#thank you for your service sir if we never hear from you again

[heybaetae]

i really fear namuspromised has abandoned us forever

[haunted-moon]

Long Way Home [Part II]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 1 here.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part II

I started noticing that I got stared at more than usual whenever I came to visit father. Apparently, he had proudly told everyone who came to be treated that his daughter now studied in the House of the Wind and worked for the High Lord himself. I was happy to see him happy, but at the same time embarrassed when I was in the spotlight of attention. 

In my most recent visit, there were only a few patients to take care of, and none to stay the night in the infirmary room. Father cooked a deliciously smelling vegetable soup with mouth watering garlic bread for dinner. We carried the food along with a bottle of homemade wine to the terrace of our building. We did this often, sitting under the magnificent sky of the City of Starlight. It kind of became our ritual after mother died, where after all the eating and drinking, I'd lie down with my head on father's lap like I used to do as a small child, and he narrated stories of her. 

Our family history was a bit strange. My father was a proud, handsome descendant of the Illyrians, but my mother had been a high fae from the Summer Court. I've heard that most of my ancestors' pairing is similar to that. 

Your mother, she had this alluring green eyes, the colour which you see in the depths of a still pond, never letting go once you are pulled into. I can still see how the soft wind caressed her pinkish hair against her skin. He loved to describe her, and repeated over and over again the story of how they met. 

The story of how she died was only told once, and he never repeated it again. When I had been two years old, mother was pregnant with my sister. There was an internal bleeding which didn't stop, and sadly, both mother and child succumbed to it.

According to one of my neighbours, father was completely devastated after her death. He even stopped selling his services for a while. He didn't talk to anyone and sulked alone, which was completely opposite to his usual extrovert nature. I don't remember any of this, though. Even with sadness in his heart, he never forgot that he had a living daughter and my childhood was full of happy memories. 

Well, mostly. 

That night, he was telling me the story of how he used to paint my mother's toenails with colour when she was pregnant and couldn't do it herself—his personal favourite which I listened to every time like I was hearing it for the first time—when a shadow flew across the starry sky and landed in front of us. 

It was Azriel. 

I pushed myself into a sitting position, squinting at the cloth wrapped parcel which he held in both hands. When my father stood up to greet him, he extended it forward. 

"Greetings, sir. The High Lord and Lady send their compliments," he then turned to me. "Hello, y/n."

I nodded while father conveyed his thanks and accepted the parcel. Azriel was about to leave right then, but father insisted on him having dinner before he did so. He hesitated, his gaze dropping at our empty dining plates and wine bottle, but eventually agreed. They went down the stairs into the warmth of the kitchen and I followed. 

Father was already making cheery conversation, and Azriel joined after a while. They knew some mutual fae and some members of the Illyrian clan, and began having an earnest discussion. 

Azriel was ushered to sit while I set the table and father heated up the food. He always made extra portions because someone could unexpectedly stopped by for a chat and had to be welcomed with delicious food every time. While Azriel ate and they talked, I silently listened from a chair nearby. I felt the familiar squeezing ache in my chest as I watched them, because I could tell that Azriel was not humouring my father out of mere politeness and genuinely wanted to converse. He was never like that with me in the few months I've spent in the House. 

I felt prickling behind my eyes, and I excused myself to my room before it turned into tears. Once underneath my warm covers, I let the tears fall and fell into a tired slumber. 

I was jerked back into consciousness when I heard the sound of my bedroom door being opened. My eyes were swollen shut from all the crying and I had to fight to open them a bit and see who came in. 

It was father. He sat on the side of my bed and gently caressed my hair, noticing that I was awake. 

"Azriel left just now. We talked for a long time."

I closed my eyes and sighed, trying very hard not to cry again. "Hmm."

"Has he hurt you?" He asked, his voice low.

I blinked open my eyes in confusion. "Who?"

"Azriel."

I scoffed and shook my head. "I don't even know him that well to be hurt, papa."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's why you cried yourself to sleep, huh?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, not answering. He knew everything anyway.

He stood up and fetched a cold compress for my eyes. I felt fresh tears threatening to spill, and pushed the compress deeper onto my eyelids. 

"Does he have a mate already?"

"No. It doesn't matter. They'll feel the bond towards each other soon, anyway. The High Lady's sister might be the one."

"I see."

He was silent for a while. The swelling eased down and I could open my eyes wider. When the compress wasn't so cold anymore, I put it on the nightstand and wriggled back to a comfortable position. Father gently patted my head in a rhythm to help me sleep. 

"You'll find a deserving mate too, don't worry," he whispered. "A heart has to eventually find its home."

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Read Part 3 here.

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

[ensignsimp]

Love Languages TOS HCs: Kirk, Spock, McCoy

Prompts: How do the TOS Kirk, Spock, and McCoy show their love and what are some things they love to do with their partner.

James T. Kirk

Words of Affirmation

He loves to give pep talks, and enjoys receiving them when he needs them.

When you call him "Captain or Sir" in the gentlest tones he practically melts.

If you run your fingers through his hair and call him a "Good Boy or Good Captain.", he feels completely renewed and invigorated.

He'll call you all sorts of cute pet names; "Sunshine, Honey-Bun, Sweetie."

But he needs you when he calls you; "My Sunshine, My Star, My Ensign."

He'll lay in your lap while you stroke his hair and remind him of how great of a leader he is, and how much you love him.

"Ensign, I need you. I need my sunshine."

Physical Touch

He feels so lonely when he can't hold your hand.

While on the bridge he gives you firm pats on the back, ruffles your hair, kisses your hand, or even sneaky hugs from behind.

If you initiate the physical touch that is even better, he can practically feel the love flowing from your fingers.

During your off-hours, he will constantly be looking for cuddles and snuggles.

He even whines and groans if he has to get up or if you have to get up. He's so cute when he's pouty.

He loves to lay in your lap and have you run your fingers through his hair while you read to him.

Jim: "I feel so lost without you, take me in your arms, and promise to never let go."

Ensign (L/N): "Jim, we're working and you're standing five feet away from me."

Jim: "That's too far!"

Quality Time

He wants to spend as much time with you as possible, but he wants to make it meaningful.

The two of you read to each other, as well as play games, dance, and do a variety of other things.

He likes to have "in-quarters" dates because he feels like he can be more of himself around you.

He loves to have movie dates where you take turns picking movies and making snacks.

He will totally do your nails and braid your hair.

You two will most definitely hold the best slumber parties in Star Fleet history.

"I think this shade suits you better don't you think? After this, we can watch that new rom-com that just came out on Vulcan."

S'Chn T'Gai Spock

Acts of Service

In Vulcan Culture what you do for each other is more than what you say.

While he loves to help you and ensure you're well taken care of, when you do the same for him he knows that you care.

If you notice that he may be overwhelmed and step in to assist him you can practically hear his heart pounding.

He always appreciates it if you help him with the task and work on it together.

If you forgot to finish a report don't worry he'll help you finish.

If he is struggling on the bridge, you're there to take orders and provide additional aid!

Spock: "Thank you for your help, Ensign. I appreciate the assistance."

McCoy: "Get a room!"

Quality Time

He loves it when you spend time together, even if it's some mindless task or chore.

He does try to find more interesting ways of spending time together.

He may teach you things about his culture; how to read, write, and speak Vulcan, how to play the Vulcan Harp, and how to cook Vulcan meals.

He may ask you to show him things you enjoy; your favorite books, your favorite meals, your favorite activities, etc.

He may even propose trying new things together; such as taking a class or workshop.

Anything and everything he can do with you is always greatly appreciated by him.

"If you are interested in further study might I recommend this. I think you may enjoy it."

Physical Touch

He is so touch-starved, and all he wants to do is hold hands.

When you first hold hands it was a bit of a shock to feel your minds link.

Soon the two of you could barely keep your hands off of each other.

He's always reaching out for an ozh'esta (* finger embrace). (Just like his father. *cough**cough*)

When the two of you are alone in your quarters he enjoys sitting across from you, pressing his forehead against yours and holding your hands.

He feels so comforted by your touch. You ease his mind bringing him so much warmth and comfort.

" When I am with you, it is as if I have found another part of myself I did not know I was missing."

Leonard McCoy

Quality Time

McCoy values time with you above all else.

He prefers to spend his off hours wrapped up in a large fluffy blanket cuddled with you.

He does like to do fun things like take you dancing or going for moonlit shore walks.

But because he spends most of his time in sickbay he prefers to sit and not move as much as possible.

He feels bad that he can't do what a younger partner might.

But you always reassure him by greeting him in your pajamas and a fuzzy robe.

Ensign L/N: *wearing an old fuzzy bathrobe and slippers* "You want to stay in tonight? I found an old western movie and picked up some ice cream from the commissary."

McCoy: *trying not to cry* "That's the best idea I've heard all day. I love you so much damn it."

Acts of Service

He hates to see you get hurt but always loves it when you visit him.

When you get sick or hurt he stops everything he's doing to help you.

When he gets sick or hurt and you stop everything you're doing to help him, he's a mess.

He kind of likes it when you're bossy with him, making sure he's drinking water and eating.

You always make sure he's well looked after and you always visit him regularly.

A doctor's favorite patient may be one he doesn't see but he'd prefer if you stop by now and again.

"Stop your belly-achin' and relax. I'll check on you again soon. You're lucky I love you so much."

Words of Affirmation

He doesn't show it often but he can get insecure about your relationship.

He doesn't feel like he's up to the task like he used to be when it comes to romance.

You'll sometimes see him looking in the mirror longer or running his hands over his stomach.

But when you compliment him or tell him how much you love him all of his worries disappear.

He gets all grumpy at first until you coax out the truth.

He will let you know what is bothering him and you'll make sure to help him through it one step at a time.

"Some days I don't even know why you'd want to spend time with an old man like me. But I always appreciate that you do."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Between the Lines 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters:Lee Bodecker

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There’s banging on the door. So loud it wakes you in your bed. You roll over, dizzy with grogginess, and stumble onto your feet. Zuzu, your sleepy calico, only lifts her head before dropping it back down. She doesn’t have energy for human concerns.

You follow the banging as it continues and come out to the main room of your apartment. Your neighbours aren’t exactly peaceful but you don’t expect such a rude awakening. You go to the door and peek through the peephole. You can see nothing as it’s covered from the other side.

The door shakes and a voice holler through, “police.”

You’re not sure you trust the disembodied declaration. You keep the chain hooked but turn the latch back. You lean into the door and inch it open. It’s pushed from the other side to the limit of the links.

“Hel…lo,” your greeting splits in two as the officer drags his hand away from the door. It’s the same man from the bookstore. The sheriff, he said.

“Good mornin’, ma’am,” he drawls with a coy smirk, “we got calls about a disturbance in the building. You hear anything?”

His question hangs between you. His eyes drift down to your crooked pajama shirt and the pajama pants clinging low to your hips. You cross your arms and sniff. You not his badge; Sheriff. L. Bodecker.

“I just woke up. Didn’t hear a thing,” you answer curtly.

“We’re just makin’ sure everyone’s safe,” he looks you in the eye and tilts his head, “ladies livin’ alone…”

“I’m fine,” you feel the way he pushes even more on the door. You almost fear he’ll pull the chain completely loose.

“Ya mind if I have a look around?” He asks.

You stare at him, unflinching. Something about this doesn’t seem coincidental. It’s as ominous as the words that dogged you since your tense meeting in the parking lot.

“Do you have a warrant?” You breathe.

He chuckles and pulls his arm back, shoving his foot into the small space between the door and frame, “now,” he rubs his ruddy cheek, “why would I need that if you’re not hidin’ anything?”

“Hiding? What? I just don’t think it’s necessary for you to come in. I told you, I haven’t heard a thing.”

“Mmm,” the noise rumbles up his throat, “just lookin’ out for ya. Wouldn’t want some creep hangin’ around.” He clucks and puts his hand on his hip, “rough neighbourhood.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine,” you insist.

He smirks again and gets closer. You keep your hand on the door but lean away, “I’m sure you can take care of yourself. You’re a smart girl and all.”

“Sir,” you eke out.

He laughs and taps the door with his knuckles. He pulls his foot out of the door and you nearly slam it with the release of tension. He backs up, pushing out his stomach as he eyes you from head to toe. You hide behind the barrier but it feels like he can see everything.

