)

A/N: Somehow, the biggest struggle while writing this was the concept of puke bowls?? I thought that was a universal thing but once I started googling the proper term for it I found out it's not?? So if you're one of those people who don't have a designated bowl for throwing up at home, now you do, lol.

You awoke with a startle, eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to focus in the dark room. You didn't remember having a nightmare, so why were you suddenly awake?

The answer to your question came in the form of a sharp, deep inhale from beside you. Immediately, a shaky exhale followed, just as loud and forceful.

"...Min?" You called out quietly, turning to your right. You could see the rough outline of your boyfriend, lying on the bed with his back to you. The sheets he usually liked to bury himself in were pulled down to his waist, revealing his broad, pajama-clad back.

Despite the darkness, you could see his chest and shoulders rise and fall with every tight breath, looking almost painful with the clear tension in each movement.

You quickly sat up, leaning over to place a gentle hand on his hip. "Mingi? Baby, are you okay?"

All you got in return was a small, watery whine, making you that much more concerned. Worrying at your bottom lip, you leaned back to turn on your bedside lamp. With the room now cast in a warm, soft, yellow light, you shuffled closer to peer over Mingi's shoulder.

If the labored breathing wasn't enough cause for concern, the tears rolling down his cheeks definitely were.

"Honey please, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Mingi's breath stuttered as he tried to get his voice under control, eyes squeezed shut. "I- I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Fuck," you muttered, quickly straightening back up. "Can you stand up? No, wait, let me go get the bowl-"

"No!" Mingi suddenly caught your hand before you could remove it from his hip, grip surprisingly tight considering the tremors in his arm. "Please, please don't leave, I don't want to- I can't- I'm scared."

You quickly put your hand back on his hip, holding him securely while you lay back down. Even if Mingi's frantic behavior gave you an idea of what might be happening, it didn't ease your inner panic whatsoever. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm right here, alright? It will pass soon, don't worry."

Mingi just weakly nodded in return, clearly unconvinced. His breaths slowed down just a bit but grew that much deeper in turn. "Y/N, I-" his voice cut off as he choked on something between a gag and a sob, making him heave even more. "I can't breathe."

Despite the fear in his statement, Mingi's words further confirmed your suspicions.

"Honey, are you having a panic attack?" You asked softly, watching his body exhaust itself with more labored breaths. The sight pained you, but you knew you couldn't give in to your own panic right now. You had to be here for your lover.

"I don't know," Mingi whimpered, bracing himself as another wave of nausea hit him, "maybe?"

Okay, you should be able to work with that. Hopefully.

You moved to lie right against him, chest pressing into his back. The hand on his hip traveled upward, resting against his waist and stomach. Like this, your fingers felt every rise and fall of his chest, keeping track without putting too much pressure on his ribcage.

"Try to breathe with me, love," you whispered into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. "I know it feels like you're suffocating, but you'll be okay, trust me."

Despite his inner doubts, Mingi replied with the tiniest "Okay". The room fell silent again, save for your slow, calm breaths and Mingi's hard, tight ones. For the first minute or two, Mingi couldn't match you for the life of him. Every time he tried to slow down, he felt like he was going to pass out, throw up, or both. Only after you spoke up again, whispering small words of love and encouragement, did his breathing finally start to calm down.

"There you go," you cooed in his ear. "I'm so proud of you, baby, keep going."

Mingi's heart warmed at your praise, easing the nauseous anxiety churning within. The feeling that he was going to throw up began subsiding, along with the tightness in his lungs.

"Thank you," he muttered a few moments later, relaxing into the mattress. At last, the worst of it seemed to be over, easing his panic about possibly dying.

"There's nothing to thank me for," you replied softly, snuggling further into his back now that he was less likely to be uncomfortable by your touch. "How are you feeling?"

He hummed to himself as he assessed his state, grabbing your hand on his waist to fully wrap it around his middle. "Definitely a lot better. It's still a bit hard to breathe but it's going away, I think."

"Good," you sighed into his neck. "I'm sorry you had to go through that in the first place, though. Waking up to a panic attack is anything but pleasant, but you did really well."

"...You really think it was a panic attack?" Mingi questioned, turning around to look at you. "I mean, it would certainly be one of the better reasons for why this all happened, but still... What is there to panic over in one's sleep?"

You chuckled at his question, squeezing him tighter in your hold. "I don't know, babe. You have been pretty stressed lately, so maybe something in your dreams triggered it, who knows. I'm just glad you got through it."

"That makes two of us," Mingi agreed absent-mindedly, too focused on the bright moon outside. "Not gonna lie though, I'm kinda afraid to fall asleep again after this."

The tone of his voice and the small chuckle told you it was supposed to be a joke, but you knew better than that. Despite the tough-guy persona your boyfriend often liked to put on, deep down, he was just as sensitive as everyone else, if not more.

"Don't worry, love," you consoled him, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. "I'm sure everything will be fine now. And even if not, I'm right here to calm you down again. I've got you, always."

Mingi didn't respond for a while, too busy fighting the tears suddenly springing to his eyes. How did those few words from you bring him so much comfort? And what did he do to deserve such a beautiful, loving person by his side?

Mingi didn't know and didn't dare ask. All he needed to know right now was that you were here - with him, for him.

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymmetrical Symphony - Part 2

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N.: Thank you for the fav and comments!! This chapter isn't gonna have much Viktor in it, but I'm just starting to estabelish some things and get the ball rolling. I'll try and update more Vik x you as quick as possible. :D

Part 1

• ··········· • ············ •

The world was spiraling around you. Noises of the past, the present, of another version of the world, blurred and mixed into a weirdly misshapen music. You tried to stop it, pause the song to figure out what’s what. Pull a thread to focus on something, to ground yourself. You inhaled air into your lungs and then expelled it. Every time you breathed out, the sounds became less confusing, like an orchestra finding itself following the maestro. In the end, only the quick buzzing of the world around you was left, as it settled down in a place and time.

You dazedly opened your eyes to a bright ball of light right before you and someone’s hand on your forehead. The sudden memory of the Hex Angel standing on top of you, extracting your soul from your body, flooded your senses, and you had to get away.

Quickly sitting upright, you shoved the construct away, watching with dread as the angel fell and stood up with ease. Their hands up in mock surrender, the mask emotionless.

“Calm down.” It said, with the familiar accent of a friend. “You’re safe.”

“Vik-Viktor stop…” You mumbled at the thing while it tilted its head at you. “Please”

It kept coming closer, its movements slow and deliberate, palms up to you as if it were approaching a scared animal.

In the haziness of trying to get away from it as fast as possible, you felt the ground give away under you, and once more, you were snapped back to focus when you landed on something hard.

The sound that left your lips was less than elegant as your back hit the cold, hard floor. Your body is now fully awakened to every scratch, bruise, and wound.

The first thing you noticed, as you tried to will the pain away, was the hard, smooth surface under your fingertips. Ceramics, cold hard ceramics. You turned your head and opened your eyes to a wall of floor-to-ceiling tiles, arranged in soothing colors. 

You frowned at the familiar sense of the place.

Tilting your head backward, the minty-colored fold screen was unsurprisingly standing between gurneys, confirming where you were. Pilltover’s General Hospital.

And by the present company, maybe you had gone back to your time? Maybe forward? It didn’t make sense if they were here while you still looked human... something happened... Did you change anything that made the HexAngels different? 

The sound of footsteps clicking on the floor was enough to get your mind back to the situation at hand. You tried to move, but something was grabbing your extended arm.

Your gaze followed the extent of your arm until it reached a cuffed wrist. Your cuffed wrist. They had cuffed your arm to the bed. You pulled at the restraint, testing it. It rattled but didn’t open, as expected.

“It’s alright…” The Herald’s modified voice scrambled into a warm woman's tone, its footsteps coming closer and closer.

That’s new. You snapped your neck to the voice, inching as far as you could from it. 

The shape that appeared from behind the bed shifted from an abnormally beautiful construct to a tall and thin nurse. 

“What the…” You looked at her face. A smile plastered on her face, hands stretched toward you. “Where am I?”

She gave the expected answer, but she did not understand the depth of your question. 

“Why am I cuffed to the bed?” You asked, not moving from your seat on the floor, your backside becoming cold under the hospital gown.

“Officer Caitlyn wants to speak with you. You were found unconscious in the rubble of the attack.” The nurse went to grab you, and you swatted her hand as your vision layered her hand with a gold claw. She frowned.

“The rocket attack..." You mumbled, and she nodded.

“Quite the spectacle. If it had been in the Lanes, nobody would care.” She whispered, but you heard her.

“People died." You snapped, her eyes locking with yours.

“People die every day.” Her face contorted into a scowl, and you noticed a familiar accent in her speech, hidden behind the effort to sound Pilltovian. She’s from the Undercity.

You looked her in the eyes, and her indifference was palpable. She moved to grab you, but instead, she held her arm out. 

“Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

You wrapped your free hand on the forearm and pulled yourself up, towering over her.

“There we go.” She patted the bed, and you complied, sitting on it. She stood in front of you, grabbing a tiny silver flashlight from her pocket and lifting it with one hand while the other went towards your face.

Reality shifted, and once again her hand transformed into a golden claw with white fingers. You swatted it away and moved your face out of reach.

“No touching?” She asked, and you nodded, her following your movement a second later. “Very well. But I need to check you.”

“I’m fine.” you said, and she rolled her eyes.

“You survived a rocket hit to the head. Trust me, you are fine because we gave you drugs.”

You felt the corners of your lips turn up at her sass. With the faint accent, it was like you were back at the Talis Lab.

"Just don’t touch the face.” 

“Very well, then you have to do it.”

She instructed you to pull your lower eyelids down, pull at your cheeks, and even gave you the tongue suppressor to look at the back of your throat.

“You seem very comfortable around someone in cuffs.” You told her as she gently peeled the gauze from a wound in your arm.

“People talk. From what’s been going around, you ran into the figurative building on fire. Sure, you knocked around a few enforcers, but sometimes they do need some sense knocked into them.” 

You enjoyed it as her accent became more and more pronounced the more she talked. Memories of good old times flooded your mind when another Undercity crossover would talk your ear off as you fine-tuned your instrument. You knew that accent by heart, even mocking him by mimicking it.

“How long ago did you cross the bridge?” You whispered, not wanting to divulge that information to the world. She raised an eyebrow.

“A few years back, before nursing school.” She kept choking your wounds. “How did you figure it out?”

“The way you speak. I knew…know…knew someone, a friend, a close friend who spoke like that. They were…are…from the other side as well.” You cleared your throat and gave her your best Viktor impression. “If you don’t succeed at first, you must try again, after hiding the evidence, of course."

“That’s pretty good, actually. People here judge on sound alone. I’ve been hiding it for years, and you caught it in minutes.” She grinned.

“It does take practice and a good ear.” 

You both fell into a comfortable silence, her checking your wounds and you reminiscing about the old days.

“When was the attack?” You asked suddenly, and she looked up from examining your ankle.

“Two nights.”

“What time is it now?” 

“7 AM.”

“Who survived?”

“You.” She grinned. “Councilor Medarda, Councillor Talis, Councillor Shoola, and Councillor Salo.”

Your ears drowned with the sound of your heartbeat. Did you go through all of this for this to end up the same way? Were you going to lose your friend again?

"Ah, yes, someone else was found in the rubble.” Your eyes snapped open as she got up from her crouched position. “The other Hextech founder... What’s his face? Lanky, tall, always standing behind Councilor Talis.

"Viktor?” You whispered, and she nodded.

“Yes, that one.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He is alive. For now. The calmness you had from the news was quickly replaced by another violent attack soon.

“Did they announce the remembrance speech day?” You asked quickly.

“I don’t think they even announced the public funeral dates, let alone announce the speech day.” She scribbled something on the board at the foot of your bed. “Well, my job here is done. I hope they go easy on you.”

She nodded, and you nodded back, turning to lay back down on the bed.

You had to figure out a way to stop that speech day. Or stop Mel, Jayce, and Viktor from attending, which would be impossible since Mel would be the one giving out the speech and Jayce was going to follow Mel and Viktor was going to follow Jayce. Or be made to, since these types of events were far from his favorite thing.

Time traveling is complicated, especially when nobody seems to know you.

You frowned. Why did nobody know you? I mean, the enforcers at the hexgate sure, but the ones in the Academy? You were practically a light fixture there, with the amount of time you spent inside.

And then it hit you like a rocket. They didn’t know you because you either didn’t exist or had a completely other life. So there was another possibility to your whole existence in this place. You could have time traveled, yes, but what was stopping whatever did this to you from making you jump through time and space?

What if this was another dimension, another universe, another timeline? What if the gods or whoever was trying to add variants to the timeline and see what got them the best results? 

Your head was about to explode with this new information. Being cuffed to this bed in this brightly lit room was not helping the situation either.

You needed to get out. Without knowing what was the catalyst in this universe for the rise of the Herald, you couldn't stop it. You could warn Viktor; what better way to stop him from himself if he knew the consequences? But what if warning him was exactly what made him go through with it? His magnum opus actually worked for better or worse.

Introducing a single keystroke of a sonata could change the whole tune. You had to warn him, discreetly. Which you couldn’t because you were cuffed to a bed.

Reality moved, and for the first time since it did, you focused on it. It felt like when you’d be in the lab and you could feel a spark of something in the wrong place, waiting for the right circumstance to zap. Another whisper. A soundless gasp reverberated around you. The sound of metal vibrating as it’s struck made waves around you, like a stone that hit the water. 

You managed to decipher, in between the waves, a new rune. 

Whatever powers were drip-feeding you, these runes hadn’t failed you yet. You looked around for a pen, a dusty surface. Nothing. You looked at the hand with the rune scarred into it. Nothing.

You looked at the side table. A glass of water. You tilted it on the table, but as you drew the rune, you watched as it became disfigured. The water wasn’t keeping its shape on the flat surface.

Quickly, you patted the side of your bedding down, making it as smooth as possible. When it was flat enough, you dipped your fingers in the water and drew the rune on the sheet.

Stop the attack. Flick. Nothing.

Did you need it to be broader or more detailed? You tried again.

