#there's a chance some of this i might have mentioned on my last blog? but i've honestly had chiyo for so long that i can't remember

[tvrningout-a]

have some little chiyo headcanons bc it's about that time of day where i think about how much i love her <3

if you live with chiyo, sleep over, etc., you'll discover she wears glasses. she doesn't typically wear them out and about bc she's never been able to say she 100% loves how she looks in them, and tbh, the frames slip down her nose annoyingly often. she gets a little embarrassed when someone sees her with glasses for the first time

chiyo is big on coffee despite knowing very well that it makes her anxious when she has more than one cup :' ) she's tried to switch to tea, and it's tasty! but it's just not the same

chiyo, especially as an adult, will be awake into the early hours of the morning whether it's bc she's working or bc she let herself get sucked into a series, a game, etc. she'll have little time periods where she's good about going to bed at a decent hour, but it always ends with her going back to being a night owl.

on days when chiyo can't sleep in, she will absolutely find a secluded spot to take a nap. if there's an empty room or a hidden spot somewhere, you'll find her there snoozin' away for an hour!

chiyo enjoys making late-night runs to her local convenience store for snacks bc there's something special about the quiet independence of it, getting to do something all on her own without anyone advising against it. it hasn't lost its luster even after living on her own for a while.

when doing any sort of cleaning, chiyo blasts music and sings along to keep herself motivated asdf you'll hear a lot of pop and anime openings/endings -- anything upbeat that she can mostly hold a tune to!

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[theskit]

Stickers AU

Important!!!

Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Part 9

《Prev Next》

Danny wasn't sure what he'd expected when he put Bludhaven into his phone's GPS Sunday evening, but finding out it was only 30 minutes away was still surprising. He'd somehow thought it was farther away than that.

Shrugging it off, Danny found an out of the way alley to go invisible and intangible for the short flight. He'd already picked out which of his stickers he would be gracing Nightwing with tonight, now the only thing would be finding him.

Taking a rather scenic route along the coast, Danny got some interesting pictures of the rocky coastline and the water. The light pollution was still pretty bad, but it was a little easier to see the stars outside the city limits.

Reaching Bludhaven, Danny flew around randomly for a while before hearing a shout. Going to investigate he saw three guys cornering a young lady in an alley. Just as he moved to intervene, Nightwing dropped down from above, landing between the men and the lady.

"Mind if I cut in?" He asked as he hit the closest guy with an escrima stick, sending him to the ground with a crackle of electricity as the lady turned and ran. "It's just shocking how quickly I can go through dance partners, sometimes."

Turning to the other two, Nightwing fluidly exchanged punches before grabbing one guy's arm and throwing him over his shoulder into a nearby trashcan, "Sorry, you've been canned for inappropriate behavior," he quipped cheerfully.

The last guy took the chance while Nightwing was busy to pull out a knife. Smoothly dodging the first few swipes, Nightwing flipped over the guy when he overextended himself with a lunge, landing with a crouch and a leg sweep, taking him to the ground too. "Let's not get swept away in all the excitement, now!" He tossed out as he made sure all three guys were secure before calling it in to the police for pickup.

Danny practically sparkled with glee. The cool entrance! The flashy moves! The puns! He just might have a new favorite hero! Well. After Robin, of course. Teen hero solidarity and all that.

Danny landed, waiting to make sure the escrima sticks were put away before approaching Nightwing. He *definitely* didn't want to get hit with those things. Getting electrocuted was *not* on the to-do list this evening, thank you!

Coming up behind Nightwing, just as he finished contacting the police Danny smacked a sticker to the small of his back, yelled "Tag!" and took off running.

It was only after hearing Nightwing shout in surprise and then call out after him, beginning to give chase, that Danny realized he had dropped his invisibility. Whoops. At least he was in his hoodie. It was still a little bloodstained from yesterday, but it wasn't really *that* noticeable. Neither of his parents had mentioned it, and Jazz only gave him a small, searching look before he held up his bandanged finger to show her it was no big deal. It was also the only hoodie he'd remembered to pack.

Nightwing ran after the surprisingly quick child, teenager? they were kind of short... "Hey, kid! Hold up a second!"

The kid laughed, "No can do! Sorry, Nightwing! I needed one last number for my vigilante bingo card and you were it!"

The kid, a boy going by the voice, was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a slightly oversized hoodie with what looked concerningly like bloodstains at the side. He took a quick left into another alley, one Nightwing knew to be a dead end. Turning the corner as well, Nightwing slid to a stop, glancing around the empty alley. "Kid? Hey, it's ok, I just wanna talk." He called out, doing a quick check behind the dumpster, which was the only thing large enough in the alley to hide behind.

Nothing. Scratching his head, Nightwing looked around again in confusion. There wasn't even a fire escape down this way. Where did he go? And what did he mean by vigilante bingo?

Deciding to check in with the others, he called Tim, unsurprised when he heard the rapid-fire clack of a keyboard in the background when he answered. "Hey, Dick, what's up?"

"Hey, Baby Bird! So, I just had an interesting run-in with a disappearing kid. He mentioned something about vigilante bingo, and I wondered if any of you had as well?"