“You stay safe,” he winks and turns lazily on his heel.

You snap the door shut and quickly turn the deadbolt. Your heart pumps wildly as you cling to the handle. You listen and hear his soles scuff down the hallway. You wonder how he found you but you guess it’s not that hard given his position.

🚓

The rest of the day holds little of note. No more surprises, even as you watch over your shoulder. Not just for the sheriff but your manager. Colin isn’t subtle as he circles like a hawk each time you’re with a customer.

You’re probably the most helpful employee left in the place. Ever since that older woman disappeared on sick leave, you seem to be the only employee without an addiction to TikTok. You can understand being distracted in a bookstore but definitely not by your phone.

You leave for the day and stop on your way home to get take out at the Lebanese shop at the corner of your street. They have a combo sale that costs you as much as a homemade meal. You’re feeling lazy and too agitated to deal with a hot stove.

You feed Zuzu after she serenades you shrilly. You eat with her pacing behind you on the couch, waiting for any scrap to pounce on as she forgets her kibble. You try to ignore her as you watch a documentary on Alexandre Dumas. You lose interest shortly after you finish your food and shut off the television.

You recline on the couch with your book, too stubborn to go to bed yet. You know you’ll fall asleep the minute your head touches the pillow. You lay against the armrest and ease into the collection of essays on the Victorian era and various strains of relationships; from friendship to marriage.

It’s not the most compelling to the non-academic but you find spurts of intrigue. You yawn and turn the page, the quiet coaxing you further into your fatigue. Your eyes turn itchy and the font begins to smear. You close the book and get up, leaving it under the lamp as you flick off the light.

You collapse into bed as Zuzu claims her spot by your feet. It doesn’t take much to fall asleep, the world slipping into blackness in a blink. 

The sharp hiss brings you back to the world. You sit up, trying to shake away the cloudiness in your skull. You hear Zuzu jump onto the floor and scurry into the next room. Then a crash.

“What the he–” you murmur as you shove yourself to the edge, “Zu, what are you doing?”

You call out to the cat as you follow her into the front room. As you come out, the darkness is thicker than you expect. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the streetlights and the moon, but you don’t remember closing them.

Zuzu hiss again then lets out an angry yowl, her claws tearing into the rug as she rips around the room. Another clatter as you search through squinting eyelids. What is going on?

“Zu,” you think you see her dash across the floor. You bend over and lunge, trying to catch her, “Zu, chill–”

You feel something clasp around the back of your neck, stopping you in place as it holds you bent awkwardly over your knees. You extend your arms, fingertips on the floor as the thick fingertips pinch into your tendons. You whimper in horror.

“Ain’t no good for a girl like you to be livin’ on her own,” the sheriff’s voice rolls through the dark.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#357

“Not finding much activity in there?  Didn’t think so.  I don’t know how many dicks you are going to find hanging out in the toilet there.  Not too many men up here alone, let alone men that are willing to slide their cocks under the partition there.  Don’t look surprised.  I’ve been driving trucks all my life.  I can spot a faggot hungry for a real man’s cock when I see him…. 

“You can stop looking for my semi; it ain’t up here.  No, I’m up here in a camper.  My wife and two sons are making their way down to the bottom.  They’ll be gone for the day.  There is no way I was going to even attempt it.  I’ve done it before many years ago.  It holds no premium.

“So I am stuck up here bored shitless.  The cell service up here is shit, so watching porn and jacking off is pointless.  You wanna come into my camper and take care of my needs?

“Good.  One thing you need to know is that when I pick up a faggot at one of the rest areas, I am picking up a faggot, not some gay boy.  Same thing’s going to happen here.  You are here to take care of my needs, not yours.  I’m up here alone for three to four more hours at least, but it will probably more like five or six.  I don’t need to have some faggot bailing after cumming in the first five minutes.  You got that?

“Faggot don’t look at me like that.  You don’t want me to smack you again, you better answer me with more respect.  Now I asked, ‘You got that?’

“Look, I ain’t your dad.  I already got two sons.  Address me as ‘Sir.’  One final time, you got that?

“Better.  This is my camper.  Hold on.  I need to get my rim seat from the back of the Silverado….  Yup, you are going to spend time getting close with my shithole. 

“Get inside and strip.  My family thinks I use this in my semi for when I have to take a dump when I’m out in the middle of nowhere, which is why we have it here.  It never gets used for that.  I use it on all the faggots I bring into my semi though.  

“Here, put these leather cuffs on….  Faggot, you will keep getting your faggot face slapped if you hesitate like that….  And that slap is for forgetting to thank me for slapping you in the first place.

“Good, now lay on the floor, wrists above your head.  Good.  The D-rings on the cuffs are big enough to take a rim seat leg through.  Like that.  So now, when I plant my big fat trucker ass on that seat, your hands are useless.  You won’t be able to play with your pecker.  That’s my toy now.  It’s amazing how a swat to the balls will keep a faggot’s tongue focused on my shithole.

“Look up at my fat ass and its crack.  That’s my Grand Canyon.  And just like my sons, you will be spending a few hours in it.  Get that tongue ready, cause here it comes.

“…I don’t feel a tongue….  Faggot! I will hit those balls twice as hard next time.  Of course, I’m not clean.  I took a dump in the stall next to you.  Didn’t you hear?  Typical of public restrooms, there was no toilet paper.  That’s when I saw your foot tapping.  I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to use your tongue.

“Something tells me these balls are going to be black and blue if not destroyed by the time I am done with you.  Which is it faggot?  Your balls or your tongue?...  Ahh, that feels good.”

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 9

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Threats, Harassment, Discussion of possible links to/interest in criminal activity, and Y/N being a trouble magnet

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, here is a link to the other parts:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

The store was spotless. The last customer had left about half an hour ago. There was nothing else to do, so Y/N took it upon herself to make sure it was pristine and ready for the next night traveler that would grace the establishment. Did she honestly expect anyone to come in? No, but this just meant she had one last thing to do before the shift was through.

“And now, I wait.” She mumbled as hopped up onto the stool behind the counter. It was going to be a boring and hellish shift with so little to do, but that just meant she was getting paid to do nothing. And that is far better than having to deal with some cranky customer. Grabbing her book from under the counter, she dove into the realm that awaited. A place where good, evil, and morally grey collided into a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors of adventure, intrigue, and romance. Within these pages, she was not some minimum wager struggling to make ends meet in some crime-ridden city. Within these bound sheets, she was free…until the chime of the front door pulled her back to reality. Of course, someone comes in just when I thought I’d be doing nothing.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” The familiar accented voice made Y/N’s jaw tighten as she slipped her bookmark back into the book and looked up to see none other than Citlalli’s troublesome cousin, Matías, and his posse of trouble. The one who always had some kind of job that would promise big reward, and would definitely get you killed if you were lucky. She could still recall the look on the Penguin's face when he realized he was being had. A look she never wanted to see once in her lifetime, let alone again. 

I’d rather deal with those secret menu drinks and hear the brainless chatter of the overprivileged youth than deal with him. A lobotomy sounds delightful, even. “Welcome, what can I get started for you today?” She plastered on her award-winning customer service smile as she stood from the stool and stepped up to the register.

“C’mon Lindura, don't be like that.” He softly clicked his tongue and reached across the counter to grab her hand. Y/N was quick to pull her arm back to her side.

“I will have to ask you to refrain from reaching across the counter, sir. If you need time for your order, you may do so, but I request you step aside. Anyone who is ready in the group, I am happy to help.”

“Damn, Matty, she’s not playing with you today.” The group snickered.

“Fuck off, that’s just how mi pequeña petardo is.” Matías eyed Y/N and smirked. It made her skin crawl, and she wanted to burn every inch that had the poor luck of being seen by such a leering gaze. “Isn’t that right, Nena? You like playing hard to get, don't worry, I’m not giving up that easy.”

No, please do. Give up, better yet, please walk into a wall however many times it takes for you to completely forget about my existence as a whole. She bit back the retort, reminding herself that she was at work and being recorded. She needed this job to pay off the 4k. “Sir, I'm not "playing ard to get", you're simply impossible to want. I am but a simple café employee working her shift, nothing more. So, what would you like?”

“For you to finally say yes and be mine.” She had to admit it was a smooth answer, but coming from him it was more greasy, like deep fried onion rings fresh out of the fier and still swimming in the oil. Her temple began to throb as the group cheered and encouraged Matías to go on. Emboldened, he leaned over the counter some more and attempted to grab her again. She smacked his hand away and glared.

“Strike two, Matías, keep this up, and I’ll call the cops.” She kept her voice flat as she glared at him. “Now, do you want to order anything or not? If not, get out and leave me alone. I’m not interested in you, your idiotic lackeys, or whatever pitch you're trying to sell.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to us like that, bitch?” The one to Matías’ right snapped, grabbing and tugging her closer by the front of her apron. “Do you know who you’re messing with?” It was obvious from the clothes that he wore and the way he held himself, this guy was a hot headed rich kid trying to be cool.

“Someone with severe halitosis?” She rolled her eyes, trying to tug his hand off of her apron. “Let me go, or you'll regret it.”

“Regret it?” The rich kid scoffed. “How? Gonna call the cops? Then what? Even if we give ya the chance to call them, it’s gonna take time for them to get here. That gives us plenty of time for some fun. Plus my dad knows the commissioner, they can’t do shit” His slimy smug smirk was the last straw. Her free hand gripped the counter edge as she tried to create distance by pulling back as she tugged at his wrist in the opposite direction.

“I’m how.” Everyone turned at the newcomer’s voice, surprised to see that someone else was there at all, since the door had not chimed at someone else coming in.

No way, Wonder Boy?! Y/N’s jaw dropped at the turn of luck of having someone as witness to the harassment.

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be? Piss off and mind your own business.” The tallest of the group stepped forward.

“Guys, settle down.” Matías glared at Jason. There was something unnerving about him, and he knew fighting him as they are now would be a loss on their end. “Joey, let her go.”

“But Matty,” the rich kid turned to their leader to insist, but one look from Matías was all it took for him to back down. “You’re lucky, bitch.” He sneered, shoving her backwards hard enough to send her falling back into the counter behind her. The sharp pain up her spine was hard to ignore, but she refused to give them the satisfaction.

“You’ve misunderstood the situation, my friend! Lindura and I, we go way back. She’s my cousin’s best friend, after all.” He gave Jason a broad smile as he hooked an arm around Joey. “Joey here likes to play rough, we were all just joking around. We were actually in to see our good friend Ryan. He was supposed to be in tonight, which is why we stopped by in the first place. Seeing Lindura was just a big surprise.”

So he was expecting Ryan? Or is he just bluffing and just said the first generic white name he could think of? Y/N eyed Citlalli’s cousin with great suspicion. Her gut was telling her that it was most likely the former, and there was a lot that was not being said. Knowing what she did about him, what was unsaid was usually dangerous, and her expensive knight in shining armor did not need to get involved in all that. Is he trying to get other staff mixed up in his schemes? Don’t tell me he’s trying to pull a fast one on the Penguin again. Or is this him trying to gain turf and get noticed by some other criminal mastermind? Didn’t he idolize the Riddler or Scarecrow? Yeah, I need to be associated with that just as much I need a hundred bullets turning me into human Swiss cheese!

“Lindura?” She snapped out of her thoughts at the call of the annoying pet name she was given by Matías.

“For the hundredth time, quit calling me that.” She snapped. Shit, what did he say? “Also, don't get me or him involved in whatever this is. You’re on private property and our company wants nothing to do with any of it, understand? If you’re not ordering, leave. He wants to order, and you’re holding him up.” She motioned to Jason, purposely avoiding any confirmation of someone named Ryan being employed here. The less she said, the more distance she could keep from whatever was going on. I’ll just let Mr. B know later. I better let Cici know, too, I don’t want her or the rest of her family getting dragged into his nonsense. Matías glared at her response, looking between her and Jason in silence. He was clearly angry with her and her answer, but said nothing more. He turned towards the door, which was behind Jason, and shoved past him. His little group of lackeys followed suit, glaring and sneering at Jason, who barely even flinched at their attempts of intimidation. He turned and watched the group climb into their car and drive off before turning back to face Y/N.