Save Piltover. Flick. Nothing

Stop the Herald. Flick. Nothing

You flailed your hands around in frustration. The rattling of the cuff on the metal side of the bed echoing around is this wrapped reality. 

"Just unlock, you piece of—"

Growing frustrated, you punched the rune. Something clicked, and your hand was freed.

The world got back to normal, and you inspected your wrist, your gaze shifting from your wrist to the cuff. 

You shook your head to clear it and immediately made your way out of the bed, limping your way out of the six-bed infirmary. Some of the orderlies looked at you sharply, but with the attack they seemed to have their hands full, choosing to effectively ignore you. 

You grabbed someone’s jacket from the foot of a bed and put it on, thanking the gods they had kept your socks on.

The hospital was crowded, and you took that opportunity to make your way towards the exit. You kept your walk brisk and your head down, trying to walk around everything and everybody. Your heart was at your throat. Sneaking was never your forte; the last time you did, your father caught you halfway out the gates of the manor. You sighed, remembering the way he made fun of you more than argued. Footsteps light as a cannonball. You were usually the distraction for the sneaking, being the preferred go-to person for when the boys wanted to sneak a particular piece of equipment into the lab and didn’t need anyone to know. Especially Heimerdinger.

Forgetting your misadventures for a moment, you look up and see the glass doors, and beyond them the street. A couple of more steps. You quickened your pace, breaking into a small, limping run towards the doors.

The fresh air made you stop as it hit you in the face and you realized how damp and dense the air in the hospital was. You took a deep breath and started to make your way towards the sidewalk, looking up at the street, trying to map in your head the easiest way to get to the Academy, maybe even Viktor’s apartment, and if both failed, the Skyward Clinic, the topside private hospital. If any of them was hurt, that's where they would place them.

With your route mentally traced, you turned around to go down the correct route when something—or better, someone—made you stop dead in your tracks.

The Sheriff of Piltover to be, Caitlyn Kiraman, was standing right behind you. One eyebrow raised, arms crossed, eyes red and puffy. The scowl on her face contorting her pretty features.

You are about to run in the other direction, knowing that getting sent to jail would not help in your 'save-Piltover-from-the-Hextech-co-creator-genius-by-saving-said-Hextech-co-creator-genius’ plan when you feel the presence of two people behind you.

“I am not in the mood for games,” Caitlyn said, her voice matching her rigid stance. “If you are well enough to walk, you are well enough to talk. I can bring you in conscious or not. Your choice.”

“Why am I being arrested?” You asked, knowing full well that the trail of unconscious enforcers you left behind two days ago wasn’t exactly lawful.

She simply nodded to the enforcers behind you. They grabbed your arms unceremoniously and cuffed you, shoving you in the back of an Enforcer van.

············ • ············

Groaning, you rest your forehead on the table, the cool temperature of the metal helping the headache. You are sitting inside a concrete room, with your hands cuffed to the table. Caitlyn had left you there to stew.

"I'll be back... eventually." She had spat as she closed and locked the door.

With nothing but time to think, you went through your magic runes. With a limited range of motion, you started by drawing them on the dusty table without any intent for them, pushing them out with a tap of your finger.

Move. Tap. A miniscule part of the table seemed to become liquid, like you had thrown a pebble into a calm river, but nothing shifted or moved.

Unlock. Tap. Both of the cuffs and the door behind you clicked open, and you slowly looked between them.

Before you could get up and walk out, the door slammed open with a very puzzled Caitlyn standing just outside. She looked at the door and then you. Shrugging, you turned back to the table, quickly clicking your wrists together to reclose the cuffs.

“Who are you?” She asked, dismissing whatever thought she had previously.

You answer with your name. First and last.

“Adding ‘identity theft’ to your crimes isn’t going to help you. Who are you?”

Nodding your sighed content. If it’s identity theft, then there is someone with that name. Maybe you’d meet yourself and the dimension would implode. Or they could help you. 

“I would like to speak with my father, Counsellor Rainemour.”

Cailyn raised an eyebrow at your question, setting the folder down and watching you with hawk eyes.

“There is no Counsellor Rainemour.” She stated,coldly.

“But the Rainemours are in Piltover, yes?”

“Enough with this! Who are you? The truth! Now!”

You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know how to. So, you repeated your name. She groaned and sat down in front of you.

“Do you know who Jinx is?”

"No.” you lied.

“Do you have anything to do with the attack on the Council of Piltover?”

“Ah… That’s why it’s you. No…”

And finally the penny dropped. The reason why it was Caitlyn who was questioning you. She had been such a normal face to talk to, to look at, to bounce ideas with, that it didn’t dawn on you why she was the one talking to you now. The daughter and soon-to-be head of the Kiraman family. She thought you had something to do with the rocket attack.

“Then what were you doing in the council room?”

“I was trying to warn the councilors about it.”

“So you knew about it,” she shot quickly.

“Knowing of a crime and being involved in it are two very different things.” You fired back. “Why am I being arrested?”

“Trespassing on government grounds, assaulting several officers of the law, entering a governmental space without authorization, and last but not least involvement in the rocket attack that left several of the councilors dead or injured.”

You looked at her and made sure she was looking at you, seeing the frown grow deeper as you raised an eyebrow.

Counselor Rainemour liked to argue. He was a lawyer; his whole life was about arguing. Whether it was about Piltover's government or about the ant's right to the sugar in the house. And you loved to argue back. You not only had the patience but also the stubbornness and willingness to argue with your father. You never won, but you also absorbed anything he gave you. Laws, regulations, how the system worked—you were a sponge. If for nothing else, to use it in a following discussion.

“First, I never intended to trespass. I didn't even know I was trespassing. If you don’t know who I am, then I am not in the Piltover's identification system, which means I am not from Piltover. I took a wrong turn.” You leaned back into the chair, the pride and arrogance of a Topsider dripping on every word. You hated to admit this, but sometimes you missed being this person.

“And ended up inside our most complex method of transportation?” She shot back.

“I’m a visitor; how do I know what the inside of the most complex method of transportation in Piltover looks like?”

“You are not a visitor.” She spat and sat down. “It took you 4 minutes and 45 seconds to go from the top floor of the Gate to the Council room. You took shortcuts and straight lines toward the Academy. You are not a visitor.”

You shrugged at her humorless grin. 

“Circumstantial, I may just have a very good sense of direction.” She was about to open her mouth, and you raised a finger. "Secondly, the only officer I assaulted was the one at the gate, and technically it could be considered self-defense. I was confused. He was shoving me. I got scared. He was a very intimidating figure.”

“What about the other ones?” She gritted her teeth and leaned forward.

“What other ones? I didn’t touch anybody else. Ask them. For all we know, they tripped and fell.”

Some part of you was proud to be deflecting all of this; the other knew Caitlyn wouldn’t just forgive and forget. If you got out with even so much as a fine, she would hunt you down.

“Third: "Forcibly" already indicates that it lacked authorization or consent to do whatever you are accusing me of. However...” Now the big finale. “Page 450 of the Piltover’s Government Guidelines, City Emergency chapter, 1st paragraph: any citizen of Piltover is allowed unauthorized entrance to the council chamber if the need to inform the council of a threat to the city is urgent and cannot be delayed. This entrance can be done even if the council is in session.”

You took a little pride in remembering this little snippet. Even if the reason you knew it was not because of your father. In fact, you knew it because Viktor had once made a miscalculation on a hextech concept that Jayce was about to present to the council. So he had burst into the room to try and warn their friend mid-session.

Turns out, saving your friend's face from total academic embarrassment is not a threat to the city.

“You must be really stupid.” At the insult, you narrowed your eyes. "Going on and on with your technicalities, knowing I can use it against you.”

There was one insult that had always made your blood boil. Stupid. You could be called dumb, ditzy, or unintelligent. Anything but stupid. Your Caitlyn knew that; your Caitlyn was the first to punch someone when they did it.

“My father is a lawyer, Miss Kiraman.” Your face turned cold, your tone hard. The shift was enough to make Caitlyn’s eyebrows go up for a millisecond. “He thrived on technicalities. And you can’t use shit from what I just said. You didn’t read me my rights. Nothing I said since you stepped foot in the room can or will be used against me. This…” You pointed between the two of you. “Is nothing more than two friends catching up. Your grief is clouding your judgment.”

For a second, the tension was as loud as a trumpet, and the silence was as thick as a fog. Caitlyn slammed her hands on the table and leaned into it, getting her face an inch away from yours, only to be stopped by someone shoving the door open.

“What are you doing, Miss Kiraman?” An unfamiliar female voice announced from behind you.

············ • ············

Viktor didn’t believe in luck. 

Because if he did, all his accomplishments could have been derived from it. So he just didn’t believe in it much. Sure, maybe finding some coins on the floor was luck, but not much more than that.

Everything he did and does is to make sure nothing is left to luck or chance. Every number on the blackboard, every calculation on his blueprints.

But now, standing in the middle of the destroyed council room, Viktor felt lucky. Extremely lucky.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @adithsaley @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa

[harmonyrae]

The Doctor's Wife

Synopsis: When you agreed to an arranged marriage to your childhood friend you never imagined it’d be like this. You knew what was expected of you, locking away your wild spirit to be a proper wife. The little boy you knew has grown into a handsome doctor, still as quiet and frigid as you remember. You’re both so different, how will this marriage ever work?

AN: I tried my best to be historically accurate - my Google history is crazy. I now have 10 pages of notes dude... Some modern terms are used for a smoother reading experience. Images from Pinterest.

Content Warnings: SFW (future works could have NSFW elements fyi), slightly suggestive, SO MUCH TENSION, angst & fluff & humor, religious elements (vows), Zayne is Mr. Darcy coded and I am unwell

Word Count: 6.5k

“I cannot believe you are going through with this… You were supposed to be more troublesome than I was! And here you are, avoiding the miserable experience all-together.”

Sera unwraps another curl and twirls it. She stares at you through the mirror of your dressing table, her glare speaking volumes. You wince as she tugs another wrap out, freeing the curl. You pick at your fingernails and sigh.

“Seems Mama learned from your mistakes - ow!”

Sera pulls another wrap out, harsher than she needs. You turn around to face her, forcing her to stop torturing your poor scalp. Your bedroom door opens and Cora and Theo enter. Theo sets down a cup of tea in front of you before shooing Sera away. She starts to gently unwrap your curls while Sera sits on your bed with Cora.

“But agreeing to an arranged marriage? Winnie…”

“We all know I wasn’t going to find a match without Mama’s intervention. You’re right Sera, I am more troublesome. This is easier and… and I want… this.”

Cora nudges Sera and she crosses her arms, agreeing to let the matter rest. When Cora meets your eye her smile wavers. She straightens her back and takes a deep breath.

“Has Mama… spoken to you?”

You squint at her, your brain foggy after the many conversations your mother has had with you lately. From the proposal of the arrangement, the fitting of your wedding dress, confirmation of the special license, she notices your confusion and continues.

“About… what… ahem… about marital duties?”

You laugh so hard you bump the leg of your dressing table, nearly spilling your tea. Your sisters simply stare at you, all wearing serious expressions. When you realize they want an answer you clear your throat and fold your hands.

“You are referring to intercourse?”

“Winnie!” All of your sisters shout in unison.

You burst into another fit of giggles, prompting Sera and Cora to stand and huddle around you. You look around at them and grin. You missed this, saying something to rile them up. It’s who you are, not at all sensible and rather wild - as your mother would say. 

“Winifred, how do you know about… that?”

Cora inches closer and whispers, you know she is worried you’ve been indecent. You’re starting to wonder if the truth may be worse. 

“I read a book.”

“What kind of book?! And where did you get it?” 

Sera doesn’t bother whispering and Cora slaps her shoulder. Theo finishes unwrapping your curls and begins pinning them back, she leans forward, just as eager to know. 

“Zayne could read his fathers books, I did not see a reason why I could not. So I stole one. Brought it home to read, forgot about it and found it a few years ago. I’ve read it quite a few times now. It’s all rather fascinating.”

Your neighbor being a doctor was extremely helpful, especially with Ellie being sick so often when she was young. Zayne always accompanied his father on his visits and quickly became your friend. He was a quiet child with his nose in a book while you ran wild, catching frogs and building dirt castles. But when you’d spend afternoons at his home, he would suggest the library. Zayne would read out-loud and you found yourself mesmerized by the content. You regularly requested the medical books and he was happy to comply. Your insatiable curiosity pushed you to steal one of them to read for yourself.

You point to the loose floorboard at the end of your bed and Sera spins, diving down to fish out the book. She holds it up and her brow furrows. 

“It… It’s about childbirth?”

You nod and chuckle as she opens it, flipping through the pages with a grimace. 

“Apparently, one cannot properly explain the intricacies of childbirth without explaining how the child came to be in the first place. Our bodies are fascinating, no?”

“Does your future husband know you stole one of his fathers books?” Cora teased.

When your mother told you Zayne’s parents were arranging his marriage and were requesting you - you were stunned, but not against it. You cried when he went away to university. Then argued when he came home just to leave for medical school a few weeks later. And you spent weeks in bed anxious he would never return from the battlefield where he served as a surgeon. He is one of your dearest friends, his company agreeable, his livelihood secure, you didn’t see a reason to decline.

“Well, his father never asked for it back when they moved last autumn. So I assume not.” 

“Explain to me once more how Zayne gained his title?” Theo asks.

“The Earl of Akso died without an heir and he had no living male relatives. The Queen had to grant the title, and the estate, to someone and she chose Zayne.”

“Why Zayne?” Sera exclaims, earning her harsh stares from both Cora and Theo.

“He was a sawbone.” 

“A what?” All of your sisters shout in unison, once again.

“A surgeon in the army. Apparently, he was the most trusted when it came to amputations. He never lost a patient who needed one. His superiors recommended him to the Queen. He was granted the new title and the land as a reward of sorts for his service.”

“So he is an Earl and a surgeon. He would have had every young lady in the Ton vying for his attention. Why would he want an arranged marriage?” Theo asks.

Cora urges Sera and Theo to step back. She extends a hand to help you up and leads you to stand in front of your mirror. She retrieves your dress and comes up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Have you seen him since he returned?” 