The keyboard noises stopped abruptly, "He spoke to you? You actually saw him?"

"Well, yeah? Chased him down a dead-end alley, but he went poof. Gone. No sign of him anywhere."

Tim sighed heavily, "Of course. Can you head in to the batcave? We could use some insight into this. So far he's gotten you, me, Batman, and Robin, but no one has gotten a good look at him."

Already heading to where he had his motorcycle stashed, Nightwing agreed, "Sure. You need 5 numbers for a bingo though, and he said I was the last. Heard anything from Hood?"

Tim groaned, "No. Of course he wouldn't tell us if something like this happened to him."

"No worries, Baby Bird. I'll check in with Hood first and then swing by the cave to debrief, how's that?" He asked, swinging a leg over the motorcycle and starting it up.

"That would be great, thanks. If you're the one asking, he might actually tell you what happened," Tim replied, relieved he wouldn't have to try getting information out of Jason himself.

Saying goodbye and then punching in another number, Nightwing revved the engine and took off for Gotham as he waited for Jason to pick up.

"What do you want, Dickiebird?"

Nightwing laughed, "What, no hello, how you doing?"

"Nope. I'm busy," Jason said with a grunt and what sounded like gunshots.

"Well, I had an interesting little encounter tonight, and I have it on good authority you might have had one too. With a certain disappearing boy? Want to meet up at Batburger, get something to eat and tell me about it?"

A few more gunshots echoed down the line before Jason answered, "Fine. I'll meet you at the usual place in an hour."

"Awesome, I'll see you there."

After ordering the food, Dick made his way up to the roof, "Hey there, Little Wing!"

Jason took off his helmet and smirked at him as he accepted his portion of the food. "So, where'd you get stickered, then?"

Dick stared at him in confusion, "Stickered? What?"

Jason frowned, "You said you had a run in with the kid. He came up behind me, scared the hell out of me by yelling 'boo', and slapped a sticker between my eyes when I turned around." Jason paused as he stuffed a few fries into his mouth, "Shorted out my helmet cameras too, though not permanently. Didn't get a good look at him, but he had a funky echo to his voice."

Dick shook his head a bit, "He came up behind me, gave me a smack on the back and yelled 'tag' before running into a dead-end alley with no way out and disappeared. Didn't notice a particular echo, but we were already in a kind of echoey alleyway."

Jason grinned and made a little circle motion with his hand, "Give us a twirl then, let's see."

Turning his back to Jason, Dick heard a loud laugh and a camera noise. It made him happy to hear Jason laugh, even if he *was* apparently the butt of a joke. "Okay, what happened? Why are you laughing?" He asked mock petulantly as he turned back around.

Jason just grinned and showed him his phone, "Kid gave you a tramp stamp, Dickiebird!"

Dick burst out laughing as he looked at the photo, Jason joining in as he wailed overdramatically, "Little Wing! I drove all over Bludhaven *and* Gotham, *and* just ordered food with that!"

Editing this: apparently only the bitchy mobile app has a tag limit. I mostly use mobile. Guess who get to be my guinea pigs on the next installment?? 😁

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter @liandrin @jaguarthecat @russetfur1128 @purefrickingspite @oakskull @vythika96 @molasses-being-slow @satisfactionbroughtmeback @serasvictoria02 @tkiesai @breesperez139 @dhampir-princess @redhoneysugarorange @gildedphoenix @iglowinggemma28 @f4nd0m-fun @therandomartmaker @mandyne-1001 @learning-to-fly-on-my-own @solarisaetherlumine @zeldomnyo

[blueberrypancakesworld]

An acidic gentle embrace

Xenomorph x fem!reader

warning : mention of dead, fluff/comfort (as far as this goes with the xenomorph and the film in general), wounds, no use of y/n, the xenomorph is very ooc probably but for a little cute monster you have to sacrifice something

Summary : A short trip it would have been, or so they had thought when they boarded the spaceship just a few minutes ago…and now it was apparently just the four of them on the run from a monster that was out to kill them, or caring?

info : Omg it has stuck with me since i watched the film with a friend anyway have fun with this little something and i was Inspired from THIS post check it out and the blog from @spicybunni :)

ps : The gif is really everything from @crybabyryo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Death nothing but death would await them if they stayed here even a few moments longer. She knew that, Rain knew that and Andy knew that, they knew it from the moment they heard the hissing, the scratching of the black claws and the watery slime that spread across the floor as the mouths reached for them and the acid threatened to dissolve them.

It wasn't a hunt, it was a death sentence when both sides knew that only the lift that stood between them would mean freedom, the ship would turn on and all they had to do was get back to the hangar…while they had to deal with gravity and non-gravity.

Every time the sirens sounded they heard Rain's calls and the weight that came over them seemed to pull them off the ladder, the pull they needed to get closer and faster threatened to pull them straight back into the arms of this being, this acid-bearing being or Xenomorph as Bishop had told them before all hell broke loose.

,,Just a few more metres! Kay's got the ship ready, we can do this!" Rain shouted from above her as she flung her friend a few metres above her to Andy with a sweep of her arm as gravity was switched off, but now this creature was on her tail and maybe it was space, maybe it was her rapid heartbeat or the pain coursing through her body as she felt herself becoming more and more resigned to the fact that she might not get out of here.