“So, he’s really a friend of yours or,” he trailed off.

“More like a pain in my side. Like he said, he’s my best friend’s annoying cousin.” She sighed, rubbing the sore spot on her back. “Thanks, for stepping in like that. He’s…not the best person to be around and hangs around unsavory people, as you saw. I want as little to do with him as possible, but he just can’t seem to take a hint.”

“Is that what you call hinting? I’d hate to see what you being blunt is,” he chuckled as he walked up to the counter. Does she remember who I am? “So, this would be the second time I save you?”

Ah, so he does know it’s me! “Are you asking? Because I might need to start charging you, again.” He raised his hands up in mock surrender.

Yup, definitely does. “Purely rhetorical, but if you must, you can put it on my tab.” He chuckled. Y/N rolled her eyes at his confidence, she had to. Otherwise, she would have found it cute, and she needed to not find him anymore attractive than she already did. “So, are you closing up shop or can I order?”

“Sadly, I’m stuck here until the next shift comes in at 8. For some reason, we need to be a 24-hour location. So, what’ll it be, Wonder Boy? Order whatever you like, it’ll be on the house. The Least I can do for you since you saved me from that mess.” She straightened her apron and stood in front of the register once more.

“Something tells me your boss won’t like that, and you'll end up paying for it. How about I buy us both something, and you come join me at a table?” Jason offered, looking around at the vacant shop, to point out that she really had nothing to lose if she did. It was a very tempting offer, though she was equally happy with just sitting back here and reading her book, but when would be the next time she would meet him? To get a chance to actually talk to him and sort out this hotel mess?

“Well, if you insist,” she forced a heavy sigh of reluctance. “What’ll you have? The bakery items are either made in house or bought fresh from local shops, by the way. I’d suggest one of the sandwiches if you're looking for something more filling or aren't too big on sweets.” He hummed audibly as he stepped to the right, peering into the display case before glancing up at the menu that was hung up behind her before making his selection and insisting she or more than a drink. As promised, he paid for the entire order, and she quickly got to work making everything.

The second son of Bruce Wayne silently watched as she moved around behind the counter, sometimes disappearing behind the door to what he could only assume was the kitchen. After weeks of searching, he finally had her. He finally found the young woman he landed into a sizable amount of financial hardship, and she was not against spending time with him. Now I just need to figure out a way to bring up the topic. If those assholes didn’t make such a scene, I could've easily brought it up now and insisted on paying. But now she’s going to feel indebted to me for saving her again, and might fight me on it. There's got to be a way to make this work. He frowned, crossing his arms as he watched the back of her head move left and right as she began to make whatever drink she had put in for herself. He knew it could not be his order, he kept it simple with coffee, medium with creamer and sugar. The fact that I broke a coffee machine, and she works at a café, she must really think I’m some sort of imbecile. He ruffled his hair to release some pent-up frustration.

“Here’s your coffee and sandwich. Here’s my drink and pastry,” he heard her mumble to herself as she reviewed the ticket once more before stepping out from behind the counter. “We should be good. If you need anything, just let me know and I’ll grab it for you. Anywhere in particular you want to sit?” He glanced around the room before settling on a window side table that was a half booth on the window with chairs on the opposite.

That looks like it’s the closes to the counter, so she doesn’t have to go running if someone else comes in, and the lot is visible from there too. If those assholes decide to come back, I can handle it. “Over there is fine.” He pointed towards the table, placing everything on his tray and carrying it over. Y/N watched with raised eyebrows at the gentlemanly treatment. She was not one to judge by looks, but he certainly did not look like the type to be so courteous. “Are you coming?” She blinked away her look of surprise as she walked towards him.

“Color me impressed. Is saving damsels your forte?” She grabbed the chair to take a seat when Jason motioned for her to sit in the booth.

“I’ll let you know if you got anyone coming in.” He took the chair from her and sat down. “As for me saving damsels, I guess it depends. Do you make it a business to always be in distress?” He smirked, stirring his coffee a bit before taking a sip.

“I don’t make it my business, if you must know. Trouble likes to court me whenever it gets the chance.” She scowled, plopping onto the cushioned seating. “And it seems like you are around quite often when it’s doing its damnedest. Should I be wary of you?”

Oh, you have no idea. “Is that any way to treat your savior, twice over?” He exaggerated his frown as he leaned back into his seat.

“That depends, are you causing the trouble so you can do the saving, or am I just that lucky to have you around to save me?”

“You’re not ‘just lucky’ if it’s me doing the saving. You could say I’m a bit of a professional,” he thumbed his nose, earning a loud “ha” from Y/N.

“Fancy yourself as some sort of warrior of justice? A lesser known caped crusader?”

“No capes, definitely no capes.” He sternly answered. Y/N stared at him, surprised by the tone of his voice, but ended up laughing it off, just like the last statement. He was clearly playing along with her line of inquiry. Jason, on the other hand, was being honest and was a little annoyed by her lack of believing him. It did not help that he found her laughter melodious and the joy of it so infectious that it placated the momentary irritation of her waving his words off as something humorous.

“Ok, a capeless crusader, got it.” She picked up her drink and took a sip. “Well, thank you, in all seriousness. You really saved me on both counts. I’m pretty sure that drink you took on my behalf was drugged, which would explain why you were so out of it afterwards. And even now, even though he knows me, Matías wasn’t going to stop that Joey guy from causing a ruckus. The last thing I need is something that’ll cost me or Cici’s job.”

“Cici, that’s the girl who took my order last time, right?” He thought back to his first visit here. He recalled reading the name tag of the employee he requested to keep his association with Bruce Wayne hidden.“The one and only,” she nodded her head. “Which, speaking of, I wasn’t, she didn’t-” she let out a heavy sigh and raised a finger signaling that she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Jason raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing as he let her take her time while he ate his sandwich. How exactly do I explain this without sounding like I’m blaming him or demanding money?

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 27 - Record-Breaker

Mallard Broke the World Speed Record; It Broke Her:

4468 Mallard broke the world steam speed record in 1938, changing her life forever…

1938:

The quiet, almost timid engine sat in the works, listening to the workers. “You hear? That engine there is fastest in the world!” one said, pointing to the famous engine. Mallard blinked, amazed. She’d never been told if she’d actually broken the record – but to hear that she had, and to hear that it was major news! It was incredible.

There was no one better than her in that moment – she was the greatest!

“Ah, the engine of the hour!” cheered a voice. Mallard gazed down, spotting Sir Nigel Gresley himself walking over. Mallard gasped in amazement. The Chief Mechanical Engineer almost never visited his engines. “I came to congratulate you again, Mallard. I am proud of you – you are truly a credit to this railway. The poster child for what every Northeaster engine should strive for. Well done, and keep up the good work, Mallard.”

Mallard beamed, thanking her designer. Then, she turned to the gossiping workers. “Well? You heard him – I need to be back in service now! Hurry it up!”

1963:

“So, which of us is to be preserved?” asked Silver Link, staring down apprehensively at the members of the British Railways board. The men had come to decide on a Gresley Pacific to save from the scrapper’s torch.

“Who do you think?” snorted one of the men in the bowler hats. “We must choose the locomotive that achieved the greatest feat of a steam locomotive – 60022 Mallard, you are to be restored to your LNER looks and sent to the Museum of British Transport Museum. The rest of you… hope someone purchases you.”

Silver Link just stared in shock as several diesels sniggered in the background. “But I… but… She didn’t even make it back to London! I am the first! I reached 114—” “Stop speaking 60014, there is no reason for you to complain. You are already withdrawn, and shall be sent away once we have the time.” “Mallard… are you going to allow this?” asked Silver Link, eyes wide in horror. “Well, elder sister, some of us are just… more important than others. I represent our class, and I am the best at such an honour.” Silver Link went red in the face, but Mallard was already steaming away, blowing smoke at her elder sister.

Behind Silver Link, Flying Scotsman and Silver King shared a nervous look.

1975:

Flying Scotsman sat on the points outside the brand new York National Railway Museum, Green Arrow on one side and Gordon on the other. It was the first time that the four had seen each other – the fourth being an indignant Mallard sat opposite them.

“What do you mean, he’s worthy of being the same level as me?” sniffed Mallard. “He’s a mixed traffic engine!” “Green Arrow is an LNER engine, same as us,” reminded Scott crossly, facing down his cousin. “And there are only nine LNER Pacifics left, so your levels are completely worthless! We need to end this… this… this…” “Elitist garbage!” Gordon snapped. “We are long past this, cousin. What’s stopping you from accepting Green Arrow?” “Green Arrow is a simple mixed traffic engine,” hissed Mallard. “I am the greatest steam engine to have ever been built! No one has ever, or will ever, beat my record. There’s a reason that I am in this museum, and you are out slaving away to keep in steam.”

“Slaving away?!” Gordon let off steam furiously. Scott just clenched his jaw. “There’s no point arguing with her,” he sighed. “We’re better off just getting the rest on side.” The three steamed away, leaving Mallard to be pushed gently back into the grand museum by a timid diesel shunter.

None of the other engines in the museum spoke to her as she was shunted into place. Not Evening Star, not Aerolite, not Coppernob. They all just shot her dark glances.

1988:

Mallard sped along the line, feeling the wind rush past her face. “I forgot what this was like,” she huffed, finally arriving back at Doncaster after crossing the country to reach Scarborough and back. Several relatives of her crew from back when she’d broken the world record sat in her coaches – but they were inconsequential. After all, any crew could have gotten her up to her record-breaking speed.

“So, how was the run?” asked Gordon politely, sitting in the next platform over. Mallard ignored him. Gordon rolled his eyes. Green Arrow and Spencer shared a look.

“I’m impressed,” hummed Spencer. “Though I’ve heard that the East Germans have built a steam locomotive that’s almost able to match Mallard’s speed.” Mallard’s eye twitched. “No they haven’t!” she suddenly snarled, spooking several of the passengers on the platform. “I am the fastest. That’s my role! Don’t talk such drivel around me.”

Spencer sighed. As the only one of Mallard’s siblings willing to speak to her, and one of only four engines that had spoken to Mallard (he’d checked with Duchess of Hamilton) in the last ten years, he was uniquely able to see just how much his younger sister had changed.

Where Mallard had once been a healthy pale, her pallor had grown almost dangerously blue – while her formerly vibrant eyes had gone dull, with just a hint of something… unsettling in them. And yet her paintwork was spotless, her brass polished until it glistened in the sun, even after a full run with passengers.

“Are you alright?” asked Spencer quietly. Gordon and Green Arrow pretended not to hear. “I beg your pardon?!” roared Mallard, spooking yet more passengers. “Are you insinuating something?! That such a simple run would tire me out? I am the fastest steam engine in the world – I am more than competent, thank you.” “I just wanted to ch—” “Well don’t!” sneered Mallard. “I am fine.”

Spencer’s tentative frown turned downwards into a scowl, and the great silver engine hissed steam as he started away. Gordon watched him go, knowing deep in the pit of his boiler that the silver engine wouldn’t be back.

Silver King had never truly forgiven his younger sister for the way she’d spoken to Silver Link, even if his name had changed, as had his owners and his lifestyle.

2013:

Spencer, Bittern, Dominion of Canada, Dwight D Eisenhower, Union of South Africa, and Sir Nigel Gresley all stood in awkward silence. Their sister – Mallard – was being wheeled out of the museum for a photoshoot. “So… did you hear her last night?” asked Dwight quietly. “She was screaming at the shunting diesels again.” “I can’t believe they made me agree to his,” hissed Spencer. “I promised myself after 1988 – never again. And yet here I am. At least Scott gets to hide in the workshops.” “It cannot be that bad?” tried Woodcock – only the humans called her Dominion of Canada, “I mean… she has to have made some friends in there, right?” “Unlikely,” snorted Osprey – the humans had given her that name in the 1980s, and she much preferred it to ‘Union of South Africa’, “she spends most of her days just glaring at everyone. Last I heard, it’s a real treat for them when she gets brought out here to be gawked at.”

“Shh! Shh! She’s coming,” warned Bittern. The six all went silent as Mallard was dragged off the turntable and over to the line of engines.