You look down and adjust your stay, pulling the strings tighter. Cora sighs and taps your arms, you raise them and she slips the dress over your head. Cora smoothes out the ivory silk, fluffing the ruffles around the collar while you straighten the lace sleeves that fan over your fingers. She turns you around and swats your hands away so she can button the front.

“Can we return to the topic of how this book prepares you for this evening?”

Sera holds the book up and smirks. You feel your cheeks flush.

“I know what is expected of me. It does not serve me to be anxious over it.”

Sera frowns and drops the book to your bed. She walks over to hold your trembling hands. 

“To be anxious is to be human, Winnie. You’re getting married today. You’re going to be a Countess. That is certainly worthy of a bit of anxiety.”

She smiles sweetly and you finally allow your shoulders to slump forward. Cora pulls you into a hug, Sera wrapping her arms around both of you. Soon, you feel Theo at your back. You close your eyes, allowing your sisters to hold you in their safe embrace. The creaking of your door makes you jump and you look up to see your mother watching you all. Her eyes fill with tears and she rushes forward to join. You chuckle as she lets out a muffled sob. 

“My sweet girls.”

The hug does not last long, Ms Jennings arrives to announce the carriage is ready and your mother pulls you towards the door. You glance over your shoulder to look around your bedroom. 

“Mama, please make sure my books are stored properly before they are sent. And my dressing table, I still want it, even if there is one for me at the estate, I want this one. And –”

“My dear, Ms Jennings already made arrangements with Ms Lucas at Akso manor. We must get to the church, come now!”

Sera grabs your mothers arm and leads her out of the room. Cora and Theo follow closely behind, allowing you a moment to yourself. A moment to say goodbye to your childhood. Whatever your future as the Countess of Akso may hold, you doubt your wild spirit will be welcomed. As you close your bedroom door you feel as if you’re locking a part of yourself away.

The ride to the church wasn’t long, but due to Cora’s condition you had to make several… stops. When you arrive, Rafayel is pacing outside of the church. Cora giggles as she tries to calm him, making the rest of you giggle in return.

“I was certain the carriage's wheel snapped or a wild animal attacked! What happened?!”

“Darling, you know I’ve been getting sick more frequently, especially in the morning.”

“Did you drink the ginger tea? Your mother said she would make you a cup before you departed! Why did you not drink it?!”

“Rafayel! I did drink the tea! I… I still…”

Cora’s smile fades as her breathing turns heavy. She rushes around the side of the church with Rafayel right behind her. 

“She is carrying more than one child, I’m sure of it. She was not nearly as ill when carrying Leonardo. Poor girl can barely eat.”

Your mother has been speculating ever since Cora and Rafayel told her. Sylus and Caleb stand just inside the church doors waiting for their wives. Caleb quickly circles around Theo, his hand placing hers on his arm. Just like Rafayel and Sylus, when Caleb found out Theo was with child she was suddenly made of glass. Caleb leans close and whispers in Theo’s ear. 

“Did you know Winnie’s betrothed was a military surgeon? Nearly fainted when he walked in. That’s the doctor!”

Theo gasps and tries to peek through the doors.

“The doctor who saved your arm? I must remember to thank him!”

Your mother places a hand on your back and you pause. Sylus and Sera walk into the chapel hand in hand, followed by Caleb and Theo. Rafayel and Cora shuffle into the corridor and your mother pats Cora’s damp forehead with a handkerchief before they stroll down the aisle to their seats. You straighten your collar over and over until your mother grabs your hands.

“I’m so proud of you darling.”

You force a smile. You weren’t particularly nervous about the marriage, but the thought of standing in front of a crowd made your stomach drop. You clutch her hand and she leads you through the door.

You let your mother lead you, focusing on each step and keeping your breathing steady. However, all of your willpower disappeared as soon as you looked up at the altar. The little boy you knew was long gone, in his place stood a tall gentleman with a frigid expression. While he may look intimidating, you were not easily frightened. Especially when he looked so incredibly handsome. His dark hair was the same, longer and more fringe across his forehead. Dark eyebrows framed brilliant green eyes, his mouth set in a barely there smile. His pressed black suit clung to his trim frame, his shoulders rolled back to keep his chest held high. He met your eyes only once while you walked and swiftly looked away. When you arrived at the altar you were sinking your nails into your mothers hand. 

“Winifred… please.” Your mother whispered. 

You loosened your grip, but remained frozen in place. The priest, Father Hartford, nods and steps forward, looking between you and Zayne before addressing the audience.

“We are gathered together here today, before God and this congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony. This union, an example of the promise betwixt Christ and his Church, its purpose honourable amongst all men. These vows are not to be taken lightly, or to satisfy men’s carnal lusts; but taken reverently, soberly; considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained. If any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else forever hold his peace.”

You look over your shoulder at the small audience, Zayne’s family sit quietly and yours follow suit. Your mother digs her elbow into your side and you face forward to see Father Hartford staring at you. You flash a smile and lower your head.

“I shall now ask both of you, if either of you know any reason, why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, confess it now.”

You quickly look up to see Zayne eyeing you. He returns his gaze to the floor. Father Hartford continues.

“Zayne, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

“I will.” Zayne says quietly.

“Winifred, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

Hearing the word “obey” makes you shudder, but you grit your teeth and swallow your pride.

“I will.”

“Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

Father Hartford steps forward and your mother passes your hands to him, he guides you forward to stand in front of Zayne. He releases you and motions for Zayne to step up. Zayne reaches out and takes your right hand. You shiver as his skin touches yours. Father Hartford begins to quote the vows and Zayne repeats them. 

“I, Zayne, take thee Winifred, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.”

Father Hartford turns to face you, quoting the vows again. Keeping your eyes locked on Zayne’s hand, you repeat them slowly.

“I, Winifred, take thee Zayne, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance.”

Father Hartford then turns to pick up a small case, opened to reveal a ring. The thin silver band holds a stunning sapphire with two pearls on either side. You gasp and glance around to give apologetic looks to those around you. Zayne’s timid smile brightens as he picks up the ring and carefully removes the glove from your left hand. His voice shakes as he quotes his final vow to you, sliding the ring on your finger. 

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

He holds your hand and turns, both of you kneel before Father Hartford who begins his lengthy prayer. Of course he has to thank every saint, today of all days. He finally looks down and motions for you both to stand. 

“As Zayne and Winifred, have consented together in holy wedlock, witnessed before God and this congregation. I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The rest of the ceremony is a blur, Father Hartford sings one final hymn to bless your future children and everyone signs the register as they file out of the chapel. You barely realize you haven’t let go of Zayne’s hand once since receiving your ring. You keep waiting for him to let go, but he doesn’t. You exit the church and walk past your families, Zayne helps you into his carriage. He sits across from you, finally releasing your hand. The door closes and the carriage pulls away, headed back to your family home for the Wedding Breakfast. 

Your eyes stay focused on the ring on your finger, gently stroking it through your glove. Zayne clears his throat and you jump. When you look up, you see him watching you. 

“You look… lovely today.”

It feels like the words were painful to say, but you nod and thank him for the compliment. The rest of the ride is quiet. Zayne stares at a small notebook he pulled from his breast pocket and you watch the winding streets pass by. Arriving at your home - well, your previous home - Zayne helps you out once again and you hold his arm while you walk inside. He isn’t pushing you away, but his indifference is confusing. You’re not sure if he’s happy or irritated. 

The liveliness of the Wedding Breakfast doesn’t help ease your nerves. Your mother and Zayne’s mother engage in, what you like to call, a polite argument over a “motherly duties.” Sera joins in and, in her kindest tone, tells Zayne’s mother that a woman can do anything she pleases. Cora decides not to comment, since the argument started over her performance with Rafayel in Verona. She sips her ginger tea by the window and watches Rafayel and Sylus play with their children. 

“Sylus, Sephie has her feeding soon, don’t tease her with cake!” 

Sylus puts the cake down and gives his daughter an apologetic look. She starts to tear up so Rafayel tickles her to stop the waterworks. Persephone bursts out into a fit of giggles which causes Leonardo to throw his hands up in excitement, tossing cake crumbles all over the floor. 

The past year has been overwhelming with two babies squealing and babbling. Between Theo getting married and both of your sisters having babies early in the summer you didn’t have much time to yourself. You had completely forgotten your debut was coming up. Your mother seemed to be equally overwhelmed, it was clear she wanted to marry you off quickly and quietly if possible. A notion you welcomed, no balls or promenading? Perfect. 

Sera takes Persephone away for a feeding. Sylus offers to hold Leonardo for Rafayel, who curls up behind Cora to massage her shoulders. Caleb and Theo watch Ellie play the piano. Your mother avoids Zayne’s mother by leaving to “check on the kitchen staff.” Zayne’s mother and father collect another slice of cake while telling Zayne about their plans for their new life in Prague. You enjoy your people watching time, since sooner than later you’ll be ushered into the carriage with Zayne and taken to his estate. Your mind starts to wander as you twist the ring on your finger.

What if Zayne is disappointed in your… performance? He went to university in a big city, surely he partook in certain… activities…  Isn’t that how men bond while away at school? Will he expect you to bare a child quickly?  What if you cannot have children at all? 

“Winnie?”

Zayne’s soft voice brings you out of your spiral. He extends his hand.

“Are you prepared to leave?”

Taking his hand you stand and are guided to the front door. You hadn’t realized everyone had already gone outside to see you off. Your mother lunges at you, pulling you into a hug. She’s not usually so expressive with her emotions. Your sisters wrangle you into another group hug before you give your niece and nephew a kiss on the forehead. Sylus, Rafayel and Caleb shout their goodbyes. Zayne’s parents wish you well and Zayne helps you into the carriage. And just like that, your old life is left in the dust kicked up by the carriage wheels.

A few quiet minutes later, you convince yourself to start a conversation. Zayne sits on his side of the carriage, scribbling in his notebook. You try to see what he’s writing, but the carriage jostles you around too much to get a good look. You clear your throat, earning you an inquisitive glance.

“Do you recall when I was angry with you for leaving for medical school?”

He hums softly.

“Well, I was not truly angry. I should not have shouted at you as I did. You were traveling abroad to study and I was… possibly…”

“Jealous?”

His accuracy is almost painful, but true. 

“Perhaps. I never had the chance to apologize before you were sent away…”

“There is no need.”

“Well, I was worried… is all… You went away and I wasn’t sure you’d… come back.”

“The medical centers were well protected. I was never in too much danger.”

You scoff loudly. He raises a brow and you cross your arms.

“I heard of a doctor from Madrid who died serving at one of those ‘well protected’ centers. You don’t have to make it seem safer than it was for my sake.”

“You’re right. I also don’t have to talk about it all.”

You open your mouth to argue, but decide against it. Maybe talking about his time as an army surgeon was not a good idea. You tap your foot and search for a new topic. 

“Oh, I saw you quite enjoyed the macarons. Rafayel bribed a baker at a coffeehouse in Verona to give him the recipe. Private box seats every season. Rafayel said it’s completely worth it. Mama’s cook has gotten very good at making them. The first few batches were horrendous! But now, they are almost always served at tea. I can… try to get the recipe… if you like… or–”

“Thank you. That is very kind.”

His short answers leave you questioning your previous relationship with him. It had been so easy to talk to him, not that he offered many words back then, but he was just… different. You decide to just look out the window for the remainder of the ride. It’s not long before you see lights in the distance. You scoot over and pull the drape back to get a better look. 

The huge three-story manor was more like a palace than a house. Set at the center of a large plot of land with a dense treeline at the edge of the meadow. A large garden, a barn, a stable, the buildings kept popping up. From the carriage you see the crisp white window panes against dark brick, thick ivy covering walls and corners of windows. 

“Is all of this… how much… where…?”

You can’t form a sentence, the fact this is your new home completely baffles you.

“Several acres past the treeline. I’ve been told there’s a lake and separate servant housing, but have yet to see it for myself. The entire west wing is at your disposal. Speak with Ms Lucas in regards to any furniture you may need. A bedroom has been made up for you, she will show you where it is once we arrive.”

His words slowly sink in and your chest tightens. How could you discuss these things with your sisters without hesitation, but now you can barely breath? 

“Are we not… we won’t be…”

“I do not expect anything from you Winnie. I will be quite busy as my father is leaving for Prague tomorrow, so I will be the only physician in the city. You may live as you please, I will not interfere. I only ask that you inform me of any events you wish to attend or host. Ms Lucas will show you where my study is, that is where I will be most often if you have need of me.”

“Zayne, we are married…”

“Yes, and I see no reason for that to interfere with our lives.”

The carriage comes to a stop in front of the manor. An older woman approaches and waits for the coachman to open the door. Zayne hops out and offers you his hand. You don’t bother to take it, he’s sending you to a separate WING of the house? 

The woman steps forward and Zayne gestures to her.

“This is Ms Lucas. Ms Lucas, this is Winifred.”

“Please, call me Winnie.”

She curtsies - that will take some getting used to. Zayne straightens his jacket and starts to walk for the front doors. He calls out over his shoulder before entering the house.

“I shall see you at breakfast.”

And just like that, he is gone, disappeared into his labyrinth of a house. Leaving you alone with Ms Lucas and your questions. 

“What do you mean you haven’t –”

“Sera!”

Cora tosses a biscuit at Sera’s head. She glares at her and Sera grumbles under her breath as she picks up the biscuit to dip in her tea. You set your cup down and cover your face with your hands. Theo instantly leans over and wraps her arm around you.

“Perhaps he is being considerate? It was an arrangement after all, you did not court or even have a moment to speak before your wedding day.” 

Theo offers a reasonable explanation, but it does not settle your discontent. 

“Are you upset he hasn���t fulfilled his marital obligations or that you wish for him to pursue you and he has not yet?”

“Sera, you really must try the strawberry macarons Mr Tribble made this morning! Here!”

Cora shoves a puffy pink macaron into Sera’s mouth. Sera tries to push Cora away and gives a muffled shout as crumbles fall from her mouth. You stare at your hands to hide your flushed cheeks. You and Sera have always been so similar, making it much easier for her to read you. Sera finally tosses etiquette aside to speak with her mouth full.

“I will not hold my tongue any longer! Are we not all married? Do we not care about Winnie’s happiness? She clearly brought it up to ask us for help!”