It might be okay if she could carve out time for her friends for her family that she never really had except for the last few hours when they all got closer somehow, ,,Just keep going up, don't worry!" she heard her voice reply back almost automatically, the look she cast upwards telling her that Andy's silent backward glance understood, a no need for understanding when they both knew she wasn't going to make it.

Climbing further feeling the weight of the gun on her back she knew it was the last chance and it was okay so it was the right thing to do, ,,Andy! My weapon….now!" she shouted as she hauled it off her back, caught on the ladder and with another shrill sound the gravity switched off again and with a reasonably well-timed throw the android took her weapon out of the air moments later.

She heard Rain's scream and heard Andy's thanks, but her friend's screams soon joined the creature's hiss and she looked down to see the waves coming closer, ,,Come on! You beasts, here I am!" she screamed at the black creature that slithered towards her and she grabbed the small handgun and fired, knowing that she only had this moment, that her last look up showed her that it had worked, that she could at least buy her friends some time.

But the shots all missed, whether it was her trembling hands or her giving up she didn't know, what she did know was that she aimed her last shot at the ladder as gravity threatened to kick in again, ,,Come on make it quick" she hissed and for a moment she flew around the shaft until with another shrill sound gravity kicked in again and she fell with a scream.

She heard the metallic clang as the ladder scraped to the floor and walls, shattering and soon they would land, probably with a broken neck or worse alive for these creatures.

Closing her eyes just waiting for the moment she heard the hissing screeches of the aliens that seemed to be around her, she braced herself for pain for the end...as the air was forced out of her lungs and she felt the weight of gravity bearing down on her…but pain she did not feel.

Yelping as her hands touched something hard, something that had wrapped itself around her waist and had no intention of letting go, she looked directly into the face of the creature.

It just looked at her with its sharp teeth, a superior smile if you could call it that as she felt the firm tail continue to wrap around her, wrapping around her hips, supporting her legs and resting the spike on her shoulders, she was exactly where it wanted her to be.

The dangerously spiky tail was hard chitin-like and yet it handled its spike with care as the black creature slowly pulled her towards it, she heard her whimper the fear go through her as she just let this simple movement happen, ,,Stay-Stay away" escaped her lips as her hands clawed at its tail which the Xenomorph didn't even seem to notice.

The power in the tail, the power this creature had to kill her, it had used to lift her up with almost a demonstration of what it could do. Showed what it could do to her and still decided to gently hold her as if it owned her and she had no choice.

Instead, she tried to push away as it ran one of its claws over her arm as if it were trying to feel her, ,,Not-please…can-can you understand me?" she dared to ask, wincing as the sharp claws ran over the cut on her arm and the creature let out an almost silent hiss as it looked at the red blood that didn't resemble its own.

As two worlds clashed unequally, a human woman fragile fleshy helplessly wrapped by the perfect creature without feelings seemed not to care about her emotions.

This tongue other than its tail other was so grotesque that it did not match the long enveloping almost protective something, it did not give itself to her words and yet she continued to hold the movements of the muscles or whatever it was that pressed tensely against her body in the pointed tail.

It wouldn't let her go and she realised as if they both knew she could do nothing against the alien and despite the fact that she was inferior to this thing, it still chose to be gentle.

She held her bloodied hand out to the creature, trembling slightly, and saw that it seemed to be sniffing as if it was trying to gather information, ,,This is-is blood in me, you see-see," she said seemed to choke on her stammering voice, aware of the overall irony of the situation and yet seemingly more certain that it would not kill her immediately, not knowing if it understood, instead whimpering in fear as she saw the tongue-like thing.

She couldn't tell if it wanted her blood as she was still waiting for her death to come, if not through the creature then through the wounds and if they weren't fast enough then through the universe which would swallow them all up it was all a big joke from the start and an escape from here would have been too good.

Swore to herself that it would rip her hand to shreds, throwing her to the ground dead…but no instead it seemed to taste her blood the mix of overly watery saliva covering her hand unpleasant but not harmful as the xenomorph used its claw to gently pat her on the head trying to soothe her.

But it was more like someone was almost hitting her on the head it was so strong, ,,Thanks" she just said, and gasped at it as another rumble and beep went through the spaceship in all this she had almost forgotten what was happening around her and the creature seemed to have forgotten too as it hissed and pulled her closer but still not killing her.

She didn't know what it wanted and screamed in fear again as the alien moved quickly on all fours and began to crawl around, pulling her with it but not once did she hit the floor or the walls in the opposite direction, the Xenomorph was careful not to hurt her.

She was sure that she might be fed to the others or would be used as a tool as a cocoon imaginations that threatened to bring tears to her eyes as she disappeared into the shafts with the Xenomorph.

But even though it was a little narrow she found herself metres deep in like a shrouded room in which to her great shock she saw these crawling little creatures she had seen what these monsters could do to her, to her body and insides.