“Ah, good, you all made it,” Mallard said haughtily. “It’s what I deserve, getting the humans to bring you all here to celebrate our class’s greatest achievement.” “What you—” Osprey cut off, indignant. Beyond her, Dwight gawked in shock while Spencer just rolled his eyes. The shunter braked the famous engine to a stop, jolting slightly.

“Did you just jolt me?” hissed Mallard, voice deathly quiet. The shunter gulped. “Don’t you dare!” snapped Spencer, speaking to the world-record holder for the first time in nearly thirty years. “You cannot deride these hard-working engines, I refuse to allow it!” “Oh? As if you are any better, Mr Private Engine,” sneered Mallard. “Silver King, the weird runt of the class who galivants off to that backwards island where our Crewe-rebuilt cousin lives.” “Gordon still pulls his express!” roared Spencer, letting off steam furiously. “Gordon treats everyone with respect! He’s a far better representative of our railway than you are – he’s out there, pulling passengers and acting as the ambassador for Gresley’s work. He holds a record for the longest-serving express engine in the world!”

“He has Midland parts,” snarled Mallard. “He’s a mongrel of parts, and I can’t stand him! I can’t stand him and his righteousness! This is my celebration, my record, my museum! He can talk when he has a proper record of his own. Let’s see him try and beat me – oh wait, didn’t he lose his dome last time he attempted that?”

None of the other A4s spoke, and the moment the photoshoot was over, all four in steam left, taking Dwight and Woodcock with them, leaving Mallard alone.

2016:

Flying Scotsman sat outside the NRM, steam wafting from his funnel. He was the last one left. Spencer had permanently relocated to Sodor after 2013, the other A4s steered clear of York Museum, Gordon had his own work, and Green Arrow had moved to Shildon. So, it was only him left to talk to her.

“Oh, it’s the money pit.” “Mallard. I came to say goodbye.” “Goodbye? Where are you going, Gresley Disgrace?” “I’m going to run mainline excursions,” Flying Scotsman replied evenly. “I’m not going to have to listen to you anymore when you scream abuse at the others or rant about the new PRR engine.” “Rant? Abuse? 4472, you don’t understand! I am Gresley’s pride and joy! I am the greatest – he would roll over in his grave if he saw you now. It’s my destiny to be the greatest – and everyone needs to accept that!” “Sir Nigel Gresley loved us all equally,” snapped Flying Scotsman. “And don’t you forget, any one of your class—”

“I did it!” roared Mallard. “Me! Not any of you! I am the world record breaker – I am the greatest steam engine of all time! You’re nothing compared to me! I am Sir Nigel’s triumph! I am the legacy of the Northeasters! Me! How dare you speed to me like that?! Learn your place!”

Flying Scotsman stared evenly back at the shrieking engine. “I have,” he said simply. “And it’s not here. The other engines can survive listening to your abuse, but I don’t have to. You’re nothing, Mallard. Not anymore. You sit here, on this siding, in this shed, and you cling to the past because that’s all you’ll ever have.”

Flying Scotsman puffed out of the shed, the wrecked screams of his cousin following him through the sliding shed doors. They transformed from howls of rage into a hail of screeching tears, as Mallard’s entire self-worth crashed down on her. The former icon of steam and speed finally lost it, all the rage and anger and simmering hatred growing inside her frames boiling over as she cursed her cousin.

Flying Scotsman couldn’t help but feel sorry for the engine – but all the same, she had spent decades wrecking their designer’s good name with her attitude. Her stardom had placed her up on a pedestal – one where the loneliness of fame had engulfed her.

Back to Master Post

[visionsofmagic]

could you write heimdall falling for a midgard human reader and him being really protective over them 🥰

heimdall x midgard&human!reader

[masterlist]

tags: fluff, injury, wound, healing, protective!heimdall, kissing, touching. enjoy!

wc: dunno, but not so long.

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heimdall never mind your presence in the asgard even though you were a mortal; a midgard human who was in all-Father's service thanks to high-quality medical treatment you give to aesir gods and goddess by using a high level magic. being a mortal didn't make you weak, it made you powerful. you were indeed a mortal who would die in some day, one of the things that make heimdall so protective of you, but it didn't mean you were invisible to eyes. no, everyone in asgard knew you, they knew how you treated wounds and pain with your delicate hands.

in the first years that felt like ages were normal. he was joking with you wherever he saw you, you were teasing to him whenever he came to your treatment place, asking if he needed a medic like anyone could hit him.

that was making him angry in that days but slowly, he understood how he enjoyed your presence, hearing your teasing since there wasn't so many individuals who could tease him without thinking its consequences, seeing how your delicate and beautiful hands working fastly and strongly.

you were a strong woman indeed but because of being in love with you, his protective side increased from day to day, 'till it made both of you realize it like the sunlight.

you remembered how you asked him about this after a certain day. in that day, you were trying to heal an outsider god, probably from vanaheim, who had a bad chest injury. vanaheim and asgard were enemies but sometimes they came to here to find health. odin was giving them home in their own realms since he was trying to show his peace supporter side.

why you were in the asgard was complex. you didn't like odin that much, no, but indeed you loved heimdall who became your beloved with time.

as this stranger entered to your working room, you were talking with heimdall who came to you intentionally but acting like he didn't realize how he ended there.

one valkyrie helped man to reach the room and the moment he entered with a bloddy shirt on, you gently cut the conversation with heimdall and rushed towards the man.

whenever you saw someone in pain, your heart was shaking because of feeling so bad. no matter who they were, you felt the same.

so, when you saw the man in pain, moaning lowly, hardly finding his place on the bed you designed for patients. valkyrie left the room as she saw heimdall after giving the information about the man's wound, how he got that and where he got that. she even told where he was from.

after hearing vanaheim, heimdall suddenly came to your side as you kneeled down to bed's level in order to do a better treatment for the man's wound as you picked up his shirt's edges.

"sir," you said, trying to take man's attention, "you need to take this off I am afraid."

he nodded silently, getting a little up to remove his shirt, tossing it to floor, closing his eyes in pure pain.

the wound was occurred because of a magic - magic that had poison in it.

working on his wound, touching his build chest, you heard heimdall's voice behind you.

"do you need to touch that?" he was referring to your hands on the man's chest, traveling around it to break the magic firstly. he didn't like when you both interacted a dangerous magic with poison in it and touched another man even if it meant for medical care.

"don't. he needs a treatment now. we can speak later."

giving him an angry look, you turned to the man again as his eyes began to open slowly, feeling better after you broke the spell.

taking a deep breath, you began to heal the open wound that created by a sharp sword as valkyrie said before. your hands were traveling on man's chest when his hands suddenly held your wrists roughly, making you cry in sudden pain you felt.

before you or the man say something, heimdall's sword found its way on the man's neck, speaking with a deep and dangerous voice, he said, "leave her or I will cut your head."

the man who looked so confused and afraid left your wrists slowly, breathing deeply.

as your hands found their freedom, you gently touched heimdall's shoulder. "it's okay. he is in shock. it's understandable. so, take back the sword."

heimdall's angry purple eyes looked at him for a few times before putting his sword back in his place, taking a step back to give you a space to finish your treatment.

you told the man how he ended in here while giving him last treatments he needed.

he nodded, looking at your hands shyly, "I am sorry."

giving a little smile, you said, "It's okay. now rest in here for some time. when this blue marks on your chest dissappear, you can leave." getting up, you gave him a bottle that had some herbs in it to boost his health. "take this and drink it before getting up. the wound will heal with time."

he nodded, taking the bottle. "I am glad for your help. thank you -"

"y/n." you said.

"thank you y/n."

then he closed his eyes to rest without sleeping.

you turned to heimdall who was watching you in pure annoyance. he never liked how you treated outsider. he didn't trust them. whenever there was an outsider you had to heal, he was being so protective over you. but, this had to be talked between you two. so, you held his hand, knowing very well he would let you - maybe letting you only even to touch him openly, then, you walked 'till you reached your personal room that was close to the your working room but had two corridors between.

closing the door behind, you turned to heimdall who began to play with your medical supplies one by one like he didn't know why you came to here, like he didn't read your mind at all.

"heimdall." you said, standing right behind his back, leaving just an inch to touch him. he turned his head a little, making you see his side profile which was looking so attractive and good. his purple eyes traveled on your face as you touched his shoulder with your chin, making your faces standing so close to each other.

it was so good to be able to looking at his eyes this close.

"why are you doing this? I am not all-father, you know it. you need your protection, not me."

you left his shoulder, going to your bed that had a high level, reaching till your knees. sitting on it, you heard heimdall's low voice.

"no." he said, approaching you. "no." he said again, more sure this time.

"what?" you asked the moment he reached your bed, standing right in front of you. when his stomach were on your eye level, his hand touched your cheek, lifting your head higher to make you make a contact with his eyes that made your heart warming and beating faster.

"I need to protect you too." he said, slowly caressing your lips with his thumb, making you close your eyes. "not only all-father has a space in my heart."

a question hit your mind, creating a huge blow that was full of hope and happiness; was he confessing his love?

"I couldn't imagine how much you would meant for me, but, here we are sweetheart; you are being in my heart with a huge space."

yes, he definitely was!

you opened your eyes to see his smiling one. heimdall who was cocky, the only one you had in asgard, in your life, confessed his love - he had a love for you.

not believing this, you tried to say," heimdall - "

then, he kneeled down, connecting your lips together with a joy that he brought with it, transferring it from his lips to your heart.

moaning shyly, your hands placed on his shoulders, pulling him closer. you realized how you waited for this moment - for so long. you really love him before he even realized your presence. you loved every detail he had. you loved how you waited for him to visit you in your room, every one of them, and you loved how he treated you differently than others, closer and further.

so, when you finally had him, it took a great time to leave him.

when you broke the kiss finally, he smirked, not leaving your side, being close still.

"I love you." you said, feeling a huge joy. "I love you entirely heimdall."

"I know sweetie, I know."

taking deep breaths, you asked, "so that's why you were so protective, huh?"

"about time your brain works cutie."

slapping his shoulder, you rolled your eyes, "how you can expect me to understand your, well, complex behavior."

"I can end every man's, woman's, creature's life that has a threat to your being. I kill thousands just for you - just for knowing you are safe and well. is it the complex behavior, huh, dummy?"

smiling to him, you held his golden hair, caressing it gently," now you talk, huh, cocky?"

he left a smirk lastly before kissing you again, "and now, I will act."

this was the last thing you remembered from that day, following with lots of unholy things with it.

since that day, heimdall always found his way to sneak into your rooms to well, doing lovely and nasty things while protecting you from everyone, having a protective behavior with the love he felt for you in his heart.

the end.

🍰

[teenandbeyond]

Levi Ackerman x M. Reader [Pt.3]

After reading a Levi fanfic, I got inspo to make a prequel to my Hero two-shot...now three-shot (technically). This is what lead up to parts 1 and two.

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

Here are Part One and Part Two.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

⚔Love, Sweat, and Tears⚔ (AOT or SNK)

Warning(s): Fluff, cursing (I think? I don't remember), long, low-key angsty toward the end

Levi just wants some tea, turns out he gets something a little sweet, too.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

"Where are we going?"

"They say this place has the best tea around here, you like tea, right?"

Levi glared at the outside of the building they stopped at.

RoyalTea.

He was still deciding on what he thought of the name.

The outside had a creamy purple color with white and gold painted accents in well-placed areas.

"Wanna go in?" Gabi, one of his caretakers asked.

"They better have good tea."

"It's been open for a year exactly today. But apparently it's very popular," she wheeled him inside.

The second they were inside, they were hit with the scents of different teas. Though every individual smell complemented each other.

But the interior was what really caught their attention.

"Whoa...I don't think I've ever seen a shop this clean looking..."

Levi liked this place already, this place was anti-dirt.

Customers were scattered across the shop, talking to each other over white tables, sitting in window seats, and girls were crowded at the counter table.

They didn't look like tea drinkers, so why were they looking so eager?

"It looks like this place is taken over by brats."

"Hello, sorry for the wait. I got the blend you wanted in your preferred amount."

Levi couldn't see who the voice belonged to over the throng of ladies as he got closer to the counter to hopefully be able to order.

"Yes, [Name], this is perfect! Thank you."