Before Cora can shove another macaron into Sera’s mouth you reach out and take her hand.

“Sera’s right… I… I don’t trust anyone else. I just… I don’t know what to do…”

“You’ve been married a fortnight, have you not spent time with him?” Theo questions. 

“We have breakfast and dinner together. I spoke with him in the library once and he showed me where he placed his books from university. I inquired about which book I could read and he suggested I start with a book on anatomy.”

“Perhaps he’s impotent!” Sera shouts.

Cora throws her head back and groans while Theo covers her mouth in shock.

“Sera, are you intent on causing me such pain?”

Sera takes Cora’s hand, but doesn’t hide her amusement.

“I have not heard either of you offer a reason for his behavior beyond him being ‘considerate’ - if he’s a man with a pulse he surely has interest. Sylus could barely wait until we were in the carriage before he –”

“I do not wish to know what Sylus did or did not do!” Theo groans.

You find yourself laughing, it’s been so long since your sisters have sat down for tea. Aside from the more intimate topics of discussion, it is like you were children again. Cora clears her throat and shakes her hand out of Sera’s grasp.

“Have you not considered attending a ball? Even if he does not speak to you, he may dance with you? And if not, you have an opportunity to make friends with other married ladies.”

“Why would I do that? I have you all. And I don’t like balls, the dresses are too stiff!”

Cora leans back and rests her hands on her stomach, in just two weeks she has gotten larger and can barely walk. With your fascination and your sister’s current condition, you found more books on childbirth in the library. You discovered birthing twins is rather dangerous. Your attempt to subdue your anxiety was an utter failure.

“My love, Rafayel and I winter in Verona. And once the children are older we may spend more time there.”

“And Sylus’s dukedom is a day and a half away. His responsibilities there mean we do not visit nearly as often. Especially since Sephie was born.” Sera offers.

“Caleb opening the orchard was a brilliant idea, but we were wholly unprepared for how busy the season was. If he is not preparing for the upcoming autumn, he is attending military academies to assist with drills. And this season, we have two garden parties and a gentleman who is determined to host his wedding by the lake.” 

“You’re going to allow another wedding on the property?” Sera exclaims.

“No, ours will be the only wedding the estate hosts. Until our children are grown, of course.”

Theo’s wedding in the orchard was the most talked about wedding of the season. The apple blossoms in full bloom, an onslaught of military men in uniform, the Queen herself in attendance. You sigh, relieved no one else will have the privilege to such an experience, Theo deserved it. And you doubt Caleb would let anyone take that away from her. 

“I mean to say…” Cora continues. “We will not always be here. You need friends, Winnie.”

“I thought I married one…”

You sit in silence as your sisters look to each other for who will speak next. Bowing your head, you stir in another teaspoon of sugar and listen to the soft clink of the spoon against your cup.

“You mentioned… he hasn’t walked the grounds yet?” 

You look at Sera, her usual lighthearted demeanor replaced with a look of concern. You nod.

“Confront him, demand he takes you on a walk. Bring a picnic and only ask questions about him. The more you know, the better prepared you will be when you flirt with him.”

Tea spews from your mouth in a mist, Sera chuckles as Theo and Cora dab at your damp dress with their napkins. Cora glares at her while Theo tries, unsuccessfully, to hide her smile.

“Is that not what you want?”

Sera crosses her arms, you’ve missed her direct approach. Cora leans forward to argue, but you lift your hand and she pauses.

“It is.”

Sera leans back, savoring her victory. Cora and Theo exchange glances, but don’t argue. Sera’s plan was not bad, you only doubt your ability to captivate Zayne long enough to gain his attention. Let alone his affection. 

Two days pass before you finally put the plan in action. Requesting your own cook, Mr Maddston, to learn to bake macarons meant he would have a few failed batches. When he presented you with the perfect cherry macaron, you giggled with excitement. He prepared lunch and packed a basket with a blanket. Now you just need to convince Zayne to join you. 

“He returned home before noon from an appointment. He should be in his study.”

You give Ms Lucas a hug, something she was still getting used to. You are unsure what kind of treatment the previous Countess showed her, but you would break through her rigid exterior sooner or later. You rush down the hallway towards Zayne’s study. You take a breath and knock. When you hear Zayne welcome you in, you quickly open the door, if you wait you might lose your resolve. 

“Oh… hello.”

Zayne looks surprised, you were a few hours too early for dinner. He closes his book and wipes his ink-stained hands on his handkerchief. You enter the room and hold the basket in front of you. Zayne eyes the basket. He’s curious, good.

“You have not yet walked the ground.”

Once again, he looks rather surprised. It is not a question, but a statement. 

“Correct. I have not had the opportunity.”

You step closer so you are directly in front of his desk. He cocks his head and you smile.

“We shall remedy that. I have a picnic and the sun is exceptionally warm today.”

“Winnie… I –”

“I would rather not go alone, so please.”

You watch his expression change from indifference to concern to acceptance. He stands, straightening his jacket. 

“Of course.”

He follows you out of the house and into the garden. He stays by your side as you weave through the gap in the hedges into the open field and towards the dense treeline. Your white linen dress billows in the breeze and the fresh scent of wildflowers washes over you. You stop suddenly and Zayne watches you bend down to touch the ground. Before he can ask, you slip off your shoes and leave them behind, striding across the field barefoot. You look over your shoulder to see him standing next to your shoes, staring. 

“Come on then!”

You wave your arm and beckon him to follow. The ground is soft beneath your feet, the grass and flowers tickling your ankles. Zayne jogs to catch up with you.

“You should not wander through a field without proper shoes, you may hurt yourself.”

You stop once more and turn to look at him. 

“This is the best way to truly walk the grounds. Off!”

You look down at his feet and he stammers.

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“Your shoes. Off!”

He looks at you as though you’ve gone mad. After he realizes you are quite serious, he reluctantly obliges. Leaving his shoes behind, you start to skip towards the treeline. 

Once you’re in the forest, you slow down allowing Zayne to catch up. You walk side-by-side, you’re not sure what you want to ask first or if you should just enjoy the silence. A branch snaps behind you and you squeal, bumping into Zayne. He rests a hand on your shoulder to steady you. When you look back, you watch a young deer hop through the foliage. 

“Oh! Do you think they’re looking for their mother?”

“It’s possible. Or a patch of berries.”

His voice is soft, like when he was young. He was just stating a fact, a thought, nothing special, but this is the Zayne you knew. The Zayne who indulged your whimsy and even encouraged it at times. You’d missed him desperately. 

“Do you still despise hunting?”

You look over to see Zayne nod.

“Then our deer friend is safe here. Good.”

The sun peeks through the dense canopy. Patches of flowers line the path you follow. When you don’t hear Zayne’s footsteps beside you, you turn to see him kneeling to pick a few wildflowers. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as he stands and presents the small bundle of white to you. Taking the bouquet, you pluck one of the flowers out and tuck it behind your ear.

“Thank you.”

He nods and continues walking, leaving you to catch up with him. 

“What was your favorite thing to study? In medical school?”

Zayne looks over his shoulder, he slows down so you can match his pace before answering.

“We learned mostly from watching and then practicing. The simpler the procedure, the better. However, I did enjoy studying more complicated procedures not commonly performed anywhere other than the battlefield.”

“Like what?”

“When I learned how many officers died during amputations, I worked to better the procedure as a whole. Make it safer for the patient and more streamline for the surgeon.”

“I heard you never lost a patient when performing an amputation. That’s rather impressive.”

“Yes… well… the patients may disagree. They’d prefer to return home with all of their limbs.”

“You gave them a second chance at life. What they chose to do with it is their decision. I find it rather impressive how you went from reading your fathers books to saving lives.”

You spot a small smile forming and grip the basket in your hands tightly. Looking away to hide your flushed cheeks, you spot the edge of the lake.

“Ah! The lake! Shall we stop here to eat?”

Zayne nods and helps you spread out the blanket. You sit and pull out the dishes, Mr Maddston has outdone himself. Two pigeon pies, stewed sweetened fruit stowed in glass bottles, pastry biscuits, one large cold plum-pudding, a few slices of bread and cheese, a tin of mixed biscuits, two cherry macarons and a large glass bottle of tea with two cups. Zayne chuckles at the feast set before him. 

“Are those…?”

“Macarons? Yes, cherry. Mr Maddston said he’s going to try baking different flavors. So, expect a new macaron with your daily tea.” 

Zayne smiles, a genuine one that lingers. Your cheeks warm as you watch him gingerly take the macaron and take a bite. His look of sheer bliss fills your heart with pride.

“Enjoying your dessert first, doctor?”

His ears turn the lightest shade of red. You pour him a cup of tea and as his fingers graze yours you hesitate. He catches the cup before you drop it and reaches out to hold your hand fully.

“Are you alright?”

You nod and try to laugh off your flustered appearance. You both fall into a comfortable silence while you eat. You occasionally stop to ask a question about his schooling or his parents. Or even to reminisce about your childhood. Once you both are sufficiently stuffed, you lie back on the blanket.

“Thank you for joining me. I know you’re a very busy man.”

“Thank you for convincing me. Or rather forcing me.”

You scoff and cover your eyes with your arm. 

“Well, I didn’t know how else to spend time with you.”

The silence serves as a brutal reminder that your direct nature is not always appreciated. You sit up and turn to Zayne. He focuses on his hands as they fold his napkin into a tiny square. 

“I apologize, I only meant… I… I’ve…”

“It’s alright. I did not realize you desired my company. I did not wish to… to…”

As you both stumble over your words, you look out to the lake. The sun shimmers across the water, a pair of swans float by and one of them flutters their wings splashing the water onto their mate. They swim around each other and nuzzle their necks together. 

“Swim with me!” 

You jump up, cutting Zayne off and extending your hand. He sighs, unsure if you’re serious. When he doesn’t take your hand, you turn on your heel and take off towards the shore. 

“Winnie!”

As Zayne gets closer, you pick up the pace. Leaping over fallen branches and ducking to avoid low hanging ones. When you finally stop near the water's edge, Zayne nearly collides into you. He breathes hard, the hair on his forehead damp with sweat. You begin to lift the skirt of your dress and feel Zayne grab your arms.

“Winnie, what are you doing?!”

You laugh breathlessly and pull away to continue removing your dress. 

“Zayne, we are married. There is nothing improper about me swimming in my chemise in front of you. However, I must ask…”

You toss your dress over a nearby log and wade into the lake, the cool water soaking the hem of your chemise, making you shiver. Looking over your shoulder, you notice Zayne’s ears are considerably more red. You turn and kick your feet to splash him. He stumbles back and you giggle as he steadies himself. Your heartbeat quickens as you watch his expression become a tad mischievous.

“Are you going to join me?” 🐝❀❄️

(If you DO NOT want to be tagged in ALL REGENCY AU fics, just leave a comment. Keep in mind, each story hints at the futures for each pair sooooo…)

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @kiude @tati-the-fangirl @mtcozylove @3fingersofscotch @stxrrielle @angelicspaceprince @hebreeee @beykyuns @sylusgirlie7 @goblynn @moonberry69 @laddelulu30 @mariojins @zhongtar @emneedshelp @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @havenhope-art @lly5duck @freddy-2002-blog

[xoladybella]

Luke and A

Let’s talk about it 🤷🏼‍♀️

Since I’ve been receiving a lot of asks that are pro Luke and A, let’s break down why we are concluding that they’re a PR relationship. Let’s start with what is it and why are they needed at times.

Per our friend Mr. Google:

(paraphrased) A PR relationship is a contractual relationship or agreement. They are often at times needed to improve public image or boost interest in the said celebrity(ties).

When we look at everything we’ve seen, there should be no question about it. We know from interviews with Nic and other casts that Luke is a kind, caring, and sensitive individual, that he’s most like his character. We’ve also seen it with our own eyes when he’s interviewed, he’s so genuine. Ask yourself, why would a guy like that act the way he does with A? Why would he not hold her tightly and look proud to beside her? He wouldn’t. You know who he does do that with though? Nicola. Take the two pictures below as an example:

I chose these because they are fair between the two. They’re both posed pictures for a professional photo. What do you see that’s different? With A, he’s serious and stiff. He has his hand in his pocket * which has a meaning of feeling uncomfortable and wanting to leave the situation/social setting. It’s written all over his face, his jaw is clenched. With Nic, he’s relaxed and inviting (his body is facing hers (his chest and torso are against her)) I mean he’s practically laying on her. His jaw is unclenched.

* I talked about body language and Luke’s use of it here:

Why would a PR relationship be necessary for him and A? I firmly believe they started out as a fling but when Luke realized he had feelings for Nic and she reciprocated, he broke it off. Now, it’s anyone’s guess as to what lead to this partnership. She’s clearly getting exposure being tied to him which could lead to future opportunities for her but the big question is, when is it set to end? My guess is sometime this year. Things are moving quickly bts as they’re filming season 4 as happily married and based on Luke’s actions at the SAGs, I don’t think this man can hold off much longer. I don’t believe in the blackmail theory. I believe that she probably asked or asked his friend Rory to ask him to help her network with his connections and in return they’ll act as a couple at public events to keep the public eye out of him and Nic’s business. This obviously isn’t working as hoped since they are like magnets to each other and can’t hide it🙂‍↕️

Don’t always believe what you see or what you hear. There has never been a confirmation from Luke that they are together. The Boss event wasn’t their hard launch. He tagged everything but her in his post (which tbf doesn’t mean a lot) BUT his actions do mean a lot and he was telling us without directly saying anything.

[t1red-twilight]

1.5 pints

summary: you get injured on a case and spencer is…worried to say the least.

warnings/content: gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, medically inaccurate (i googled stuff but idk), spencer/reader have ptsd, cannon typical injury (bullet wound),non-sexual nudity, spencer passenger princess confirmed, friends totally share a bed regularly

word count: 1.4k

masterlist s. r. masterlist

you had gotten injured after a case. it wasn’t anything serious, you had just gotten grazed by a bullet on your upper arm on your dominant side. it stung like a bitch, and bled quite a bit, but it wasn’t anything to cry over. even still, you were bandaged by paramedics before being sent on your way.

the case hadn’t been far from quantico, just a forty-five minute drive or so. spencer had silently insisted on sitting next to you in the suv. the air was awkward. not uncomfortable, per se, it was just that everyone in the car could feel that spencer was definitely upset.

once back at quantico, everyone split up to go to their homes. hotch informed everyone that you would all have the next day off. you searched through your go-bag for your car keys, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you.

spencer’s natural scent of linen and citrus would always be familiar to you. you’d recognize it anywhere. “hey spence.”