She scratched and clawed at the tail trying to get away wishing she had her weapon back as she saw one of the little creatures jump towards her but a scream from her ‘saviour’ and a knock away the xenomorph protected her and slowly plopped her down in the middle of this nest on something soft that looked like an old blanket or something.

Before she could even move away, however, the tail wrapped itself around her again and the Xenomorph placed itself next to her, seeming to lie down, ,,Thank you…thank you for saving me," she said, carefully placing her hand on the creature's head, which hissed quietly and tried to relax.

As the other creatures snuggled up to her body, probably enjoying her warmth, perhaps these complex, deadly creatures could feel something after all, the incidental thought occurred to her.

Even though she was surrounded by death everywhere, the Xenomorph that was with her seemed to be looking for something like maybe comfort in the face of impending death and maybe it wasn't so bad, maybe it was just that in the end as she cuddled up to the creature lightly she realised that it was all right after all instead of dying alone.

So it was that by the end the creatures were almost cuddling up to the two of them as the spaceship came closer and closer to the metreoites and in the end they were all peacefully together for the first time in a common death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@an-absolute-waste-of-space , @bonkbunn , @uscss-prometheus

[hypnoneghoul]

okay this post hurts to make because it always hurts when someone you considered a friend for a little while turns out to be extremely two-faced

@revengeghoulette (her previous account was @sexy-sea-basss) turned out to have been sending anon hate to at least a few people

she has been confronted in a civilized way and told about all the evidence there is against her and she chose not to defend herself

it was hard for me to believe at first because she has never been anything but sweet and kind but while there isn't a direct evidence the anon hate asks in question came from her all the information surrounding the topic is solid enough to make the conclusion. let me just say here that for someone else than her to be sending these asks they would have to have access to her private conversations

do what you will with this information; ignore, unfollow or block her. feel free to reblog so more people see it, especially those that have been victims of anonymous hate on ghost tumblr in the last few months. it may or may not turn out that blocking revenge fixes that problem for some

the reasons I'm making this post and not someone else is because I'm a decently big blog and have a "bigger audience" thanks to that. also because my friends have had enough and deserve to have a break from this entire situation. don't harass me or anyone else about this unless you want to see some of the mentioned evidence. in that case turn to @mac-and-thefox, but only if you can have a civilized conversation. if not just make your judgement about revenge based on this post and let people affected by all of this to breathe. other victims asked not to be revealed. any weird asks I get will be deleted because as mentioned I'm not doing so great about this situation and don't want to drag it out more than it's necessary. mac's stand is the same

the goal of this post is not to create drama; I've been doing my damn best to avoid such things. no, my goal is to...warn people, I guess. inform you and maybe give some a chance of getting rid of some of the hate you've been getting. if you've been following me for a while you should know I will never tolerate anon hate. this isn't my first call out post, either; some of you might remember the last time I put a hater and harasser on blast

those of you who have "known" revenge/luci are probably as surprised as I was by all of this. she has made a goodbye post, looks like the intention was to leave before she was called out

as I said this one really hurts and I have to take some time to process this emotionally because I considered myself to be quite close with rev/luci

see you soon and I'm very sorry to anyone who has been hurt by her in any way. take care

[jtargaryen18]

One Night With You ~ Pt 3

One Night With You ~ A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts

Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 5.8k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader

Warnings: A little language, references to the sound of people having sex, masturbation.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and any original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content in the third act. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I don’t consent to having my work reposted or translated.

Summary: For @iheartsebstan who was my very first follower here on Tumblr and one I adore. 💕 It’s all about a chance encounter and how it can make everything in your life so much better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 31st: Halloween

The trick-or-treat in your apartment building started at 7 PM. You had no idea just how many kids were in the apartment building because you usually went out with Denny or your coworkers. It was 8 and the event ran until 9. You’d gone through more than half of your candy. And you remembered joking with Bucky that he had enough candy to spare if you ran out.

The problem was, Bucky wasn’t home.

Would he be home? Was he out saving someone as a member of the Avengers?

Was he avoiding you?

You didn’t know who your neighbor was when you agreed to have dinner with him. This morning it was the first thought that popped into your head. With Denny snoring next to you, you were Googling James Buchanan Barnes.

Sure, everyone knew the story of Captain America and his best friend who’d been taken by Hydra and made into an assassin. You hadn't thought it was all that interesting in school. You remembered reading that Sergeant Barnes had been rehabilitated and was free from the dark mind control he’d been a victim of for long decades. That was good news. But, like Captain America, he was over a hundred years old. The man had to have some massive PTSD from what he’d been through.

How to reconcile that story with the man who lived next door? Bucky had seemed a little intimidating at first. Now that you were getting to know him better, he didn't feel like a threat at all.

Still, it explained why someone who looked like him wasn’t out in clubs, meeting people. It might have had a lot to do with the simplicity of your evening with him. Helping him make pasta and cook dinner. A nice conversation over a meal and for once, a man seemed truly interested in who you were, not what you had to offer.

Then Denny texted and he might just have ruined everything. It gave you something to think about last night. By the time Denny was trying to sneak out super early in the morning -- like he did most of the time -- you confronted him. He broke the agreement of your "non-relationship." You'd agreed there would be no displays of jealousy or possessiveness. You broke it off.