You laugh, "It's no problem. You, ladies, might want to start buying in bulk, though. Your usual order of two pouches can last about a week just between 4 people per bag. But you come here every other day ordering more."

"Yeah, we just love tea so much! And we just want to support our favorite shop owner," one leaned in.

"We should go, customer service is shitty here," Levi muttered.

"Sorry, Levi."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. But ladies, would you mind moving since you've paid already? There are customers behind you."

"Oh."

They turned to the two dryly, glaring at them before leaving the store altogether.

"Sorry about that, some of my customers can get that way! You look like you two must be new. Would you like to hear the options of tea I have? I also have pastries if you're interested."

Levi dragged his gaze back to you and he swore he stopped breathing.

Who was this beautiful man? [Name] he heard? He was suddenly much more interested.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Do you need some time to think about it?"

"No. What do you have?"

You began to rattle off all the types of tea you possessed, even some that Levi's never heard of, which you explained when noticing any confusion.

Usually, he didn't like when people talked so much...but he found he didn't mind when you did it.

Privileges of finding you pretty, he guessed.

He stealthily observed you, from your jaw to your white dress shirt to the beginning of your waist until the counter blocked the rest of the view.

After he ordered, since Gabi didn't want anything, you smiled.

"Want any sugar or honey with it?"

Levi cringed, "What kind of moron adds shit to their tea?"

You only chuckle at his language, "It actually isn't too bad if it's done right."

"Nothing belongs in tea," he glared.

You rang them up, "Three dollars–and Mr. Levi, I'm sure I could change your mind. I'm very convincing. I'm pretty good at what I do," you gestured to his cup, "Just see for yourself."

After he was settled, he took a sip and almost groaned at its taste.

He was coming back here.

And he did.

Again. And again.

Until it was a regular thing.

"Welcome back, Levi."

That smile was lethal, did you not know that?

"Hey."

At this point, it'd been months and Levi became a [Name] addict.

"Same thing?"

"Yeah."

After serving him, you prepped some tea leaves to grind.

He watched as you work, enveloping the quiet atmosphere.

"I'm so happy I have this place."

"Hm?"

"I uh...When I was a kid, things came easy. So they didn't feel rewarding...until I bought this place and grew a business from the ground up...It taught me how to work, it taught me discipline, it taught me that an easier life doesn't mean it's better," you laugh to yourself, "Sorry, I know you don't want to hear this."

"That why you opened this place? To work hard after having an easy life?" he subtly signaled he did.

You snickered, "I know that seems backward, but yeah. I know it's selfish since there are people out there who'd kill to have the easy life I had...but...I wasn't being fed, or stimulated, I had nothing to wake up for. Then I met a military police officer—a good one—and he--he worked so hard, he had a passion for what he did. I wanted that. I wanted to know what it was like to have a reason to live, to serve others. So I left an easy life behind for a life of work...but it was worth it. It's so freeing to live this way. I was never free when it was easy."

After that day, Levi realized he crushed on you, hard. He couldn't talk to you straight after that.

You leaned on an elbow behind the counter one afternoon, "Hey, Levi. You look really handsome today--not that you don't always look handsome, of course. But today seems a little different."

His cheeks flushed pink, "I-I didn't do much brat, just...changed my hair a little..."

And one evening, you got bold.

"Hey Levi, can I get your opinion as an avid tea drinker? I'd feel like you'd be a better judge than me who leans more toward alcohol."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I've been testing a new tea brew, but I need another opinion before I decide to add it to the menu or not. Can you try it for me?"

"Sure."

"It's still in my apartment upstairs, I'll take you."

"[Name], I'm in a wheelchair, I can't go up the stairs on my own."

"I know, here."

"Pu-put me down!" he flushed red.

"But you can't walk..."

"You could've just helped me up. The other leg is still fine."

"It's faster."

It became regular for you two to hang out in your apartment above the shop after closing, and one night, you kissed. Neither of you knew how it happened, but it couldn't be taken back.

And once you finally get Levi comfortable with the thought, you decide to try being a couple.

And Levi needed time to get used to the foreign type of relationship.

He had to get used to someone smiling at the sight of him.

He had to get used to someone's lips brushing against his skin.

He had to get used to someone treating him like a prince.

Someone celebrating his birthday that he didn't think was important.

He had to get used to someone remembering the little things.

Someone with an open ear to listen to the feelings he hides within his depths.

Someone saying, "I love you, Levi."

And him saying it back.

And after three years of dating, he had to get used to living with someone he was in a relationship with.

Had to get used to full, warm meals from morning to night.

Someone restoring him back to health when he's sick.

Someone soothing him from the nightmares, someone showing him how to sleep better. And waking to another warm body in a bed he shares (which he had to force, for a while you'd let him have the bed to himself in respect).

He had to get used to finding more reasons to smile, he had to get used to making someone laugh and smile with ease.

He had to get used to someone cleaning for him, someone who's very stubborn with what they allow him to clean, "I know you like to clean baby, but let me do it, let me take care of you."

He had to get used to someone cutting his hair for him.

Someone who didn't judge him for his background, no matter what.

"Levi, you're practicing your writing?" you leaned over his shoulder.

"Habit."

"There's nothing wrong with where you're from. Because without that place, you wouldn't have become the Levi I love now. So don't feel like you have to hide it or be ashamed," you kissed the curve of his neck.

He had to get used to someone being attentive to him and his habits and behaviors. Someone knowing him better than he knows himself.

He had to get used to being protected and fought for, although he still likes to feel like he can protect, too.

"Levi! Never do that again, do you know how worried I was?" you growled, running a hand through your hair, "I swear you want to make me go more insane for you than I already have...Do you not understand that I would shed blood for you if I had to? Please don't take me lightly."

He had to get used to someone reading to him, someone tucking him in.

Someone making him try new things, like sugar in his tea. He couldn't believe it.

Someone...calling him beautiful...

Someone bathing him and joining him sometimes just for the pure connection of intimacy.

Someone that didn't need to have sex with him to connect with him.

Someone that will ask him how he's feeling, and happily fill the silence when he doesn't want to divulge.

Someone who buys him whatever books he wants. Spoils him and works hard to earn back the money spent.

Someone showing their love in physically any way they could, showing what it was like to have a gentle touch.

Someone who won't let him go to bed angry.

"Please, don't leave me, [Name]!"

"What?"

"I-I'm sorry, I do need you! And—And not just because you take care of me," Levi looked up in desperation, tears welling up in his eyes, he regretted every nasty word he'd just said to you.

You look like a broken-hearted puppy, "It really hurt, Levi."

"I know...I know, I...I'm not good with this 'feelings' stuff. I don't know how to tell you things, I don't know how to show you I care about you. But I'm tired of people leaving me! And you're the only person who hasn't, I don't want to be the reason why you finally do. So please," he approaches you with shaking hands, his face burrowing into your torso as he grips the back of your shirt. "Don't leave me...Please. I love you, I love you. I'm sorry."

(But he didn't tell you the real reason he blew up at you that night...because of his own hidden thoughts...)

He had to get used to someone who cried from his tears, someone holding him tight, keeping silent about the tears he knew they felt.

He had to get used to having a reason to keep going.

He...had to get used to you...

The one he loved more than anyone.

The one he wanted for the rest of his life...

...and the last person he'd want to see at the end of it.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Hi! I really liked your Nectar of the God’s oneshot with Wesker. Could you write Wesker with a buff reader, who’s surprisingly reserved and kind of shy while in his presence?

A/n: of course, hun. And I'm happy to hear you liked 'Nectar of the Gods'. Thank you so much. This is going to be strictly SFW since you requested it anonymously, so I hope you don't mind. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): slight manipulation, buff reader, RE4 remake Wesker, SFW, anxiety, gender-neutral reader.  

No Minors Allowed!!

The second the news reaches your desk, in the form of a time-sensitive email, you are quickly moved to a new location; all the while your nerves are eating at you. It's not every day, Albert Wesker requests your help. 

As you pass your peers heading to the elevator, all eyes are on you. It isn't the first time their stares unnerve you. Honestly, you should be used to it given your buff stature, but this time is different. 

People, men and women alike treat you as if you are the most intimidating creature on the planet. Their hushed whispers are infuriating at times, but at the moment you don't care. Because you are about to be in the presence of the one man who makes you nervous as hell. 

Taking the elevator to the upper floor where you have no jurisdiction, you are taken to a dark room with several large screens. In a chair in front of them is the man in question. 

"You asked for me, sir," you state softly as you hesitantly approach Wesker. 

He motions you to his side and briefly glances at you before he averts his attention again; you aren't sure where however as he's wearing his sunglasses. It seems like every time you see him, he has them on.

"From now on you are going to be assisting me in whatever I need," he explains. 

You nod sheepishly. 

"Y-yes sir."

But why does he need your assistance? Hundreds of others can do the same job. Perhaps he can sense how nervous you are around him. You've never spoken to him the few times you've seen him, choosing to stay out of his business. Though you have to admit, he is the most gorgeous man you've ever seen. 

"Do you find me intimidating?" Wesker asks suddenly. 

"It's not my place to say," you admit.

He doesn't seem to like this answer, tightening his jaw. 

"Very well."

For the next few days, you work side by side with Wesker, patching in calls and getting him coffee whenever he needs it. You don't speak unless spoken to, which seems to please him, but sometimes it feels like he tries to unnerve you, asking personal questions about yourself. It's not relevant to the job, but he knows about your interest in working out and keeping a healthy body. 

The chats are brief, but you find that you somewhat enjoy them. It's not until the job is over do you see him in a darker light. 

Hearing a loud crash, you rush into the surveillance room which Wesker often inhabits to see one of the screens cracked; the keyboard is in pieces on the floor a few inches away and Wesker is clutching his fists in rage. 

You've never seen him mad before. His temper is usually masked with an air of superiority that at times frightens you.

Standing at the back of the room in silence, you watch him hover over the desk in front of the broken screen. Its flashing light casts an eerie yet beautiful halo around the devious man. You have no idea what warranted this. 

When he stands and fixes his disheveled hair, he seems to notice you.

"Your services are no longer required," he mentions. 

Sauntering toward the door, he pauses a moment and then glances at you again. 

"Do you take pride in your career here? Of being a dog on a leash?"

"As much as everyone else, sir," you utter.

It's a lie, but considering who Wesker is, it's best to make him believe you do. However, the grin on his face tells you that he knows the truth. Your face turns red as he approaches you. 

"Then perhaps we can work something out," he states. 

You hum. What does he mean? 

Tracing his warm fingers up your bicep, you shiver from his touch. He's gentle with you when he doesn't have to be. 

"I asked before if you found me intimidating," Wesker mentions. "And you refused to answer me."

Of course, you did. For obvious reasons. 

"It's not my–"

Wesker interrupts you with his finger, pressing it against your lips. 

"Do you…find me intimidating?"

Removing his finger, he leans forward and gives you a brief kiss that makes your body grow tense. You aren't sure what to do, so you close your eyes and press your lips against his.

Wesker parts first and hums. 

"Your innocence is intoxicating," he utters.

With a satisfied look, he saunters toward the door, but your broken voice stops him. 

"I do," you mention, regarding his question. 

"Don't," Wesker orders. "Or else working with me shortly is going to become unbearable."

Your face heats up in response. It's a terrible idea to continue working for him, whatever his plans are, but so far, your career choice hasn't been too good either, so what harm can it do? 

"Yes sir."

Wesker grins.

Is this a mistake? Only the future will tell. 

[justcallmefox89]

The Royal Romance: Cinderfella’s Adventures in Cordonia - Chapter Fourteen

An AU of The Royal Romance with a male MC and a bisexual prince.

Callum realizes he isn’t as over Liam as he thought he was.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

“Hey, darlin’.”

Liam stares at us, shock slowly fading as he composes his face into a stoic mask.  Drake attempts to slink away from me; I put a hand on his waist to hold him close, refusing to be ashamed of what we’ve done.  Liam’s jaw clenches as he stares at my hand on Drake’s body, but he remains silent, waiting for one of us to speak first.  Drake looks up at me and widens his eyes, imploring me to say something. I merely arch one eyebrow in response.  He huffs in annoyance and rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder into my chest.