“how’d you know it was me?”

you turned around, shrugging. “lucky guess,” you smiled a lopsided smile. there was a momentary pause.

“is your arm okay?”

chuckling lightly, you shifted your weight onto one foot. “yeah, i’m alright. do you need anything?”

he was avoiding eye contact more than usual. “i think you should come over to my place tonight.”

you quirked an eyebrow. there was this unspoken arrangement the two of you had; you’d switch off spending the night at each other’s apartments. it had started when spencer began having ptsd-fueled nightmares again and you had recurring bouts of insomnia. and this consisted of sleeping in the same bed, to comfort each other.

“yeah?” there was an overwhelming feeling that he was more upset than he was leading on, and this was even more evident considering his behavior on the ride back to quantico.

“…yeah. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

you snorted. “of course you do, spencer.” he finally looked up and resumed eye contact.

“what do you mean?”

“i don’t mean anything.” you twirled your keys around your finger, chuckling lightly at the thought of spencer being caught up in what was to you, a very minuscule injury. gesturing to your car, you add on, “well, we should get going then.”

he walked around to the driver’s side of the car and motioned for your keys. spencer wasn’t very keen on driving; he much preferred his passenger princess privileges and tendencies. confusion and minor amusement flooded your features. “you want to drive?”

“uh, yeah. you shouldn’t be lifting your arm, it could tear your stitches.” the sass in his tone almost made you double take.

“hey, i think i’ll be fine, okay? you don’t have to worry about me because i got scratched.” your tone was more genuine but still held a playful element. he sighs and looks a little incredulous.

“just let me drive. please.” taken aback, you hand over the keys and walk over to the passenger side. you raise your dominant arm to open the door. spencer quickly rushes over to open the door for you. “please don’t.”

“uh, okay,” you reply in a quieter voice. as you buckle your seatbelt, spencer gets into the drivers side seat. he somehow finds a classical station on the radio (it’s not all too surprising that he probably has them memorized), and the rest of the ride goes on without a hitch or bump.

when you arrive at his apartment, spencer runs to your side of the car. he opens your door for you, and helps you out of the car. “you don’t have to baby me, spence.” he mumbles out a response. “what?” you question back.

“can you please take this seriously?” your eyes widen at his more stern timbre. a semi-sarcastic thumbs up is all you give him.

the walk up to his apartment is exceedingly more tense. you try to focus more in the scent of the old building rather than spencer’s apparent disappointment in you. the building smells like, well, old building, and the floor creaks fifteen times on the way to the elevator and to his front door.

you both cross the threshold and he sets his crossbody bag down near the entryway. you didn’t bring up your go bag, as you have plenty of things at his apartment already.

he grabs your hand and leads you to his bedroom. he proceeds to hand you some pajamas: an old mit shirt and soft shorts that you left prior. you wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. “are you going to let me change?” he looks at you exasperatedly.

“you can’t move your arm.”

“yes. i can.”

“you can, but you shouldn’t. please let me help you.” you just about roll your eyes, but you stop yourself.

“i can undress myself. i just got grazed.” you’re getting more annoyed.

“grazed? you almost fell over from the blood loss. morgan had to hold you up. the average human body has around ten pints of blood and you lost one and a half- that’s 15%. that’s not a graze-“

your eyebrows raise. he was taking this very seriously. “the bullet didn’t penetrate. i didn’t need a transfusion, and it was by no means fatal in any way.” injuries like this have occurred before on the team, and the team has recovered.

“yes, but if you lost 5% more blood, you might have lost consciousness and needed a transfusion. can you please take this seriously?”

surprisingly, you didn’t respond immediately. spencer, and everyone for that matter, had known you to be quite stubborn and not known to back down.

“you got shot. you should be taking this more seriously.”

“you could barely even consider it a shot, spencer. besides, it’s better me than anyone else.”

his eyes widen. “how can you be so reckless?” you don’t respond at all this time. you just look down at the clothes in your hands.

“please,” he quietly says your name, “you just really mean a lot to me. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

if your eyebrows weren’t high before, they sure as hell were now. “can you promise me? that you’ll take your health into consideration more? i have no clue what i’d- what the team would do without you.”

his slip-up does not go unnoticed. “okay.” you swallow your pride. “i will.”

he sighs in relief. “now please, let help you.” his eyes glance up from the floor to meet yours. you nod and he steps closer. both of your movements are awkward as he places his hands on the buttons of your shirt. he unbuttons it quite slowly, and pulls it down your arms.

he’d seen you in more compromising situations before, so this is nothing new. “put your arms out, but not up, please.” he then proceeds to put his old college alumni shirt over your arms first before pulling it over your head. “i think, you can, uh, put the shorts on yourself. just don’t lift your arms too high.”

“i won’t. i promise.” you give what you think is a convincing smile and he leaves to the bathroom.

when he returns, he is also dressed for bed. he guides you to the bathroom to brush your teeth. he babies you as much as is physically possible, but you draw the line at him brushing your teeth for you.

“dude. i’ll be careful. i’ll just use my other arm.” the task proves to be weird and uncoordinated.

you both finish brushing your teeth at about the same time. you follow him to the bedroom.

his feet pad across the carpet softly. the socks he’s wearing isn’t shocking to you at all; it’s a habit of his he’s gotten used to. he turns on his lamp on the side table, and turns out the big light.

he draws back the covers before you can, and you swing you legs onto the bed. you pull the covers up to your chin before he can tuck you in or something. one can only handle being babied for so long, after all.

he has one of those fancy dimming lamps. it casts a soft glow over the room without being too overwhelming. and because he likes it this way, so do you.

he turns onto his side and places his hands under his pillow. you begin to turn onto your side, but he stops you. “don’t put too much pressure on it.” you compromise by turning your head towards him.

his eyes are big and his lips are slightly parted. his breathing is deep and slow. you don’t know who falls asleep first, just that you both slowly inched closer so that eventually there was only about two fingers worth of space between you.

[loverangels]

coincidence?

pairings: timothee chalamet x fem!reader

request: How about timothée chalamet x fem reader who have never interacted, reader always attends events with dresses but she also likes to wear men's clothes, so at an event she decides to wear a men's suit (with certain adjustments) it ends up being the same as the one timothée brings to the eventSorry if this is written wrong, English is not my main language and I used Google Translate to write it

The red carpet was chaos, as it always was. A shimmering blur of sequins, satin, and silk gowns. The kind of event where everything—every glance, every step, every breath—felt just a little too big. You’d spent years attending these things in the safety of dresses, where elegance was your armor and the compliments were easy, if not a little predictable.

But tonight was different. Tonight, you didn’t want predictable. You wanted daring.

So, you wore a suit. Not just any suit, though—your suit. pinstriped and black, impossibly tailored, kissed with little satin details that caught the light just right. A sleek black shirt underneath, unbuttoned just enough to hint at softness, paired with sky-high heels and a swipe of red lipstick. Feminine, but sharp. Timeless, but undeniably modern. You’d spent weeks designing it, dreaming it, and now it was here. You felt like art, and when you stepped out of the car, the flashes of the cameras confirmed it.

For the first few minutes, it was a blur of movement, smiles, and flashes. The crowd buzzed, a wave of murmurs rolling from one end of the carpet to the other. At first, you didn’t think much of it. Red carpets always had a low hum of excitement, and you figured your suit was just turning heads.

But then you heard it.

"Wait—isn’t that—"

"They’re wearing—"

“Matching suits?!”

You glanced up, following the whispers like a trail of breadcrumbs, until your eyes landed on him.

Timothée Chalamet.

Standing there, a little to the side, impossibly cool and slightly tousled, wearing a suit that was… oh. Oh.

It was your suit. Well, not exactly, but close enough that the resemblance felt deliberate. The same sharp cut, the same all-black palette, the same satin accents that gleamed under the lights. It was as if the universe had quietly handed you a partner for this sartorial crime, and that partner happened to be Timothée freaking Chalamet.

Your steps faltered for half a second, but you recovered quickly. (You hoped.) He must have felt your gaze because suddenly, his head turned, and his eyes locked onto yours.

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Not because of who he was (okay, maybe a little because of who he was), but because of the way his face shifted. First, confusion, soft and curious, followed by realization—a spark in his eyes that spread into a slow, crooked smile. The kind of smile that made you feel like you’d just walked into the punchline of a joke you didn’t know you were telling.

You didn’t have time to overthink it. You kept walking, each step measured, heels clicking against the polished floor. As you passed him, you tilted your head ever so slightly and said, “Guess one of us is going to have to change.”

His laugh was warm and light, like it was meant just for you. “Great minds think alike?”

“Or someone’s been sneaking peeks at my sketches,” you replied, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.

And then came the laugh. That laugh. The one that lit up his entire face and made the world around you feel just a little softer, like maybe this wasn’t the chaos you thought it was.

“If I’d seen this coming,” he said, his voice dipping low with a teasing lilt, “I would’ve brought a backup. But I have to say, you’re pulling it off better than I am.”

Heat crept up your neck, a traitorous blush, but you smirked through it. “Well, at least it’s not a gown. That would’ve been embarrassing for you.”

His grin widened, bright and effortless. “Touché.”

It should have ended there, but of course it didn’t. The photographers loved the two of you together, your matching suits now the centerpiece of the night’s chaos. And Timothée? He leaned in, voice low enough that only you could hear, and whispered little jokes between camera flashes.

“So, should we start planning our next matching outfit now, or play it by ear?”

“You know, people are going to start shipping us, right?”

“Do you think we’ll get a discount if we order matching suits in bulk?”

You bit back a laugh, trying to maintain your composure, but he made it nearly impossible. By the time you reached the end of the carpet, your cheeks ached from smiling, and you’d almost forgotten the cameras were even there.

Inside, the event blurred into the background—drinks, chatter, speeches. But somehow, you kept crossing paths with him. Once at the bar, then at the dessert table, and finally, during a quiet moment when your tables were coincidentally (or not so coincidentally) near each other.

“Okay,” he said, leaning over with that same mischievous smile, “but really. Did you steal my look, or did I steal yours?”

You sipped your drink, playing it cool. “I think the universe is playing a prank on us.”

“Well, the universe has good taste,” he said, his tone teasing but warm. “So, are you going to start wearing suits to every event now? Because I might need to step up my game.”

“Only if you promise to wear a gown next time,” you shot back, arching a brow.

His laugh -soft, full of something you couldn’t quite place- made you smile despite yourself. “Deal,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You didn’t expect to see him again, but just as you were about to leave, he appeared, almost like he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now, less playful but just as warm. “Tonight was fun. Unexpected, but fun.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, smiling softly. “Thanks for not making it weird.”

His lips quirked into another smile. “Anytime. But next time, let’s coordinate on purpose. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes but laughed anyway. “Deal.”

As you stepped outside, your phone buzzed with notifications. Somewhere online, a picture of the two of you in your matching suits had already gone viral. Captions like “Fashion soulmates?” and “Power couple energy!” flooded your feed. You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips.

The universe, it seemed, wasn’t quite done with you yet.

[kamiana-ruzha]

so, because of what is happening on twitter with opbee currently, i think some things need to be said.

for context: there's a trend "we listen we don't judge" going around social media, which, well, most of the time you're not listened and judged and roasted instead. so someone posted an 'opbee edition', asking of people's opinions on the pairing. at first it's been...more or less okay. but i won't be wrong if i say shit hit the fan rather quickly.

there were words about how disgusting the ship is. how disgusting are the shippers. there were words that the shippers must be investigated. there was a death wish and i think kai agreed with it?

why there was so much hate?

because people see them as father and son. because Bumblebee is infantilised by the fandom. and that is the problem. not the shipping or shippers.

so... let's go over all the facts, okay? calmly. read all of this post please.

1) Father and son

the biggest argument why this is a 'trash ship' is because people *see* them as father and son. yes. *see them*. they're not father and son. there's no canon confirmation of Prime ever adopting Bumblebee, or Bee being blood-related to him. if you google it -- you'll get a wattpad AU! fanfic. they're not canonically related in any way.

why do people see them like that?

as far as i'm aware, it started in g1 and some tfone voice actors said that they see them like that too, but a) i don't have the interview, b) it all grew out of a meme.

and that argument crumbles after a couple questions. what a father would Prime be for sending his alleged son to war? even after his arch nemesis literally yanked his alleged son's throat out, taking his voice away (tfp)? yeah, that's a great father an son relationship, don't you think?

a less... scientific or journalistic or rational, call it what you want, answer, is...daddy issues.

people just see Prime as a father figure and because Bumblebee is infantilised he's seen as his child.

i have daddy issues too, i don't deny it. my father was emotionally unavailable until recently. but to people who say only fatherless ship opbee -- look into your own traumas. please. talk to a therapist and then think twice about telling others something like that.

2) Bumblebee is a child

no he is not. there's no canon info about how old he is. from what I was able to find - he's six millions old. SIX MILLIONS. Optimus is nine millions, and that COMBINING his existence as Orion Pax (4-4,5 mil) and as Optimus (the rest). so, do the math. Bumblebee might be just a little older than him, older than PRIME, but a bit younger than PAX.

the infantilisation of Bumblebee is a huge problem for transformers fandom and the canon itself. no-one takes him seriously. and yes, i agree, he might be in his very late teens or a young adult, but he's not a child, not a toddler, not a middleschooler, not a minor. look at Bayverse Bumblebee. look at War for Cybertron (especially Netflix) Bumblebee. look at Earthspark Bumblebee. even G1 is *not* a child.

think about it. would a child be able to kill Skyquake or any other Decepticon (tfp)? would a child be a mercenary, that avoided war up until it killed cybertron (netflix wfc)? wouldn't a child hesitate when sent through the city that is currently being destroyed and heavily bombarded to tell some guy named 'Optimus' that Zeta Prime is dead (wfc game)?

think about it twice. rewatch anything but animated while watching for "signs of adult personality".

think thrice before saying Bee is a child or child-coded. at most, he's neurodivergent-coded, or just someone who's not really in touch with his emotions (think the rage moments)

3) age gap

there's none. i said about it slightly higher. at most their age gap is three millions old. that is insignificant for beings that are essentially immortal, unless they get sick or killed.

now think of all the mech+human pairings. how come that kind of age gap is normalised?

i'm not saying that to shame the fans of Charlie/Bee or Mirage/Noah or Optimus/Michaela or any other, no. i like those ships. every ship is relevant.

the double standard and hypocrisy is not. it's not okay.