You hadn’t confirmed to Bucky that you had a boyfriend because Denny wasn’t that. But the minute he thought someone like Bucky was interested in you, he flew to your door to end what had been a wonderful evening. You didn't regret your decision there.

Bucky must think you’re either jerking him around or you were just straight-up crazy. Either way, that opportunity was probably gone.

“Wow,” Bucky’s voice rose above the din of all the kids' voices. He rounded the corner and his blue-eyed gaze locked with yours. He smiled and it just about stopped your heart. “There’s a lot of kids.”

You laughed. “That’s what I thought too. I’m glad you’re back, I’m almost out of candy.”

“Hang on,” he said, working through the crowd to get to his door and let himself in. In a flash, he was in his doorway like you were, holding a huge basket of candy. Walking over to you, he dumped some of it into the plastic pumpkin you were using. The faint notes of sandalwood and amber reached you.

Because being a super-hot reformed assassin isn’t enough. He had to smell good too.

Going back to his door, there were now two of you, it was a little less crazy on your end of the hall when another flock of them came around the corner. But when nine o’clock rolled around, you breathed a sigh of relief. You’d been dangerously close to running out of candy again.

“How bad was it before I got here?” Bucky asked.

“About as crazy as it was after you got here.”

The two of you laughed.

“At least it's Friday,” you offered. “I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded. “Same. Hopefully.”

When he was about to turn to go back into his apartment, you asked, “You want to have a drink, watch a Halloween movie or something? With me?”

You sounded a lot less confident than you thought you would.

He stopped, looking surprised. Then that smile… “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Yeah?” you asked. Maybe you still had a shot.

Bucky started to follow you, then remembered he was holding a mostly empty basket of candy, and his apartment door was wide open. He set the basket just inside the door before locking it and coming with you.

Nerves almost got the better of you. Now knowing who he was? It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. You didn’t feel like he posed any threat to you, but you did hope you could talk to him like a normal fucking date instead of a fan girl. He must have so many of those.

Closing the door behind the two of you, you headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got bourbon and scotch, and I think I have some vodka here somewhere.”

“Vodka is fine,” Bucky said, taking a seat on your couch. “If you have it.”

That was easy enough. You made a vodka and tonic for each of you. Carrying them back to the living room, you joined him on the couch.

“I’m not going to get you into any trouble, am I?” Taking a drink, he kept his gaze on the glass in his hand. “Or have I already?”

“No, you didn’t have anything to do with it.” Well, yes you did. “Denny and I got into a fight this morning when he left, and it got a little loud. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything, but I left at 5.”

“Good,” you told him. You took a couple of drinks, wanting the temporary courage the alcohol might offer you. “You didn’t miss anything really.”

“Was everything alright?” he asked, the sincerity in his expression made your heart skip a beat. “Did you get everything settled?”

You drained your short glass on that note. Bucky watched you but didn’t say anything.

“Everything is settled,” you admitted. “I ended things with him.”

Did you imagine those smoky blue eyes lit up? “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

You shook your head. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

Bucky placed his glass on your coffee table, scrubbing a hand through those gorgeous locks of hair.

“Last night, you asked me if I was happy,” you admitted. “I thought I was for a while. We were friends with benefits, you know? Denny had just gotten out of a bad relationship when I met him. We were friends, then we started hooking up. He didn’t want a committed relationship because of all the awful things that happened to him in his last one.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Bucky said quietly. “That wasn’t you.”

He was right. And you knew that. 

“What did you get?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I wasn’t…” Sitting here and admitting this to Bucky, it hit you how ridiculous it all was. Your heart sank to think of how sad it was going to sound. But there was something in his gentle expression. A lack of judgment… “I wasn’t alone anymore. A couple of times a week I had someone to watch a movie with or have dinner with, you know?”

He nodded, his sensual lips pressing into a line.

But he did know. Flashes of what you’d read about him on Google flashed in your mind. He knew about being alone. He’d been held captive for decades. Who knew what the monsters of Hydra had done to him? Put him through? And what, you expected him to feel sorry for you?

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you about… “

Easing back on your couch, Bucky’s expression was kind.

“You can complain to me if you want to,” he said.

“I mean, with everything you’ve experienced,” you said carefully. “I must sound pretty pathetic.”

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

“I didn’t,” you told him. “Denny told me. The reason he texted me and showed up here last night all upset was because a friend of his saw me walking with you.”

“He was afraid for you?” You didn't like the worry that started seeping into his expression.

“No, he was jealous I guess,” you said.

Bucky huffed at that. “Jealous of me?”

You nodded. “He was. I guess he was afraid I was trading up.”

“I wouldn’t consider me trading up.”

You would.

“He can’t make pasta,” you finally said, hoping to lighten up the mood.

That made him smile. And he was so gorgeous when he smiled… But there were shadows behind his eyes. Shadows of doubt or fear? You couldn’t tell. You just knew you wanted to take them away.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Really, none of it was your fault… And yet, it was. You showed me more genuine attention in one meeting than Denny did in our entire non-relationship – and that was before you made me dinner. I had a really nice time, Bucky. And I guess it got me thinking that… I want a relationship like that. Someone who is talking to me and listening instead of talking at me.”