What do you expect me to say in this situation?

“Liam, I -”

“I will not discuss this with an audience,” he interrupts Drake.  “I’ll find you both when I’m able to slip away from the party.”  He turns and strides away, not sparing us a backwards glance.

Drake and I tentatively step out of the elevator, glancing around to see if any of the party guests had noticed our little encounter.  “So how do you think that went?” I ask, casually flicking a piece of lint off of my suit jacket.

Drake gives me a look that could wither roses.  

“Before you respond, I want to remind you that you were moaning my name less than an hour ago.”

“I need a drink,” he mutters, veering off towards the bar.  

I obediently follow him, ignoring the curious glances from guests surreptitiously trying to figure out who I am.  We belly up to the bar and the bartender looks at us expectantly.

“Whiskey,” Drake mutters.  

“Seltzer with lime, beautiful,” I say, sliding a twenty over to him.

“This is an open bar, sir,” the bartender responds, attempting to push it back to me.

I wink at him.  “I know. Consider this a tip for your excellent service.”

Drake glares at me as the bartender flushes and hurries away to prepare our drinks.

“What?”  I innocently bat my eyelashes at him.

“Don’t you dare ‘what?’ me.”

“Wait…”  I sidle a little closer and study his expression.

“Stop!  What are you doing?”  A bright flush stains his cheeks and he puts his hands on my chest, ineffectually trying to push me away.  

“Are you jealous, Brat?”

Drake stares at the ground, refusing to meet my eye.  

“Baby,” I murmur, placing my index finger under his chin and tilting his head up so I can look into his eyes.  “Tell me the truth.  Are you jealous?”

“I -”

“Here are your drinks!” the bartender chirps brightly, placing two glass on the bar top with a smile.

Scowling, Drake snatches his glass and stomps away.  Giving the startled bartender a rushed ‘thank you’ and a final smile I hurry after him, smirking to myself.  I follow Drake to a shadowed corner of the ballroom and sip my drink as he slumps against the wall.  I study him over the rim of my glass as he slams back his whiskey, trying to get a read on his mood.

“I think that’s meant to be sipped, Brat,” I remark mildly.

“Stop talking,” he snaps.  “Just stop.”

My eyebrows meet my hairline.  “Pardon?”

“My best friend, the one person I have always been able to count on, is never going to speak with me again because I just fucked the man he loves. I just hooked up with the person I’ve been desperate for since I met them, but it probably doesn’t mean anything because tomorrow I fly home to a different country.  I just ruined a lifelong friendship over a guy I’ll probably never see again!  I just… I just can’t right now, Callum.”  

Loves?

My dirty little traitor of a heart thunders in my chest so loudly I’m sure Drake can hear it.  I shake off that errant thought and step closer to Drake, winding an arm around his waist.  He stays stiff in my embrace, rigidly staring off to the side.

“Hey,” I murmur softly.  “Look at me, please.”

Drake clenches his jaw and stubbornly refuses my request.

Saints give me strength with this boy.

“Brat.  Look at me right now,” I order, lowering my voice and injecting a bit of stern authority into my tone.

A small shudder runs through Drake, but he slowly turns and reluctantly meets my eyes.  I lean down and nuzzle my nose against his, earning a tiny smile in return.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen with Liam, but if you want me I’ll be by your side to support you every step of the way.  And I don’t know where you got this idea into your pretty little head that we’ll never see each other after this,” I pause and press a soft kiss to his forehead.  “If you want to see me again all you ever have to do is ask.”

“But - ”

I silence Drake with a quick kiss.  “I’m not afraid of a little plane ride if it means I get to see my Brat.”

He peeks up at me through his lashes, the corners of his lips tipping up into a tentative smile.  

“Hey… there’s that smile I love but very rarely get to see,” I gently tease him.

The sound of a throat roughly clearing sounds from behind us, and Drake and I turn to see Liam coolly watching us.  His gaze rests on my arm around Drake���s waist and I notice a muscle in his jaw tick in anger.  His eyes snap up to meet mine and I placidly stare back at him, silently daring him to say something.

Start a fight.  Make a scene. Risk damaging your precious reputation. Do anything to show me that you care.

“Please come with me so we can discuss this situation and be done with it,” Liam says icily, motioning for us to follow him.  

Drake and I trail behind him, stepping into the elevator and waiting quietly as Liam hits the button to take us to the roof top.  The three of us file out of the elevator and into the privacy of the secluded rooftop cabana.

Liam suddenly turns to face us, chest heaving rapidly as an angry flush creeps over his cheeks.  “What the fuck do you two think you’re doing?”

[pierceintyre-hunnihawk]

Last Kiss

BJ had decided to drive off to work that morning. I made him his lunch, and kissed him “goodbye” as he left. I had a bad feeling, but chose to ignore it. That’s when everything went wrong.

He didn’t come home when he normally did. I though that there was just really bad traffic, so I waited.

I waited over an hour for BJ to come home. Just then, I got a knock on my door.

“Excuse me, sir, but are you doctor Benjamin Pierce?”

“Yes. Why?” I was starting to get scared.

“Your buddy, BJ Hunnicutt, was in a car accident and is currently in the hospital. You may want to come with us.”

I put my boots on, and let the officer drive me there. Naturally, I hate the system, but this is my best friend. I’d be lost without him.

We arrived at the hospital, I told the nurse my name, and she let me know where he was, and how bad of a shape he was in.

“BJ?”

“H-Hawkeye?”

“It’s me, Beej.” I forced myself to blink back the tears. I felt so bad having to see what state he was in.

“Hawkeye, I’m alive.”

I felt a tear fall, and he wiped my tears away. He kissed me quick. I knew he wouldn’t be around for much longer.

“I know, BJ.” I held onto his hand, and pulled up a chair.

“Are you okay, Hawk?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I had to lie.

“Okay. The nurses say that I’ll be okay.”

I heard that lie before. Over in Korea, we told our nurses to give our patients false hope in order to make them more comfortable. I couldn’t stand to see my best friend in this state.

A nurse called out to me from in the hall.

“Dr. Pierce?”

“Yes?”

“A word, please?”

I followed the nurse out of the room.

“Everything okay?”

“We just got his x-rays back, and it’s not looking too good. You’re his only emergency contact, and you’re listed in the paperwork as a trusted source, so I’ll let you have a look.”

I saw everything that was wrong. I knew he wasn’t going to pull through. She tried to make it seem less harsh that it was, but I knew the truth.

I stayed by BJ’s side all night, just hoping that he’d make it through the night. Unfortunately, at five minutes passed midnight, his heart monitor started beeping like crazy. The nurses came in, but it was too late. They left me alone with what was left of BJ, and I cried my eyes out.

“Oh BJ, I’m going to miss you. I-I never told you how much you truly meant to me, and I really should’ve. Maybe you wouldn’t be gone. What am I supposed to do without you? I-I can’t live knowing that you’re not here anymore.” I cried harder now. I kissed the top of his head and walked out of the hospital room, and headed back home. I decided to walk, and just let everything sink in.

I arrived home, closed the door, and slipped onto the floor. I held my knees to my chest, and cried. I couldn’t stop crying. I lost my best friend. The only man that I could truly love and trust. He’s gone now. What’s worse is the fact that I’m alone again. The house will be quieter, and I won’t be able to make meals for two.

I called everyone that was important to us, and told them what happened. I decided to ask father Mulcahy if he would like to do BJ’s service. He agreed.

A few weeks had gone by, and it was now time for BJ’s funeral. I was the first to arrive, and had some time alone with his casket.

“Beej? It’s me, Hawkeye. I know you probably can’t hear me, but I miss you. I miss you so much. The house has been so quiet since you’ve been gone, and I can’t live with the silence anymore. Oh god, I miss you. I’m going to miss you so much.”

I cried again, but when I heard a door open, I wiped away my tears.

“Hawkeye, it’s just me.”

Of course, father Mulcahy would be the one to see me like this.

“I’m sorry, my son.”

“I-it’s okay, father.”

“You’ve been crying. Want to talk about it?”

“I miss him. I waited for an hour for him to come home, I stayed with him at the hospital. I-I was the one in the room with him when he died…oh god…”

Father Mulcahy pulled me into a hug, and just let me cry. I didn’t want to let go.

“I’m so sorry, Hawkeye.”

“I-I know, father. Thank you.”

“Of course, my son.”

I decided to have a seat as I waited for the rest of the guests to arrive.

Everyone arrived five minutes apart from each other. I said my “hello’s” to everyone, and received many condolences. When it came time to the service, no one’s eyes were dry.

I helped Klinger, Radar, Colonel Potter, Charles, and Sidney carry BJ’s casket.

Everyone but Sidney and Mulcahy left.

I was given time to say my final “goodbye” to BJ alone, but Sidney and Mulcahy did want to talk to me afterwards.

“Hey Beej, I forgot to bring flowers, but I did bring you some of your favorite candies.” I set them on his grave, and traced his name with my finger. I hugged his tombstone, and cried.

“I’ll never be able to hug or kiss you again. I-I can’t come home to you laughing about whatever you were watching, or hear you hum whenever something tastes good, or hear you appreciate everything that the world gave you. I-I have to go back to being alone. And that’s the worst feeling in the world.” I cried harder again, and pulled away slowly.

“I was never able to tell you how much I truly loved and appreciated you. You made the world a lot brighter, and happier. I can’t go back to seeing how unforgiving this place is after you showed me all the good things.” I started sobbing harder. I couldn’t stop myself.

I left his grave, but before I could truly leave, I looked up at the skies and said, “Tommy? Henry? Please do me this one favor and watch over BJ for me, please. Take good care of him, too, now. He would’ve done the same for me.”

After I felt as though I said everything that I needed to, I met up with father Mulcahy and Sidney.

“Hawkeye, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”

I thanked father Mulcahy as he hugged me and walked away.

Sidney sat me down, and decided to talk to me about survivor’s guilt, and other things. I listened intensely.

Sidney gave me a handful of tissues, and told me to “let everything out.” I did as I was instructed to.

“Hawkeye, I can’t help but get a sense that you loved BJ more than ‘just friends’.”

“You’d be correct. We couldn’t tell anyone over in Korea, so we kept it hidden. I miss him, Sidney.”

“I know, Hawkeye. He misses you too.”

We scheduled a couple of therapy sessions for the week, and parted ways. I walked home, and it started to rain.

As I walked inside my house, it didn’t feel like a home anymore.

I decided to just go to bed and deal with everything later.

I had a dream that BJ was in a field of flowers, waiting for me to join him. They were all different shades of pinks and yellows, and he looked so happy.

Hours passed, and I awoke to an empty bed. I noticed BJ’s clothes still in the closet, and I closed his side of the closet. I couldn’t bear to look at them.

I made myself something to eat, and went back to my room. I didn’t want to be around BJ’s things.

This was going to take some getting used to, and I know that I’m just going to hate it.

After I finished eating, I decided to go back to sleep again. There wasn’t any reason to really be awake anymore. I didn’t want to bother my dad, so I just decided that this was the best option. I lost count as to how many times I fell in and out of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I could hear his laugh. It was always so warm and inviting. I have to get used to this. It’s always hard to start again, but I have to do for BJ. It’s what he would’ve wanted.

[umbrellamedic]

Watching the Operation Raccoon City trailer again and...

"No time for samples, Four Eyes!" she could have gotten it from anywhere, Four Eyes chooses THE MOUTH

Four Eyes not even phased about the rest of the team running past hunting cops

Spec Ops hearing gunfire and their first stupid fucking thought "Civvies :)" Like, what??

...ok, killing the Licker with nothing but a knife actually is talent. Not bad, Spec Ops. Not bad. And the 'all clear' after; you don't know that, you have checked one hallway.

Lickers are best boys I love them. <3

Beltway is from Puerto Rico according to his bio. He sounds... Bostonian?? Or something, idk, accents aren't something I'm great with BUT. he sounds like he's from the North East somewhere.

Also I love how he sets up the mine and is just so fucking happy like "Boooom :)" What a lad.

Spectre... maybe... be good at shit.... be better?

The cop looking back at his friend, distracted, GETS BLOWN UP

BERTHA JUST RUNNING FROM THE SIDE WITH HER FUCKING MACHETE. YOU HAVE A GUN. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS.