4) all, or anything of listed above makes people uncomfortable

it's okay. your feelings are relevant.

and i, a shoker, don't like opmeg too much. i didn't like that my whole twitter was only them after tfone. you know what i did? i added 'opmeg' and 'megop' into ignored words. and that's all. my soul is at peace.

is it so hard to do the same? let the shippers be. are they hurting you? no. are they hurting anyone else? no. so just use the feature twitter and tumblr have had for a long while and bluesky has too. use it. and ignore the ship if it makes your eyes hurt. spare yourself and spare the people that like the ship.

5) there's no dynamics

no there is. watch fall of cybertron trailer. rethink all "Optimus I'd die for you" and actual deaths.

6) the shippers are sick and other words people say

you know what i read? i read that someone thinks that blocking shippers isn't enough, they want them, they want me dead for shipping and creating content. that i'm weird for shipping opbee. that i'm sick. that i, and others, need to be investigated.

no, no we are not weird. i don't know about everyone, i only know about myself. i have issues. i have trauma, hell, who doesn't? i know it could have been worse, for example, if i stayed in Kyiv after the war began. opbee helps me cope. and it helps not only me.

have you.. actually mindfully, objectively read what is posted under opbee tag? yes there's a lot of valveplug, but have you seen the size difference? the kink is tickled.

but the content shippers make is wholesome, cute and comforting. hell, opbee helped me get over my self halm issues, slightly helped with my anger issues, that's what my first fics of them are about.

any ship might be someone's way to cope. respect it. respect people's feelings. it saddens me that empathy doesn't exist anymore. think what impact your words may have on someone before writing those words. think for a moment more. and think again, would it be worthy? would saying that someone's favourite ship is shit and they're sick for loving it be worthy of someone killing themselves? and i'm not exaggerating -- that happened many times.

if you think it's worth it...just block me, okay? like i blocked many people who asked to block them if you ship opbee.

respect other people. respect their feelings, their ships, their requests.

and don't be a dick.

[macybeckham7]

’we listen and don’t judge’ trend with Jude

‘We listen and don’t judge’ you both say in unison as you sit side by side. You managed to talk Jude into the video, you had showed him a few and he was instantly into it. ‘I sometimes don’t watch your games, I just quickly google how the game went’ you say as Jude looks at you in shock. ‘Wow, started off strong’ he jokes. ‘We listen and don’t judge’ you say again. You bite the inside of your mouth as you wait to hear what he was going to say. ‘I sometimes pretend to miss your call when you ring me early in the morning when I am away’ he confirms. ‘You tell me to ring you then!’ you say in shock which makes him nod and then tells you to not judge him. ‘We listen and don’t judge’ you say again but it was obvious that you were now judging him. Some of the fan favourites were him admitting he ‘hides your glasses when you annoy him’ and ‘I pretend that your baking is nice and then throws them in the neighbours bin so you think I have ate them and loved them’ and ‘I pretend to be asleep on the sofa so you can carry me to bed because I don’t want to get up’ and ‘I have been apart of the family group chat with the Bellingham’s for two years now, where we just talk about how annoying you are’.

[ihaznoclue]

Fear Of Losing You

Pairings -> Bayverse TMNT x Reader

Warnings -> Injuries, passing out, other angsty stuff

Note -> After the Shredder fight and defeating him, everyone is pretty injured but you were the worst of all of them as you were used a bait after distracting shredder while Donnie defused the machine. All they need to do now is make sure you stay awake and take you back home to heal you.

Genre -> Angst to Fluff?

A/N - I got inspired by this comic dub that I found on YouTube but I can't remember what it's called, also I hope you guys will enjoy this!

This is one of the worst things that has happened to you, you never thought it was going to be this way. 

After the big fight with shredder, you all got pretty injured as you defeated him. Raph’s shell was slightly cracked from earlier in the snow as he went to get his brothers from Sacks as well some injuries on his arm and shoulder. Leo was hurt on his left arm and right leg, Donnie was slightly bruised and had a big cut on his right arm and Mikey was well Mikey even though he was also hurt on his face as well as his arms. 

But you were the worst, cuts and bruises everywhere as well, maybe a few broken bones here and there as well as a blood trail coming from your forehead from shredder slashers and that shredder used you as bait because you decided to distract him which was a bad idea.

Now you guys finally defeated him, well because of Donnie of course. Defusing the machine and saving the world, but all of their priority was to help you and to heal you. 

“Guys, M’fine..” You are not technically fine as you hunched back in front of Rapheal who has been holding you up, making sure you weren’t gonna fall. You were trying so hard not to fall asleep, Raph’s warmth comforted you as your eyes felt heavy.

“Mikey, call April or Vern to get there van here, we need their van to get back home so Donnie can look at them” Raph suggested

“Already on it!” Mikey confirms while his T-Phone that was made from donnie starts to ring

“Donnie, can you check on them?” Leo requests as Donnie crouches as he puts his goggles on to check your injuries, “Guys really I’m.. fine” Breathing was so difficult right now but you needed to stay strong for them

“Sure, even though I don’t really heal people which is sort of Name’s thing but let me check real quick though” Donnie said as he scanned you, making you squint your eyes a bit at the light

Donnie then lifted his google up as he had a very worried look on his face, making Raph and Leo start to worry as well

“Hey guys, I got April, she’s coming” Mikey’s voice called out, making Leo pat him on his shell “good Job Mikey, she’ll know what to do mostly” Leo spoke. Meanwhile Raph and donnie having a conversation “We’ll have to keep them until April gets here, We also need to stop them bleeding too much or else..” Donnie states

You were trying so hard not to fall asleep right now, Donnie and Raph’s voice became muffled as your eyes started to drop causing ruckus, hearing Leo’s and Mikey’s voice as well. Then you fully fell asleep, but you were able to hear their voice still which was a good sign at least

“Name?!”

“Name you better wake up” 

“Name-!”

“Hang on just a little bit longer” 

“Wake up!” 

“Please wake up” 

“Donnie, My head’s kind of fuzzy” 

“Oh god that's not good, you might have some concussion” 

“April! Anglecakes, you’re finally here!” 

“Where are they?” 

“Right here”

“Shit, Someone has to lift them in order to get them to the van quickly”

“I’ll lift them” 

Then that caused you to wake up, a stinging pain in your body started to spread all over you, you body was more delicate and fragile as the turtles

“ARRGH-- OW!” You yelled out as you hand instantly grabbing onto the person who was carrying you which was Leo

“Careful!” 

“It hurts..” You muttered as tears started to form in your eyes, “I know it does but we are gonna get you back and patch you up” Leo reassured you 

“Casey! Open the door!” April’s voice yelled out, then hearing a door slide open

“Oh dang, Here put them on the backseat” Casey said as he went to the front, making sure everyone was now in the van

Hearing the door slide close, you were place down slowly and carefully by Leo, then he crouched down in a sitting position in front of you as he was there to keep you awake

“They need to stay awake, They are in a lot of pain but they need to wait until we get home” Donnie told Leo who nodded, “Casey, get us home” Donnie huffed as he sat down too

Then you felt it, the van started to move. Feeling a sense of comfort as Leo kept you awake, moving some hair away from your face as his finger wiped some blood off your face that was from shredders slashers

Meanwhile, Donnie was checking on his brothers making sure they were fine even though he was hurt as well

Snapping Raph out of his trance as he reasked “You said your head is fuzzy?” Donnie asked, “Mhm..” 

“It might…. be a concussion, but start with his other wounds..” You muttered out “Name you shouldn't be talk-” Leo spoke up “No.. no, that’s good. What do I need to do” Donnie interrupts 

“Clean his wound first… if it’s still bleeding… apply pressure..but not to much” You huffed out, Donnie followed your instructions as Raph grunted in response while Donnie looks at his injuries as he did the same with Leo 

“Done! Mikey come here so I can check you” Donnie called out as Mikey came from the front of the van to the back 

There was a slight cut over his eye, bleed spilling down slowly as Donnie cleaned it, then he started to check his arms

“Geez Mikey, what did you do? They look pretty bad..” You admits when you spotted his arms, “Well He tried to distract Shredder but got attacked” Donnie notes as you nodded 

“You did a good job mikey” Leo commented 

“We are here! Donnie, can you open the garage for us?” April asked as Donnie was already on it as he pressed a button on his wrist and the garage finally opened as April drove inside, making the garage close behind

“Alright we need to get them inside, Leo grab the first aid kit quickly” April yells out as Leo open the van door as he quickly went to go get the first aid kit, “Mikey I’ll take care of you, Casey go get Splinter, he’ll take care of Raph and Leo while Donnie takes care of Name” 

“Okay, I’m gonna lift you up and then carry you on the bed” Donnie reassured as you got ready to get picked up, knowing it was going to hurt

Donnie carefully placed his arms under you and he picked you up causing your ears to ring, hissing as you grabbed onto Donnie as hurried over to the bed

“Stay awake Dove, Keep your eyes open we are nearly--” 

You passed out again, causing Donnie to panic, rushing over to the bed. He quickly got everything ready as he put an IV fluid on your arm from your blood loss. He was hoping you were going to wake up soon, Casey helping in the process 

But he needed to scan you for any other injuries he might not know off, while donnie does that master splinter was taking care of Raph as he already bandaged Leo first, “I am almost done then you two can go see Name” 

“Hai Sensei” Leo bowed as he honoured his dad for patching him and his brother up, hoping MIkey and you were alright

While with April and Mikey, April was running the sink as she soaked a towel “Alright you’re almost done, I just to patch you up and then you’ll be off to see if Name is alright” 

“Thanks dudette” 

Then started to wrap the bandages around his arms, Mikey looked miserable, he didn’t like how hurt his brothers and you were. 

“Hey April, can I ask something?” Mikey mumbles as he looks down, April tilted her head as she hummed, still concentrating on his arms “What’s up big guy?”

“Do you think they are going to be alright?” 

“Oh Mikey, they are going to be alright, You’re brothers are tough” 

“What about Name, they are more worse than all of us” 

“Let me tell you one thing, Name isn’t going to give up. I’ve known them since I was a little kid, I know they are going to be alright, just have some faith in them and they’ll be okay”

Meanwhile with Donnie, he was looking at your scan, the screen showed an x-ray of you and you’re amount of injuries you have gathered from Shredder

Donnie was in disbelief, but now you were waking up as you turned to spot Casey sitting in the corner waiting to help Donnie with something, Then you spotted Donnie staring, looking like he zoned out

“Are you going to let.. Me see Don?” You spoke out, no response “Donnie?” 

“Oh good you’re awake, Casey come over here to help me” Donnie said as Casey stood up walking over, You and Casey high-fived each other as he was relieved you were awake now

Donnie then moved his screen to show Casey, “Alright, Casey going to need your help here, we have a lot of stuff to do, I don’t think Name will be in the right condition to help us” 

“I’m right here.. You know” 

“Alright, we are dealing with some broken bones, some internal bleeding but I already got that out of the way, we also need to deal with their cuts and their bruises” 

“I’ll stitch their deep cuts” Casey volunteered as Donnie went to check up on his brothers

“You need to hold still or else it’s going to make it worse if you keep moving” 

“I’m trying, it just hurts” You started to tear up as you held your breath wanting Donnie to come back

“Where’s don?” You asked as Casey finished up which caused you to hiss a little form the pain that stung your arm

“I’m right here” Donnie’s voice called out, turning your head to see Leo following behind him to help heal you up

“Alright, I finished with the stitching” Casey informs 

“Good, now we need to deal with their broken bones, we need to put their leg and arm in a cast, Leo I need you to help, they need to stay still for this” 

“On it” Leo said as he grabbed you but not too tightly in case he hurts you, While Donnie was now going to apply the plaster then put on the cast for your leg

You were getting ready for the pain to come, as soon it touches your leg pain stung your body as you yelled out, leaned onto Leo as you grabbed him 

“Alright, I’m nearly done. Don’t move your leg too much Name” 

“It hurts.. It hurtsss..” You repeatedly muttered as you were still grabbing onto Leo’s shoulder to stable you

His arm was wrapped around you protectively as he hushed you “You’re nearly done” 

“Okay I’m done, Make sure Name stays awake Leo” Donnie pointed out as your eyes got tired, until the doors swung open revealing Mikey “What happened!?” He screamed out until Raph popped out his head inside the room

“Oh Mikey, Raph good you guys are patched up” Donnie sighed 

MIkey and Raph spotted you shaking in Leo’s arms as they felt troubled by your expression, they knew you weren’t feeling the greatest but at least Donnie was there to help

“Donnie.. You need someone to bandage your arm..” You mumbled out causing Donnie to look at his arm totally forgetting his arm was cut open a bit

“Leo go help Donnie..” You said as Leo looked down at you “You sure?” You nodded “Mikey and Raph will look after me..I’ll be fine..” 

“Alright donnie Let’s get you patched up..” 

You sighed as you saw Mikey coming over with a sad face, crouching down near the bed, you gave out a small smile towards him saying that you were fine, then spotted Raph standing awkwardly 

“Raph.. come over here” The words that came out of your mouth made Raph focus on you as he huffed, walking over to you 

“Geez Angel.. How are you feeling?” Mikey asked, “Feeling a little bit better just hurts everywhere..” 

“I wanna sleep.. But I want to wait for leo.. And donnie” 

“Sleep, we’ll make sure they are fine.. You look exhausted” Raph suggested as MIkey nodded in agreement as he played with your hair which soothed you a bit

You whined as your eyes felt heavy as they fluttered closed, they were relieved that you finally got some sleep

A couple of minutes after Donnie and Leo came back to noticed that you were asleep while mikey and Raph were sitting near the bed as they fell asleep themselves 

Looks like they were tired too, maybe they should have a little nap as well from the chaos that has happened today..