“You deserve to have someone treat you right, doll,” Bucky said.

Doll, huh? You liked it.

“So, you’re an Avenger,” you finally said, now that things were out in the open.

Bucky shrugged. “Not really. It’s an opportunity.”

You didn’t understand. “An opportunity?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, for me to go out and try to wipe out some of the red in my ledger. So to speak."

The poor man. "That red didn't belong in your ledger, Bucky. The things they made you do? Those weren't your decisions. Right?"

“No,” Bucky told you. “They weren't. But I still did those things. So many terrible things. I remember all of it, in painful detail. Those memories will never go away.”

You processed that for a moment. They had him for so many years. You were sitting next to a man who was over a hundred years old, most of that time he spent as an assassin for one of the worst criminal syndicates the world had ever seen. You could almost see the guilt weighing him down. 

“Do they, the Avengers, still consider you a threat?” you asked.

“Before they cleaned my head out, I was a threat,” he explained. The pain etched in his expression had your heart squeezing. What the poor man must have been through. And it wasn't his fault.

“I’m just surprised,” you admitted. “I feel perfectly safe here with you.”

The pain eased out of his expression at that, replaced by surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him.

“That’s good,” he whispered. “I never want you to feel afraid of me.”

You believed him.

“So you wanted to watch a movie?” he asked.

That he wanted to direct the conversation away from himself, you got that. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. And you did invite him over for a movie. Snatching up your remote, you went to your collection of movies for streaming. You loved horror movies and you’d bought several over the last couple of years.

“See anything you want to watch?” you asked him. But when you looked at him, you caught him staring at you.

And you were fine with that.

His gaze shifted to your flat screen. “How about… what’s The Conjuring?” he asked.

Perfect. Ghosts. Possession. Hopefully nothing there that would bring back any bad memories for him.

“The Conjuring it is,” you told him, selecting it. You sat back on the couch, moving closer to the center. To Bucky.

The movie began, opening with Ed and Lorraine Warren giving a lecture back in the 70s. You could quote most of the movie, but Bucky hadn’t seen it yet, so you didn’t want to ruin the movie for him by talking. 

Halfway through the movie, Bucky moved a little closer, resting his left arm, the prosthetic arm, along the back of the couch behind you. It was a chilly October night and the warmth of him was tempting.

Yeah, everything about the man is a fucking temptation.

You leaned a little closer. Then he shifted closer to you. You went to put your head on his shoulder, but he stopped you.

“Sorry, that’s not going to be very comfortable,” he sounded apologetic.

Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad about his arm. You scrambled for a solution, and it came to you pretty quickly. Rising from the couch, you moved to sit next to him on the other side. Flitting around nervously as you were, you tripped and fell on the man.

Bucky caught you, face to face with him, your arms braced on the back of the couch on either side of his head. You weren’t rightly sure who moved first. All you knew was that your lips met his. The kiss was explosive, with him pulling you in to straddle his lap and your hands clutched in his hair as his kiss set you ablaze. The moan he pulled from you was a deep, raw sound. Bucky just felt so good beneath you, the soft locks of his hair in your hands, the taste of him filling your senses.

Long heated minutes ticked by as the two of you kissed, moving together. His lips were a tender tease, dancing against your own as if he couldn’t resist. His hands skimmed over your back and hips as you ground down on him, hard and heated beneath you.

Bucky was the one to break the kiss, panting against your lips while his hands held you in place. “Doll, stop,” he said. “I’m sorry. Jesus.”

Your breath came as fast as his. “Why are you sorry? Why—”

Bucky’s flesh hand cupped your face as he gazed into your eyes. “I want this… I think you get that. But this isn’t the only thing I want with you… I'm not Denny. And I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.” You were panting. “You can’t… “ Your body ached, literally, and all he’d really done so far was make out with you.

You started kissing him again and he didn’t fight you, he was clinging to you. Now his arms around you tightened. He rolled his hips beneath you, nudging into the ache where you needed him most.

He chained hot kisses across your jawline to your ear. His tongue teased the sensitive shell of it, his breath hot as he whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” you begged him.

The deep moan that pulled from him pushed your arousal even higher. In a hurry, you pulled the heavy sweater you wore over your head and flung it away. Your fingers moved to undo the buttons of the blouse you wore beneath it.

The heated velvet of his lips burned a path from your ear down your neck. His mouth claimed each patch of skin you revealed in opening the blouse. Bucky didn’t wait until you were finished to slide his good hand up under your bra, kneading the flesh that filled it. While you hurried to shed the blouse, he reached behind you to undo the clasp of the little black bra you wore, roughly pulling it off you. With your breasts on display for him, the heated look in those stormy blue eyes had desire burning you from the inside out.

When his flesh hand returned to your breast, you gasped at the gentle touch. You were used to sharp squeezes for someone else’s gratification. Bucky’s warm hand skimmed over your flesh like it was an honor to do so. The metal of his other arm warmed against the skin of your back while his head dipped, his lips wrapping around your nipple. His mouth was tender, careful. He didn’t bite you. His tongue played with the tight peak in a way that had you squirming on his lap, eager for more of his gentle touch.