But also damn that was some FORCE you put into that swing. The ready to swing again, realizing the machete is STUCK in the car, having to push with her foot to get it out. Love it.

Vector vaults over the rail to jump down into the garage

Lupo vaults over the rail to jump down into the garage

Bertha takes the stairs.

Vector's voice. Yes. Thank you. Purr growl into my ear sir. ^///^

Lupo growling at him. Yes. Thank you. See above statement. ^///^

The closest zombie, then the screen goes dark, then the gunshots light it back up. A very quick moment, but amazing.

Team dealing with a swarm of zombies; IMMEDIATELY FUCK OFF FROM THAT TO CHASE A COP. Very goal oriented. Icons. Love to see it.

Spec Ops hearing gunshots. See the cop running FOR HIS LIFE. just "maybe not civvies??? not sure??" literally Vector has to stealth over and make threats for them to be like "oooooooh. maybe this is dangerous :)" Special babies. Please. PLEASE.

If I ever make another side blog for the Spec Ops team I want you all to know they will all be himbos. ALL OF THEM. Bitch I didn't stutter. Himbo energy for all these spec ops bbies. Sweet summer children. I have no respect. I am v biased.

"Guys. We got a liiiive one." -offended in Texan by this accent- Actually she might be from, like Tennessee or some shit. again, accents aren't my thing. i stand by my statement.

Beltway and Spectre coming in from the other side; literally i've seen this video a billion times and i have never noticed that before. i live in shame.

"This is a quarentine zone!" Sweet bby. PLEASE. why is your first instinct seeing the most maladjusted cunts Umbrella could throw together for what I'm pretty sure Umbrella thought was gonna be a suicide mission or some shit (i am convinced Umbrella spent the entire time hoping they all got fucking dead) who are all HEAVILY ARMED AND CLEARLY CHASING DOWN A MAN RUNNING FOR HIS LIFE IN THE MIDDLE OF A ZOMBIE INFESTED CITY and you're first thought is "i will approach and yell and nothing will go wrong :)" Himbo energy.

Vector. My heart. My life. Thank you for your service. LOUDLY makes a gun sound, starts talking just before he uncloaks. my boy appreciates DRAMA

special bby boy just looks annoyed like 'how DARE they do this to me, a man who has made no bad choices ever'

Also that hair. i appreciate it. none of the Umbrella boys are allowed to show hair and it's not fair.

LUPO JUST LOOKS AT THE COP AND FUCKING SHOOTS HIM. no words for the spec ops people. they aren't a concern until AFTER she completes the mission

just IMAGINE being that cop. you're running from these assholes, you've been shot, your friend was blown up, any others that were with you before this video starts are fucking dead. and you fucking FALL and it's like "i'm gonna die"

then you see spec ops and their resident himbo #1 making demands or whatever. and you're full on cop-brained so you're like "military good. am safe :)" so you're kneeling there expecting some kind of discussion to happen, maybe some hostage things

you never see the shot coming. imagine the relief followed by FUCKING NOTHING because Lupo isn't dignifying the spec ops himbos with discussion.

Vector just KNOWING this means it is go time. Shoots just after Lupo does

WE FINALLY SEE HOW HIMBO #1 HAS LIVED SO LONG. he isn't smart, but damn can he spider sense react. he's read the room- he did it late, but he got there.

Vector's kicks. 100% kick boy. Dem legs. Bet his thighs are great. Love to see it. King shit.

Lupo just calmly "Kill them all" and the team just raise weapons and shoot in unison.

i know they say Delta team is new, but there is NO WAY these people haven't worked together before this mission.

Bertha standing next to Beltway. Listen. I hc a lot of things for this team, but her and Beltway i have MANY FEELINGS about

I was gonna crack shit about Bertha wearing obviously fetish wear while everyone else has normal fabrics Vector's stealth stuff notwithstanding but that's still not the same shit as Bertha but tbh? She's the medic. This is designed for blood and shit to, like, slide off. But also it's like that scene in Repo: The Genetic Opera where the Repoman takes off his uniform and hoses it off. I imagine Umbrella medics do this as well. Or, at least, Bertha does it. Post-mission or post-torture session, she just hangs her outermost layers and fucking hoses them off. It's efficient. Practical. And she likes the look and feel of it. A true sicko. Wonderful.

"Who the Hell are these guys?!" "Let me ask them!" minigun. I like her. Spec Ops has one (1) person i might actually give a shit about.

Vector's stealth ending because he's taking damage from the minigun. I love it.

Side note: all scene, NO ONE CAN HIT SHIT. like, a couple times people will get a single bullet and it won't really matter. just in general. it would be a worse scene if there were people getting dropped, but it does make me laugh that it's two elite teams and literally no one can aim for shit.

speaking of a single hit. Beltway taking a shot to the shoulder, RESPONDS WITH A GRENADE. classic king behavior. his character is shown very strong in this. he's just SO CHARACTER. "Sonova. Bitch. Right back atcha."

lajfl;jads THE GAS PRICE IS $1.15. ok. for '98 i wasn't driving. and i'm pretty sure gas prices here tend to be pretty good compared to other places. but when i started driving in- fuuuuuck- '05 or so, that was gas prices. It was about that. i look at this sign and weep because it sure as shit ain't that cheap now. i need an electric but idk if that will save me money or where i would charge it or anything. this had nothing to do with the game.

Himbo #1 hearing a sound, getting down to look under the car, and just "shit" then RUNNING is such a good bit. the way the explosion FUCKS with the audio. chef's kiss.

that car looks like an Impala i inherited once; it was a '99 Impala. i'm not a car person but that's what i'm reminded of.

ZOMBIE MEAT SHIELD ZOMBIE MEAT SHIELD ZOMBIE MEATSHIELD. one of my favorite things in pvp and in general. it's just. idk, it makes sense to do. more zombie shooting games should have this.

"We need to flank these guys! Now!" And Four Eyes was like 'lawl, guess what :)' It doesn't show who threw the pheromones, but we all know

This zombie thing. is a new problem for the spec ops. I can see Umbrella having pheromones. That makes perfect sense, they need a way to direct the infected. but the spec ops guy just seeing that and KNOWING is like ??? idk. i guess it would be the logical guess when mystery smoke happens and you notice zombies coming for your ass, but he knows it .02 seconds after that shit goes off. x to doubt

Spec Ops at this point is more about killing zombies- fair, because of the pheromones- and Umbrella going STRAIGHT FOR THE TARGETS ignoring the zombies. this gives me life. this is their tactics.

I don't really understand Lupo's mask and it's three straps below her ear but whatever.

While we're on masks, i don't know how Bertha, Beltway, or Vector see with the lights in the eyes of their masks. But whatever

"We got a T103 Tyrant approaching" and then the debris blockade scene. It's jostled once. Twice. Tyrant realized that whatever he was doing wasn't working. THROWS A FUCKING CAR. this is a recurring theme for him. but it does solve more problems than it causes.

Lupo almost getting crushed by the gas sign. Picks herself up. that little headshake. then she sees the Tyrant. then the Tyrant sees her. "Holy shit!" This is Umbrella property, but she KNOWS that shit is gonna kill her and she's going to survive. Too bad shooting at it did not helpu.

Himbo #1 dealing with a zombie, slams it on the hood of a car. LUPO THROWN INTO THE DOOR OF THE CAR. Himbo #1 just ??? you know he's not Umbrella because he doesn't straight murder her. he starts shooting at the Tyrant. maybe he doesn't know if she's dead or not. if the roles were reversed, Lupo would take that shot- practical. just a quick pop to the spec ops guy, then shoot the Tyrant.

MEDIC FIGHT, MEDIC FIGHT, MEDIC FIGHT. it does demonstrate Bertha can take a fucking hit. and that her way of using her machete is to swing wildly. she doesn't have the finesse for a knife, she wants something big she can flail with and do damage. she can be delicate with a scalpel on an operating table, not in battle. about the taking a hit thing, the spec ops medic seems to be better at cqc than Bertha. she gets a kick in, but how he redirects her swing with his gun, hits her with the gun, slams her into the truck (both blows to her face) and Bertha doesn't even PAUSE. just full on attack mode

Beltway turning the zombie into a bomb. It's charming when Beltway does it, BUT WHEN NIKOLAI DOES THAT SHIT >:[

once again Himbo #1 has a moment of "...shit" and once again Tyrant's problem solving technique is to throw a car.

And of course the RESIDENT EVIL voice line. Beautiful.

[rosesandalfazemas]

The Words of Love (UkArg - english ver.)

So I tried it again! Sorry for the mistakes ;A; hope you like it anyway!

1980

The rain fell incessantly on the street and a blond young man ran without air in his lungs. He was full of conflicting emotions; the heart of light within his chest would turn to stone at any moment, or it’ll finish melting between his ivory bones.

He reached the restaurant with pitiful steps, wet and devoid of any protocol. In front of him, tea in between, another man with curly hair and a strange look looked at him with scientific interest. He had no idea what the hell he was doing there, less, who the disheveled and nervous man in front of him was.

"It's nice to meet you," the green-eyed man declared, recomposed, although his heart shaking violently inside his body.

"May I ask what is the reason I was summoned to this place?"

"I've been looking for you for several months, until I was connected to you," the other replied with absolute seriousness, sitting up and shaking the moisture from his thinning hair. “My request is simple: I want you to breed a Red Special for me”. he ordered without moving a single muscle in his face, as if he was asking for the newspaper.

The man was stunned. A grin of a laugh that never came out was the next move; but he had a feeling that he shouldn't make fun of that young man.

"...and why should I do such a thing?" The request seemed not only preposterous, but also insolent. Red Special was unique, and if the best luthiers had not managed to obtain that privilege, much less would a young man who could not even observe the etiquette correctly.

The embarrassment on his face struck the Empire as somewhat endearing.

>>I refuse. I don't know your identity, dear, but I don't need money or more fame. Red is precious to me, an heirloom my father forged with his own hands, and I will give her secrets to no one.” Arthur listened to him with respect, appreciating his resistance... despite on considering it futile.

"First of all, let's have this cup of tea, Sir " he suggested. “I know that when we say goodbye to each other, you will no longer think that I am a brat child with money. I have good intentions, but I specifically need you to do it, since you have a gift that I need in these times.” Then he held out his hand with a confident smile. “My name is Lord Arthur Kirkland.” It turned out to be quite an instructive and satisfying encounter, in England's opinion. When they parted, his human child seemed confused and excited in equal parts, like any Englishman in his place. Although the British considered himself another subject of the Queen and, therefore, unable to rival her Majestic Presence, his existence managed to stun human beings in much the same way. Especially when he made them understand, in some way, that they were specially chosen to be Awakened and interact with their Fatherland, directly. For this reason, and after hearing the motivations for having a replica of Red, the man could not help but say that he would take such a proposal into consideration. 1981. Winter was about to end. Arthur looked with satisfaction at the plans for the electric guitar, at last in his gentleman's hands. His interlocutor, after having complied with that curious mandate, felt that he should express his frustration, arms crossed.

“I don't agree with what you're doing.” He told, with the ease of someone who believes he is claiming something fair.

“It is a state policy.” Arthur defended himself.

“Perhaps, my lord, but it is something you cannot do anything about.” the other asserted, absolutely convinced.

 “We will see. Thank you for your services to the Crown, May.”

Upon dismissing him, he remained alone once more and looked at the wall.

Among his precious photographs, Arthur Kirkland allowed himself to reflect on the words of that musician, his anger under the admiration and curiosity. There is something about Latinos that makes the English feel a deep attraction for them, whether for better or for worse. Perhaps many British people never saw a Brazilian or a Mexican up close in their lives, but that did not mean that if it happened, they would love them immediately. Something they had ... "If we take it into account, they were never far from me for a long time." Unlike his other colonies, they still cared for him. Except, of course, for Argentina. If Martin could, he would kill him without a moment's hesitation. “It's not much I can complain about, I was a perfect criminal every time. And things haven't changed much, I might add." Among the official and some personal portraits, a large number of paintings made by hand by artists of all times were grouped there. Of course, no one mentioned them because Arthur had kept them decades ago in a secret room in his private home, which Francis had had set up with the Louvre's preservation features, so that his cherished memories would not be damaged.