-A<3

[nightunite]

In your baron konig au, do you ever see reader noticing his language insecurity and trying to learn his native tongue from his other workers?

Thank you so much for this ask, it gives me a chance to write fluff! It's definitely one of the ways I see them getting closer, because it shows her not just wanting to understand him, but those around her. Most of Konig's staff are from home, either coming over originally with him or when he makes one of his few trips back home.

Fair warning, this is going to contain some Google translate as well as future pieces most likely, native speakers please correct me on what I get wrong!

“Oh, good morning, my lord!” She bends slightly at the waist, a light bow to Konig as she met him where the staircase joined to the upper left wing of the barony. Standing upright at his nod of acknowledgement, her head turns as he swiftly strode down the hall and took in his frazzled state. In one arm he clasped several stacks of documents to his chest, paper developing light creases where his large fingers exerted too much pressure even through the thick paper. In the other he awkwardly gripped some quills, an inkpot, and the stamp bearing his familial crest. Having to go in the same direction, she saw as he almost dropped a quill then bent it with the force of him stopping it falling to the ground. It beat the alternative of him having to stoop all the way to the ground to recover it, she supposes. “Um, my lord?” She calls to him. His feet came to a stop, head turning slightly, eyes as cool as the outside air locking on her, a faint blue like ice water making her breath hitch at how it locks onto her. “May I be of assistance in carrying something for you?” After a few moments of silent staring she almost took back the suggestion out of embarrassment, a massive man of his stature surely does not need help from a maid- “Federn.” She blinks, unsure if she heard correctly. He clears his throat before repeating himself. “Carry quills. And ink.” He held out his hand and she quickly makes up the distance between them (curse his long strides), taking the objects in her hands, fighting the urge to shiver when their fingers brush. Just like the previous times, his hands were so warm and firm.

They walk in silence down the halls, stopping at the front of the library, intricately carved oak doors barring entry. As he turns the handle she swallows, mind flashing back for a moment to her last time in the library in the duchy. With any luck, the memory would continue to fade the longer she worked here, each time she cleaned the room wiping away the bitterness with the dust and incense ash. Though, she thinks, I can’t forget everything that occurred in that place. Just a fortnight prior it had been confirmed that yes, she was indeed carrying a Duke’s child, not that he would ever know. Her saving grace had been that she was not yet showing, the reduction of stress and ability to hold down food courtesy of Annika helping her regain some of the lost weight, no longer wan and sunken inwards. She hadn’t anticipated telling the head maid of her condition, at least not yet, but she hadn’t a choice when she was caught leaning against a wall fighting off a dizzy spell at the end of the day. Good fortune then that much like her employer, her superior was of a better cut, keeping the news tucked to her chest with little more than a chastisement of letting her know of any changes to her condition and an order to have a quick, light meal of gently seasoned soup from the cooks before heading to bed.

She places the writing set down on the table he had chosen to work at before commencing her own tasks of dusting the books and wiping down the wooden furniture, eyes briefly glancing at the papers as he set about placing the stacks in some order that made sense to him. They were written in that foreign language she saw scrawled across the spines of the novels, most of the letters making sense to her but combined in a way that was confusing, lengthy words packed with consonants and vowels, dots pocked sparingly in some places. She wishes she could read them, understand the different stories that came with the Baron from his homeland.

As she works her way along the shelves, she can’t help but take a few peeks at him, immersed in his tasks while hunched over his work in a way that makes her back ache. The air is mostly silent apart from the scratch of a quill and the gentle squeaking of a damp cloth. Shortly after though, a faint humming permeates the study, a tune she had grown familiar with in the month since her arrival. Konig was fond of this tune, singing the melody like he had no clue he was doing it, part of his routine when tackling paperwork. He had told her the name of the tune, accent making quick work of it, though she struggled to repeat it to herself.

Eye Popeeyah, she vaguely recalled, certain it was something like that. Gently wetting a spot on a plush chair, she waits for the tea stain to lift herself as she chances another look at the baron. He never notices when her eyes stray from the upholstery and she wonders if he even feels her eyes on him. He’s a shy man, she’s come to learn, content to keep himself tucked away from others. Perhaps he feels people’s gaze on him even when there is no one to stare, and so he doesn’t register her. Perhaps she is so beneath him that he doesn’t register her presence at all. Certainly not in the same manner as Duke MacTavish, she chews the inside of her cheek as she wrings out the washcloth and wipes the stain away, hands working at the spot even when gone as she unknowingly rests her eyes on him.

No, the Baron is not that kind of man. “Hirsch?” She jumps, jolted from her thoughts, Konig staring seemingly down to the core of her. Her blood pools in her cheeks and she feels her face become hot. She could die of embarrassment at being caught staring, much less at her employer! She can’t even tell what his expression is with his shroud in place, leaving her further off-kilter. “Apologies, my lord! My thoughts ran from me, I’ll get back to work now.” With a ducked head she averts her eyes from both Konig and the large damp patch her mindless scrubbing caused the poor chair. Unfortunately, the next shelf to clean is the one directly behind him, so she grabs her duster and rags and makes her way over. He hunches in further, trying to scoot in to give her room but ultimately there is nowhere for him to go, shoulders pulled up to his ears to make himself smaller. His grip on his quill is tight, and the papers crinkle under his free hand as he writes, more akin to forcing the ink in than letting the quill do the work, and the humming has stopped, replaced with heavy silence only interspersed with more scratching and the occasional grumble. She feels guilt over it, how her presence in his home forces him into these uncomfortable positions. It’s doubtful he wore the hood even at home before she came, and now here he is forced to curl up to avoid them touching.

 Even still, as she makes her way along the shelves, the heat radiating off him permeates her dress, a welcome sensation compared to the bitter winter outside, the frost outside sharp enough to stop the maids from cleaning the windows lest the water freeze on the panes. Not that he or Annika would let any of them go cold, providing them extra bedding and thicker clothes as the cold crept along the floorboards. The rumors from other maids had been correct, that while the Baron might come across as strange and off-putting to some, he took good care of those who worked for him. It makes the guilt inside her grow.

This man has been so kind to her already, and here she is making him feel like an outsider. Forcing him to repeat himself in stilted English for her sake because it’s the only language she knows. He has always held himself in a stern and awkward manner whenever they cross paths, but she sees his discomfort grow when trying to string together conversation with the few visitors to the barony. She wishes she could speak freely with him and ease that stress a little, make him and the other maids not view her as something to be wary of. Just the other day she had come across two of the maids giggling and speaking in hushed whispers, the conversation so quick she couldn’t make out much more than the occasional exclamations and snickers. Once they realized she was there though, they had startled in much the same way as the baron did, standing stiff with wide eyes before carrying on with their tasks. She tried to reassure herself they hadn’t been gossiping about her, there was always a rumor of some drama occurring in town, but it was hard. It reminded her that she had no one she was close to here, no one to confide in about anything she saw that would set tongues wagging and eyes gawking. “What language is this?” She was behind him again, this time gently removing the dust from the tops of the books that hadn’t seen much attention. Konig jumps, spooked by the sudden voice behind him, chair making a sound of protest as his upper back gently bumps into hers. Taking a moment to calm himself, he sets aside the letter with a harsh line of ink over the surface and frowns down at how it continued onto the table. “Was?” He asks, turning to look over his shoulder. She keeps her face turned to the bookshelf, hands fiddling with her rag once more. “The language you all speak. It’s the one from your homeland, yes?” An answering grunt is all she receives. “I wanted to know which one it was. There are so many books here in the library not in English, and I would like to read them once my work is finished. And-and I would like to be able to speak with the other maids, to greet them as they greet one another, or not require you to have to repeat yourself when giving instruction. I don’t want to impose on them or on you, I’ve seen the frustration with having to translate conversations when out in town.” She can’t help herself, having turned around and now locked in a staring match with him, feeling like a mouse surveilled by a wolf, the words tumbling free of her mouth. Her ears feel like they’re burning, hands, twisting the rag around her fingers. “I would ask Felix or Annika, but they’ve so many responsibilities and I would hate to take up their free time. I would use the novels themselves, but I don’t know all of the letters, they look similar but then there are these dots-“ “Umlaut.” He cuts her off, eyes giving a slow blink. “What is it?” “The dots. They are called umlaut.” He explains. “Umlaut.” She tries testing the word in her mouth. When he nods, she can’t help her smile, pleased at getting it right. “Off days?” He asks in his typical manner, and she works to figure out what he’s asking. “Annika has me scheduled off on Wednesdays and Thursdays, my lord.” He nods again, mulling something over. “Come to my office then. I will teach you.” She hears the drag on the “You’re so busy though my lord, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work-“ A gloved hand gently reaches up, thumb and middle finger pressing lightly on her cheeks to stop her from rambling a second time. “Wednesday and Thursday” He repeats, accent showing on the 'and',  “and the days you clean the office.”

He releases her when she nods, finishing his final document and reorganizing them while she blinks. She would take great care to follow his lessons, she just hopes he will be patient with her. As she prepares to start on the final task of restocking the fireplace and taking cups to the kitchen, she pauses. “My lord?” He stops stacking papers, watching her from the side. “Thank you for this. If I may though, could you teach me one phrase before you go?” She fights the urge to beam when he taps the seat in front of him. (The next morning, she gives in to the urge when she greets the other early morning maids at breakfast with a nervous and stilted “Guten Morgen, wie geht’s?” and is met with excitement and smiles.) Translations: Federn - Quill Hirscht - Deer Guten Morgen, wie geht's - good morning, how are you

[amymbona]

IRRESPONSIBLE

TW: young adult pregnancy and parenthood

2006, the year of Play station 3, Hannah Montana, Britney Spears filling the clubs and your unexpected pregnancy with Patrick Zweig. It happens so quickly, you barely remember any of it; one moment you're tagging along your best friend at the US Open, the next one, you're hidden in a random bathroom and clutching onto the tennis boy's blue polo. Few weeks later, you're prying his number from Tashi's phone and sending him a blurry picture of your positive pregnancy test.

Patrick ignores you for two long weeks, not texting you back even after the twenty six calls you leave in desperation. When he finally answers, he denies any connection to the image and proceeds to call you a slut before hanging up, so you're left to try and reach out for another three weeks. When you finally break the news to your parents and book a doctor's appointment, where the suspicion unfortunately gets confirmed, you snap Patrick a picture of the black and white ultrasound photo you were given. He's at your door the next morning.

Things get set in motion and the two move into a flat in the city, one that is close enough so your parents are available if you ever need them. But Patrick, being too afraid of your father, assures them he's gonna give you the same treatment a princess deserves. Being the rich kid, the rising tennis star, he fills your new home with everything times two, as if that could substitute the lack of experience the two of you have, as you're both mentally still children.

He's there for your next appointment, palms sweating when he gets a peek at the little bean that slowly grows in your stomach. Is it already that big? Wait, is it a girl or a boy? That's when it hits you both that there is a whole new human growing inside of you, someone so vulnerable who will be absolutely dependent on you. Someone, who the two of you will have to give hundred and twenty percent of your time, care and attention to. There's no way the two of you will be able to do that, at this age.

When the day finally comes, both of you are a goddamn mess. You're sobbing, holding onto Patrick and unable to bear all the ache that your body absolutely wasn't prepared for, and Patrick is panicking, refusing to let you out of sight even though he shouldn't even care for you that much. The two of you are not even dating. He should only care for the child, not you. Then why is his heart breaking every time he hears you cry?

He swears you have never looked more beautiful before than right now, with your cheeks read and hair tossed into a messy ponytail, completely out of breath and clutching your new born babygirl to your naked chest. He almost faints right here and there, unable to accept the truth.

The first few weeks at home are a walk through hell, filled with constant high pitched cries, sweat and tears of your own. The two of you barely get any sleep and your whole body hurts, there's no time to be dedicated to getting to know the father of your baby better that you could actually consider building a relationship with him. You both sleep in separate beds in separate rooms, each one of you trying to get as much comfort as possible when the little one's asleep.

If it's not the baby crying, Patrick is awoken by your sobs, as you deem the night time the only possible opportunity to let your feelings flow freely. You're in pain, you're tired, you're fucking miserable. And you can't help yourself but hate the little human who has changed your life forever. And for worse.

Your depressed state is what finally gets Patrick to be responsible, to push through everything that was holding him back and google how the fuck to take care of an actual baby. He manages to clean the place somehow, at least partially, and make it look a bit predentable (not that there is anyone visiting the two of you, besides your parents once or twice a week) and makes it his task to wash the baby and change her diapers. Now he just has to squeeze you in between all his responsibilities. He should be taking care of you as well.

Patrick finds it funny when you get all bashful while breastfeeding the baby, trying to cover yourself from his sight, as if he hasn't literally seen you give birth. If only you knew how beautiful Patrick finds you, how he has to hold back from reaching out and caressing any part of your body that is still so filled and plump. He never brings the fact that he has heard you cry so often, fearing that it would send you back into something deeper. He knows how you (don't) handle embarrassment.

It's rare for you to get out of bed for anything other that the basic hygiene and breastfeeding, but after almost two months, you finally manage to contribute to the living arrangement. Even though you barely speak - to both Patrick and the baby - you're working, and that's good. Partially. The more time passes, the harder it hits you that this really is forever, that this little human with light freckles on her chubby cheeks will be dependent on you for the rest of her and your lives, and there is no way this cycle could ever be broken.

You do break down in Patrick's arms once, after a particularly tough day when the little one couldn't stop crying and your head felt like a hot air balloon that might explode. Everything just crumbles down and instead of yelling at you, instead of pushing you away and telling you to suck it up, Patrick just holds you like you're the most precious thing in this world - like you're his girls - and tells you that everything will be okay. He spends fourty fucking minutes repeating the same phrase; you'll be okay, you'll be okay, you'll be okay. You have to be okay.

The two of you don't speak about that encounter, especially after you wake up in Patrick's room, in Patrick's bed, in Patrick's arms. And you're back to being silent. Somehow, things seem to have improved, at least partially. You have split the work in half; Patrick changes the diapers and baths the little one while you cook and breastfeed. Play time includes the two of you sitting in a carpet in the living room, offering your baby any of the toys you've both and making stupid sounds to entertain her.