You couldn't remember the last time a man was so careful with you.

When his lips blazed a trail to your other breast, you twisted to give him better access, to give him everything. If you hadn’t been so turned on, you would have been embarrassed at your own desperation. Still, he took his time, handling you with delicacy.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, and he rose from your couch with you with no visible effort at all. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you held on. You were about to tell him where your bedroom was but then you realized, he knew the way. He’d never been in your apartment before. How did he know that?

Your bedroom was cool and dark. He was careful when he lowered you to your bed, reaching around you to turn on the lamp on your bedside table. You knew you were staring at him. With just a knee on the edge of your bed, and the man had beautiful thighs, Bucky stopped and looked at you in question.

“How did…” How did you ask without making him feel like he was doing something wrong? “How did you know where my bedroom was?”

Automatically his hands came up to scrub through his hair and you were cursing yourself. What the fuck were you thinking asking that? You were right there – in your bedroom where you wanted to be – with your super-hot, superhero neighbor.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

When his troubled gaze moved to the door, you moved closer to him, placing a hand on the heavily muscled thigh before you.

“Please, don’t go,” you whispered.

Blowing out an exhale, Bucky slowly turned and sat on the edge of your bed. His back was to you, but his attention was very much on you. You could feel it.

“When they took me," he said slowly, "They gave me the serum that gave me all these abilities I never had naturally. Everything was enhanced. I was so much stronger than before and faster. All of my senses were enhanced. I can see things from a distance in great detail. I can pick up scents. My hearing..."

His hearing? Feeling a little awkward now, you crossed your arms over your bare chest. Bucky pulled off the black boots he wore.

Turning his head, he watched you from the corner of his eye. "The abilities they gave me, made me the ultimate predator. There was no one I couldn't find anywhere in the world."

Shivering on your own bed, you just listened. Your mind was scrambling as empathy battled with fear. Bucky was a good man, wasn't he? Because it occurred to you that if you were wrong about him or things went badly, you couldn't hide from him. You couldn't run from him.

While your mind was throwing up red flags in the background, the need that coursed through your body intensified. You wanted him in the worst possible way.

"Back in the real world, my abilities aren't necessarily a good thing, doll," he said as he turned to face you on the bed. His fingers started undoing the buttons on his flannel shirt and you couldn't pull your gaze away from those quick movements. "I've been your neighbor for many weeks now. I've seen you so many times in passing, always in a hurry to be somewhere."

Bucky wasn't wrong. You weren't the most punctual person. Self-sabotage and procrastination often made you late, always had you scrambling to get where you needed to go.

A chill of anticipation ran up your spine when he pulled that dark blue flannel shirt free of his jeans and peeled it off. Your gaze was immediately drawn to all those muscles, the elegant black metal arm with threads of gold adorning it. There was scarring at the skin around that arm but it wasn't as bad as you'd expected.

"You've got this style about you," Bucky said. "I would think someone who wears so much black was either in mourning or trying to hide themselves, to blend into the background. But you're not hiding. You drive me crazy, every time I see you. I love those little skirts you wear, those stockings and combat boots. I love the blood red lipstick you wear, the little silver earrings..."

You had no idea he'd noticed you at all. As it was, at this moment, you were only wearing jeans. You edged back towards the center of your bed. Almost as if it were a predator's response, Bucky followed you. The ache between your legs only grew, had you trembling under that heated gaze.

"I wasn't trying to listen to you in your apartment, doll," he went on. "I really wasn't. I can't really help what I hear."

Hear? Your gaze moved from studying that arm, cutting off thoughts you shouldn't be having about that arm, to meet his. Your mind struggled to push thoughts through your aroused state, to think about what he just said. What did he not mean to hear in your apartment?

How were you supposed to be able to hold a thought with him on your bed with you? All those muscles and warm flesh. How would he feel in your arms? On top of you? Inside you? 

Bucky whispered your name softly. "Did you hear me?"

You nodded, at least you thought you did in your lusty haze. 

"What did you hear?" you asked. "In my apartment."

"Most nights, I just heard you moving around in your apartment." Bucky's intense gaze held yours. "You watching TV or making yourself dinner. A couple of nights a week, he came over. And then I got to listen to you make dinner, listen to him talk about himself, his day. It pissed me off so much that he never asked how your day was, never brought you flowers or cooked for you. He didn't treat you right, doll."

Bucky had heard a lot. But if he'd heard all that...

"Then..."

"Then?" you prompted him. "You listened to us..."

Bucky paused, and a hint of chagrin bled into his expression. One hand slid over your right ankle and with care, he pulled off that shoe.

"I wasn't trying to," Bucky explained, removing your other shoe before leaning over to place both on the floor by your bed. "It wasn't a lot different from listening to the two of you have dinner... It was all about him." 

You were somewhere between humiliation and shame. The look in those smoky blue eyes, the care you read there, lessened the sting.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong or that anything is wrong with you," Bucky moved closer, crowding you into your pillows. "Every time he was in your bed, it was all about him. He got off. You didn't. Not one time." When you dropped your gaze, careful warm fingers under your chin put it back on him. "He never even noticed."