Protected from the prying eyes of the other Nations, their favorite belongings were kept; life-size canvases and small charcoal drawings in oblong frames, some so old he couldn't recall who made them or how he allowed them to be made. Among those effigies he owned one that included the young Río de la Plata, in times when the Empire was still welcome in that precious piece of land and used to hold the title of godfather. He wished that bond had never been broken; he wished one day his relationship would be as cordial as the one he had with Chile... He wished Don't touch me now...

Don't hold me now... Don't break the spell darling

Now you are near...

Look in my eyes and speak to me...

--0--

Hernández looked upset. How could Chile be so insolent, showing up at his house like nothing happened? He was also an enemy now! And though he was staring at the record player with the desire to see it explode, the song continued, unfazed by his emotions.

The special promises I long to hear... Due to his policy of suppressing everything that smacked of English from his life, Martín was still unaware of the existence of that particular song. The Chilean, more linked to Arthur, had had the scoop and did not hesitate to take it to his brother, even at the risk of receiving a bullet in the forehead for such audacity.

"Why do you come and bring me this?"

“Because you must listen to “ the young dark-haired man, in his gray uniform and his strictly military cut, looked at him with an expression of obvious frustration; as if the question was completely out of place. Las palabras de amor… Why did the blonde feel his chest tight like that? Let me hear the words of love… It wasn't right. It was just a song; And you can't erase history with a simple game of notes and melodies, right? The words were treacherous, he hadn't forgotten that he had once told him that he would never hurt him; and now all they had to do was look at how things had turned out, locked in this long and terrible fight for little Victoria. Despacito mi amor… A fight that Arthur, cunning vermin, was winning. Love me slowly and gently. From across the ocean another voice rose, calling to Martin's heart in the distance.

" One foolish world, so many souls… " The glow of red wood washed over the corner of his eyes, and Arthur knew that Argentina was hearing it for the first time in many years.

Love overcomes all difficulties... right? That musician was absolutely right: If the people were not united, a war like that would be completely sterile, a terribly bitter victory. On the palate of England it already tasted like that, and although he wanted to retrace his steps, it was too much, too late. Senselessly hurled through. If only you would stop once and for all... Don't you think enough pain has already happened? Martín passed his hands over his lips, where those dark scars, parts of a face sewn with fisherman's thread, had almost begun to disappear. Hopefully, in time, no one would see them again; softened by time and things like those caresses in the distance.

This never ending cold… It's late unfortunately, godson. My government needs the unity of its people against someone else. At the beginning I also agreed, because I needed something from you, even if it was your anger... but now I have regretted it.

And all for fear, and all for greed. What I feel doesn't matter anymore, you know? And so it destroys me little by little. Speak any tongue, but, for God's sake we need…

Las palabras de amor... The music stunned Argentina. The words hurt in the memory of the sweet and dedicated godfather that invaded him like poison; smiling at him with that joy that now seemed absolutely false. What need did he have to break that placid connection? Martín wished for long, dark years not to think that this man was and would forever be a pirate, a random thief taking possession of Alcorta and his own heart just to… What? Get power? A strategic location from which to continue his eternal quest to expand his domains? Because that is what Argentina was reduced to in the eyes of its godfather; that was Malvinas, with her clear eyes and the anguish in her soul at being torn from her true home... Territory. More power. More control. Let me hear the words of love. And now... You apologize with a song? Do you revive the memory and come to hit me again with the intention of moving me with something like this ? You are a true son of a bitch if you dare so much.

Despacito mi amor... And you're a moron if you think that this is enough for me to forgive you, or to love you again. For a second the blonde thought of breaking that machine so as not to continue listening, but his fist was suspended in the air halfway, completely devoid of strength.

Let me know this night and evermore He simply was no longer able to fight against someone or something else. How much exhaustion in his body! Why do you do this to me? Because I don't want to end like this. With due respect, Arthur put his finger between his fingers and held Red Special, leash around his neck, to perform that part of the solo that he liked so much. The guitar sounds melancholic and full of longing; a heart looking for the other, without finding it. Argentina listened to those notes with a tense chest. He clenched his teeth, filled with hatred for that liar who broke his heart by taking his beloved sister from him. His world turned gray without Victoria's soft, graceful figure; without the gray pupils, without the brief but intense smile... He is cold, dead in life. On the other side of the door, Chile grabbed the handle with a trembling hand, controlling his heart so as not to intervene in the face of Argentina's suffering. "No. There are things you must listen to, there are things you must understand no matter how much it hurts.”in his gray uniform, the body has turned to stone again. "I'm not going to help you." Suddenly, Hernandez's white skin prickled; he suddenly felt the presence of Arthur Kirkland, beyond the words of that song; of the absurd apology to cover so much pain. Worn out, he rested his hands on the desk, leaning forward, green eyes fixed on the wood of his desk, breathless.

This room is bare, this night is cold... No, it must not be real. That 's not the voice of Freddie Mercury. Lips always cracked by the cold let words escape...

We're far apart and I'm growing old... You will never forgive me, darling , I know that; resentment is something that in your soul usually lasts. However... But while we live, we'll meet again I'm not going to give up. The soft notes were detailed on the strings, while Arthur closed his eyes and let himself be heard again; he knew that Martin was paying attention to him at that precise moment.

 — So then my love, we may whisper once more... — the voice caresses and calls, apologizes and proclaims the emotion that drives Argentina crazy, beyond the sea. Enough!

It's you I adore.

With a quick gesture Hernández took the record player, smashing it against a wall. He couldn't control it; feeling Arthur's voice against his skin filled him with rage and the desire to hug him so he wouldn't let go. It was the enemy, a thief; the only one who had tried to take even his breath away from him since he first saw him, in Antonio's arms when he barely knew how to walk. Why so much desire? America is a huge continent.

Why him ?!

He sat on the floor against the cabinet, dragged there with tears in his eyes. Meanwhile, Chile took a deep breath not to enter, hug Argentina and tell him that he never agreed to support England; he would not allow it to be known that he did all this against him will to save her own children. Thinking that, he let the hard soles of his boots sink into the hallway rug, muffling his footsteps as he left.

Las palabras de amor

The guitar did not stop playing on the distant island; Nor did Kirkland stop singing.

— Let me hear the words of love...

Martin felt his enormous immortal soul break in two; as if coming out again after that fateful confinement wasn't punishment enough.

Despacito mi amor

I will not let you go, no matter what you do or say, Argentina.

Touch me now...

I know you love me, that this war hurts you. I will stop it for you and we will enjoy the afternoons with strawberries, the wind in your ocean...

Las palabras de amor

I will be able to hug you and make you feel this that is drowning me with insane obsessions...

Let us share the words of love

Good or bad, Martin, healthy or sick, it doesn't matter how much he fights to stop it or trivialize it...

For evermore... evermore

It exists and I can't deny it anymore.

Forevermore.

I love you.

[all-about-life-till8]

Hi All,

Today's blog is about a show "Mukhbir: The Story of a Spy" which is on Zee5. The show is brilliant, you can go and check for the IMDB ratings 9.2

The story is definitely about an Indian spy who is deported to Pakistan for some intelligence to stop the war when Laal Bahadur Shastri ji was our PM. The story has immense emotion and patriotism. Sometimes, it will make you realize do we really do anything for our nation? To answer to my own created question firstly, yes can do. Every citizen of India need not be at the borders to fight a war. We all can contribute for the betterment of our nation being a responsible citizen and contributing to the society by either paying our taxes correctly, being an Entrepreneur or anything which can bring in a better change.

To comeback to the original topic of this blog, after watching it I realized our country INDIA is great because of its people and its emotion towards our friends, family and culture. We are so very grounded and we stick around with our close ones and relate so much to them that we can do anything for them no matter what. In the series, their was a character named "Alam Gir" who was a spy again sent as a handler of the main character in the story. He was actually a cop but had taken a bribe during his tenure. His grandfather (Dadaji) was a reputed cop himself, hearing about his deeds Dadaji decides to let go off him from the family and did not accept him anymore. To prove that he has changed "Alam Gir" somehow lands up as a spy and servers our nation and finally he has to give up his life to do so (***Spoiler Alert***).

The purpose of saying all this is- can you feel the Indian emotion here. To prove to his grandfather that he had understood his mistakes and wanted to rightfully serve the country, he gave up his life and did not even think twice. We all Indians have this emotion and that is why we relate so much to each other even though our dialects and language change every 40kms within the country.

There are so many of our Indian soldiers, be at the frontline or at the desk or some unknown ones about whom we might never know, this post is a small tribute and respect to them. I, being the citizen of India, on behalf of everyone thank you all from the core of our hearts for your service.

Thank you Sir/Ma'am. Jai Hind!

[sims4royalsandimperials]

1456 Garland Drive, Northern Brindlen Lakes, Newcrest, 7:14pm -

TW: Kidnapping, Use of a firearm, and blood

*Prime Minister Anderssen is planning another monthly meeting at the palace with one of the Emperor’s spokespeople through video chat*

PM Anderssen: Yes. We’ll discuss the trip and perhaps any leads to Princess Susanna possibly residing in the provinces. I understand the visit is going well so far? Spokesperson: Yes, sir. His Majesty gave a speech at Camp Hauoli and he and the Empress will be heading to Norvan, D.E. tomorrow to finish off the visit. PM Anderssen: Very good. Ingeborg and I will greet him at the airport on Friday then, and then we’ll head back to the...

*A loud scream is heard throughout the house*

Spokesperson: Mr. Prime Minister, is everything okay? PM Anderssen: I’ll get back to you later. *Hangs up call* PM Anderssen: Astrid? Everything okay?! *No response* PM Anderssen: Triddy? Honey, what’s going on?!

*PM Anderssen walks downstairs to find that Astrid, his 18-year-old daughter, is being held hostage by an intruder*

???: Hands up, Anderssen... or your daughter gets it! PM Anderssen: Kelley! Please, put the gun down, and let my daughter go.

Agent Jacob Kelley: Ay, fuck you! You and the Imperial Family put a lot of pressure on me to reveal Giacono’s deception! You’re the cause of it, so, you’re going to die! Astrid: Please, don’t shoot my dad! He didn’t do anything to you! Agent Kelley: Shut up! Here’s what’s gonna happen, Anderssen. I’m taking your daughter... and you’ll never hear from her again.

PM Anderssen: Look, Agent Kelley. Just put the gun down, let go of my daughter, and we can discuss this. Please.

Agent Kelley: There’s nothing more to talk about. You asked too many questions, Anderssen. Now, it’s time to repay your meddling with bullets. Astrid: Daddy, run!

Agent Kelley: Hejdå, Anderssen! Astrid: DAD!! *BANG* ________________________________________________________________

Fifteen Minutes Later

*PM Anderssen’s wife, Ingeborg, and their three other children, have just come home from the amusement park, but little do they know of the nightmare they are about to walk into*

Ingeborg: Did you guys have fun, today? Desiree: Carousel fun! Ingeborg: Yes, it was fun. Hubertus: Thanks for taking us, Mom. Ingeborg: Thank your father. He’s the one who bought the tickets. *The family walks in to find a horrifying scene, Lars on the ground, having been shot*

Ingeborg: *gasps* LARS!! Hubertus: Mom, what happened to Dad?! Ingeborg: *voice trembling* Hubie, why don’t you take your sisters and go upstairs, okay? Hubertus: O-okay, Mom. Come on. Ingeborg: Oh my watcher. Lars, hang on, I’m gonna call for an ambulance.

*Ingeborg pulls her phone out and dials the emergency number* Dispatcher: Newcrest Emergency Services, may I get your address, please? Ingeborg: Hello? We need an ambulance to 1456 Garland Drive. Dispatcher: What is the nature of your emergency, Ma’am? Ingeborg: My husband’s been shot! Please for the love of the Watcher, we need an ambulance now, he’s bleeding out fast! Dispatcher: Okay...okay! What’s your husband’s name, ma’am? Ingeborg: Lars Anderssen... he’s the Prime Minister, for Watcher’s sake! Dispatcher: Okay, Mrs. Anderssen. Stay on the line with me until the ambulance arrives at your house. One is on their way now. Ingeborg: Okay... okay.