Somehow, Patrick slowly transforms into a gentleman - if he could be called one, for not even a twenty year old - and really does his best to overcome whatever barriers are there between the two of you. He does not only attend to the baby but to you as well, offering to wash your hair or massage your back. The first time he touches you - the actual very first time his hands are properly on your body since the night you magically conceived - everything feels so different. Patrick is suddenly gentle, tenderly sliding his palms over your bare back and digging his thumbs into the dimples above the waistband of your sweatpants. Each grunt that leaves your lips goes straight to his core, filling him with something warm and unknown.

Almost automatically, you begin sleeping in Patrick's bed (argumenting that it's comfier than your own) and it's clear that the effect it has on you has been more than needed. When you find yourself surrounded by muscular arms every morning, it messes with your brain in a way that's difficult to describe. Usually, it's a mix of appreciation for being cared for so tenderly and fear that all of it was just a dream.

One day, it couldn't be past four in the morning, the two of you are awoken by the little one's cries, Patrick tells you to sleep, baby, I'll handle it and presses a kiss to your cheek before slipping out of the bed to tend to the baby's needs. It's safe to say you have trouble falling asleep after that.

These displays of affection turn into something automatic, much to your surprise. Never ever would you expect Patrick to act like a pretty decent father and an attentive romantic partner (not that you're in that kind of relationship at the moment), but slowly but surely, this whole thing is turning into something which could resemble a family. You're still a bit reserved though, at least compared to Patrick who's aware that his daughter need a functional family and is slowly falling in love with you.

Finally, he is able to muster enough courage and ask you out on a date. A proper fucking one. At first, he's tempted to hide it behind the two of you just need to get a breath of fresh air when your parents offer to babysit, but he's unable to hide his intention. He really fucking wants you. So the two of you go for some fancy dinner, then a walk through the local park where Patrick really wants to kiss you, but he doesn't dare to. When you come home, with your baby fast asleep in her small room, it's hard to resist each other and you end up naked in your shared bed.

Post sex clarity hits you the following morning and things go back to awkward, bouncing between wholesome moments of the two of you getting somewhat physical and then both of you ignoring each other for unusually long periods of time. It seems that both of you are equally as afraid to move it to another level. But Patrick can't stop wanting you.

Unfortunately, tennis enters the equation and begins wanting Patrick before you could, as the season is approaching once again. In the words of his agent, Patrick still has the potential to be one of the most seen faces despite spending the last half a year not playing the sport at all. He is torn between pursuing his career, something he's been working to master ever since he was able to walk and hold a racket, and possibly throwing it all away for the two people that entered his life so suddenly. And since it is Patrick Zweig we're talking about, he chooses the first option.

It doesn't take a single week that he gets back into the routine for the whole household to collapse completely. Coming back late in the evenings, he's a witness to your broken self, messy place and his crying baby daughter. There's no way this could possibly go on without you turning crazy in a few weeks, so Patrick decides to abruptly change his decision. He's sitting this season out, even if it means he has to quiz tennis. He couldn't bear watching the mother of his child turn into a lifeless ghost and become unable to take care of their baby.

So from now on, it's not Patrick Zweig, a professional tennis player, has transformed into Patrick Zweig, a full time dad. Stay at home dad, shopping for groceries dad, bathe his babygirl dad, care for the mother of his child dad. This is what Patrick is, this is what his life has been upgraded to and, honestly, he wouldn't have it any other way.

[galedekarios]

plagiarism in the bg3 fandom

disclaimer: this post should not be taken as a springboard to harrass anyone involved.

-

as i've stated previously, i didn't want to make this post because i have a lot going on in real life, but i have been watching this being done to others and myself for months now and i can't not speak about my experience anymore.

laiostoudenn (prev urls: lathanderr/spellbooking/wizardblood on tumblr / circleofspores on bsky) is a plagiarist and he has a history of stealing from other creators like @minthara, @mercymaker, @onewingedangels and others.

in this post, i, finally and after much and long deliberation, want to add my voice to theirs.

i'll try to give a chronological overview of what happened as i have come to experience it, through others and myself, and as condensed as possible and to make it easier for myself to tell:

the story

i became aware of this new blog after he @ me and he messaged me. he's been following me. i was slow to engage because i have a lot of things going on in my real life that cost me a lot of energy during the day. i have also grown cautious of too quickly becoming close to strangers online. i became aware, however, that he had been doing this with multiple bigger creators in this space, like my friend @hawke, who is also a creator in the bg3 space, and who has experienced the same behaviour. they asked me if i knew him and i replied that i did not.

that was it for me at that point and i didn't engage much beyond that because i didn't know him and i thought nothing of it - until later.

during that time, whenever i saw his creations pop up increasingly, either in the tags or on my dash, i noticed more and more that they looked familiar to the works of others, from @minthara, to @mercymaker, to @onewingedangels and other creators, including myself.

it was then confirmed that i wasn't simply imagining things when, months ago, two creators were brave enough to speak up about the fact that he has been plagiarising gifsets and edits from them:

@minthara and @mercymaker:

@onewingedangels original set posted on 31st december 2023:

his set posted on 29th january 2024 (now deleted):

this was done without consent, and after he had already copied prior sets from @onewingedangels.

i would greatly recommend reading the posts shared above, and looking at the examples provided in it, so that you get a clear picture of what's happening here. it's not one isolated incident.

if you take a look at the notes in the post, you can also see other creators speaking about their experiences.

@minthara has recently also uploaded a google docs with the screenshots of the sets stolen from them because they either have been deleted, or lead to nothing due to now multiple url changes.

i was made aware today that he, following the first posts detailing @minthara and @mercymaker's experiences, apologised at first and admitted to what he's been doing on 31st march 2024:

but sadly, this wasn't to last, and the opportunity to learn and grow wasn't taken.

instead what happened was now painted as "bullying" from other creators, as "clique" behaviour and as "gatekeeping", despite many of us operating independently from each other. i, myself, have only started speaking to one other creator involved now that i have noticed the stealing and copying still ongoing.

i have in my time on this website never gatekept anything. i have shared metas, gifsets, creations, mods, art, tutorials, and many other things freely.

but back to the matter at hand: after he has been trying to ingratiate himself to me for some time now, following me, unfollowing me, and refollowing me again until i blocked him for my own mental health, i tried to remain civil before this point, engaging rarely if at all, hoping everything would go away on its own - which was a mistake in hindsight, i realise - i noticed that once again he's been lifting entire concepts and frame-by-frame gifs and sets from me.

things that he now claims - likely after he has been made aware of my prior personal posts and @minthara and @mercymaker's post circulating again by being reblogged by other people who have been affected) - were simply "remade" or "expanded" upon, that he may have been "subconsciously" influenced, while simultaneously claiming that he didn't know these sets existed in the first place, that he came up with the ideas independently, and that it's simply inevitable to use the same scenes because it's a limited game.

this doesn't hold up under scrutiny, however.

i want to make clear that i very much understand and that i am acutely aware that i do not own scenes and i do not own mods or outfits. however, what i do like to pride myself on is coming up with concepts and scene choices and captions accompanying these concepts that are unique, inspired by my metas, headcanons pertaining to gale and my own ocs altonaufein and karl, all of which i have seen copied by him several times now.

this is not as simple as simply gifing the same lines of dialogue from a scene as he and others supporting him are now postulating and i want to make that very, very clear.

another reason why this statement doesn't hold up under any scrutiny and, what ultimately confirmed my suspicion that he has been copying me, was when he - after the first post exposing his behaviour by @minthara and @mercymaker was made - reached out to me, asking if it it's ok to copy a gifset i made (note: again, this happened after he was called out for plagiarising the first time):

i didn't respond quickly enough, so he went ahead and posted it without waiting for my response (the response i gave him is pictured above and for transparancy, i responded about a day later bc of work and irl obligations).

below you can see the stolen post and what i managed to save from it:

the set was a 1:1 copy. he wanted a version for his oc so bad that he went ahead and stole my concept anyhow, without even waiting for the permission he asked for.

he went to take it down after my reply, made cautious most likely by his still fresh callout done in march 2024 by @minthara and @mercymaker, and i thought the issue was resolved and it wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't take again without asking, despite having been told not only by myself, but by other creators as well, no. we are not comfortable.

but no. he "remade" the set, switching out gifs while complaining about how he "had to make it original":

my set in question was made on 1st february 2024, he reached out to me on 22nd april 2024 to "remake" the set. he is well aware of the existence of these ideas and concepts and sets he wants to copy, underlined by the need to ask for permission when it's simply too obvious to otherwise deny.

it's no coincidence.

like others have had the experience, i too noticed that he often would not engage with content he planned on stealing or did go through with stealing. he would sometimes present it as his own "remake" of a set he did, of another he was "inspired" or wanted to "expand upon", sometimes crediting, sometimes crediting someone largely unrelated, sometimes and, more often, not crediting.

as i mentioned above, this was not the first and not the only set/concept, which he copied from me - whether that was before asking or after asking, or not asking at all, if it was ok to copy.

i use this example mainly to show a clear pattern of behaviour that exists across the board: he takes concepts from other creators and inserts his own oc and/or favourite character into it because he wants a version of it so very badly. it does not matter if said creator might be hurt, if they told him no, or if they exposed his behaviour before. it doesn't matter how old the set is or how recent.

it is still going on today, the only difference is that he has stopped asking at all once again.

my story completely echoes that of @minthara and @mercymaker's.

concrete examples

i will now go into more detail about the concept sets he's been copying, include the caption or quote attached to it. i'm sorry that these will not be in chronological fashion. i will add at a later point, just like @minthara has done, a google document to better do side by side comparisons, highlight the similarities visually even more, and preserve some of the sets, which have now been deleted by him as recently as today:

the theme of hands in gale's romance

-> mine posted on 23rd september 2023

versus

-> his 1 posted on 24th february 2024

-> his 2 posted on 17th june 2024

i want to preface this by saying that the theme of hands was and still is incredibly important to story of my oc altonaufein and has concept of romance with gale. again, while i do not own these scenes, i wished to highlight a theme that i identified as poignant and profound within the relationship context. it's also why i added the poetry and quotes accompanying the set.

notice how even the caption format matches. the only thing lacking are my quotes / poems.

the format matches almost entirely: gifs from the same scenes (pulling gale out of the portal, the bench scene in an illusionary waterdeep, the astral sea scene, the boat scene, and more of the boat scene). the only thing that was added in this gifset are scenes that weren't available to me back then, namely the updated proposal scene, the kisses patches, and the epilogue as they came out well after i made my original gifset.

the second re-make even contains a gif that's not only the same minute detail of a larger scene - one that anyone who played gale's romance knows contains a multitude of other parts that could have been used - but also the same frames:

mine vs his:

i suppose adding that one to the original post with the same format i had chosen for mine would have made it too obvious, but that is only speculation.

gale + missing waterdeep/home

-> mine posted on 30th september 2023

versus

-> his (deleted on 18th july 2024) so i will have to include screenshots so you may compare:

same caption format, overlapping scenes chosen, only new additions are of content that wasn't available to me back when i first made my original set (the epilogue, kiss patches and proposal scene).

an attempt at "credit" even though he is only referencing my tags on an entirely separate set of a different creator, not the concept i came up with in my original set months prior.

and even though i have told him no before, just like others have told him no before.

i think it speaks volumes that this set is now, like some others, have been suddenly and coincidentally deleted.

gale of waterdeep vs gale dekarios

-> mine posted on 20th november 2023

versus

-> his posted on 13th may 2024

the concept is entirely the same, the scenes are largely overlapping, again, the caption format is almost entirely identical, with the sole difference of me including the full quote and devnotes as i'm wont to do.

gale + i love you

-> mine posted 16th september 2023

versus

-> his 2 (a "remake" of an "older" set of "his") posted on 13th may 2024

again, the concept is entirely the same, it's same caption format, the scenes largely overlap, some of the gifs added that were not available to me when i made my set (which, again, would include the epilogue, kisses patches, and the updated proposal scene).

mermay gale

-> mine posted on 13th may 2024

versus

-> his posted on 21st may 2024

it's the same concept again, the caption format is similar, it's the same setting (camp at baldur's gate), the same armour, the same armour tint, the same 3/4 pose except mirrored, and, this time, his tags were inspired too:

my tag: #i have the worst art block still and virtually no time but i still wanted to do smth for mermay so have this

his tag: #i can't do art so heres my mermay contribution i guess

copied oc post

-> mine posted on (likely) 30th september 2021

versus

-> his originally posted on may 7th 2024, which has also now been deleted on 18th july 2024:

the only thing different was the font. sadly, i deleted my oc post since i have redesigned some of them and wanted to make an updated version of it in the future.

thankfully i found the link on my friends blog, @ayrennaranaaldmeri.

as you can see, all of these happened after the first cases of plagiarism and after i personally told him that i'm not comfortable with him "remaking" my concept sets as his.

conclusion

there are many other sets that i suspect have been copied or plagiarised, i want to remain objective, however, and include the ones i feel are the most damning examples, supported by the fact that he has been deleting some of them today while again, trying to set up his narrative to his audience.

again, i want to highlight the pattern is here with him. my post is not the first, my suspicious are the first.

he knows what he is doing wrong, highlighted by the fact of trying to ask for permission, by deleting sets in question, by, at first, apologising, whilst now talking about "gatekeeping", "bullying", "inevitable repeats of scenes", "taking inspiration", "scrolling by", being "subconsciously" influenced, etc.

as a conclusion, i can say nothing more on this topic other than that i'm very sad. it doesn't give me joy. it stressed me immensely then and it still does now. i wish he'd have taken the already admitted wrong-doing to heart and grown from it, instead of attempting to change the narrative and doubling down on his past behaviour, not examining what he has done and is doing several times over by now.

i have blocked him now, as have done many others, and will not engage further with him. we have been through this before and at this point, i don't think he will change.

what i do very much hope, however, is that this is the last i hear of this happening.

edit:

updated the links to lead to his "archive" so you can access the stolen sets that he still hasn't deleted and seems to have no intentions of doing so.