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Every word he spoke was the truth. This time when Bucky moved closer, pressing you onto your back beneath him, you didn't inch away. Tears slid from the corners of your eyes as he hovered over you. Propping himself on his metal arm, his natural hand smoothed over the side of your face, brushing your tears away.

His heated gaze locked with yours as he settled next to you, one heavy thigh draped across yours. His hand slid down to cover your right hand, his fingers lacing with yours. With care, he leaned over and began kissing you. The hand he captured, he moved to his head and you were fine with that, sliding your fingers through the satiny locks of dark hair. His shift in position had his thigh between yours now and you weren't going to lie, the way he nudged it up into your melting center made the ache worse. So good...

Bucky's kisses went to your head like good whiskey, sending ripples of heat and euphoria racing through your bloodstream. Your thighs clamped around that muscled thigh as his lips danced with yours, gently but demanding all the same. When he dropped some of his weight on you, you fought to breathe, vining around him to get more. Now both your hands were sliding through his hair as his lips blazed a trail across to your jaw then seeking out all the places that made you weak just under your ear. 

You'd pretty much disappeared beneath him, and you were loving it. He pulled a chorus of sounds from you as his mouth trailed down your neck, down to your chest. He chuckled at the way you whined when he moved off you.

"Shhh," he soothed. "I've got you."

When his lips surrounded one nipple, your hands clutched in his hair. You didn't have the time or wherewithal to consider how careful he was being or to remember how Denny more or less treated your breasts like stress balls. You were gasping as his lips and tongue teased the aching peak over and over. The desire he was stoking in you was unfamiliar, even in your private moments which was usually the only time you could find release. 

Your body had a mind of its own. Your back arched, a wanton plea for more, more... It gave him easier access and he took it. Your thighs clutched his in desperation because you needed relief from the fire he was building in your body. The intensity of that delicate ache was climbing. His hot mouth moved to your other breast as both his hands, warm and warming metal, began roaming over your body like fever chills.

Bucky loved it when you pulled his hair. He groaned when you started pumping your hips rhythmically, begging him without words for more. You felt that raw sound all through your body, gasping as he moved further down. He was rough when he plucked open your jeans, yanking them down with your panties to reveal all of you to him. His gaze roamed over all your newly revealed curves, making you shiver as anticipation threatened to get the best of you.

Without a thought, you slid a hand down to your own swollen, soaked flesh. Watching him licking his lips as you showed him how you worked your clit had you on the edge of the cliff...

"No, you don't." Bucky's voice was low and rough. 

Batting your hands away, he dove for you with his mouth. His lips and tongue in that tender flesh had you climaxing in seconds, wailing into the quiet of your bedroom. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them open as he really went to work, teasing you through the orgasm in a way that kept you flying, kept you riding that wave the way you rode his tongue. You couldn't move your lower body, couldn't get away from the onslaught of pleasure he was subjecting you to. 

You writhed wildly on the bed in his clutches. The sight of his dark hair, the locks dancing around your thighs as his mouth took you apart would be forever seared into your memory. The way he teased you relentlessly until you came a second time on the tip of his tongue had the world spinning around you. Your nipples were hard, aching peaks in your hands, your back arching wildly as he worked you through it.

Jesus. Would you survive this?

When all sensation stopped, you lay trembling on your bed like you'd been hit by lightning. Bucky scrambled to undo his jeans, shoving them down his body with haste as you watched him with hungry eyes. As soon as his cock was freed, you were staring, marveling at its size. Your hand slid around that heated stalk of flesh, warm velvet in your grasp. He was bigger than Denny or anyone else you'd been with. You were excited and nervous all at once. How was that going to feel?

As if he could read your mind, Bucky came back up to you. His shadow swallowed you again as he kissed your lips and gave you a taste of your own lust from his shiny lips. It only pushed your desire higher, had you winding yourself around him eager for more. When you reached between your bodies for him again, Bucky captured your hand and thwarted your efforts.

"Doll," he whispered against your lips. "I want you so much... But I need to slow down a little here. Okay? It's everything I can do not to come right now. And you're so small..."

"Please," was the only word you could get out.

"M'gonna take care of you," he whispered. "I promise... I'm treating you right."

You couldn't conjure an ounce of humiliation now. You did need more of him. You wanted all of him.

Taking himself in hand, he slid the swollen head of himself through your slippery folds back and forth. Each pass was a soft brush against your clit, a shot of pleasure to take your breath away. You held onto him as he slowly pushed into you, his breath a heated rush just like yours. 

And he was huge. You sucked in a breath as he kept pushing into you. It helped that he had you soaking wet, but feeling your pussy walls stretch around him was intense. The slightest pain blended with a sensation of fullness that had your thighs quivering around his. His blue-eyed gaze stayed on you as he kept going, watching you for any signs of distress. 

By the time he reached the end of you, you were on that ledge again. The only thing that kept you from sailing off that cliff now was the fact that he'd stopped moving. Bucky's body was still inside you as your body stretched around him.

Bucky's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slack above you.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Aside from feeling almost split in two in the best way possible, you were pretty fucking far from okay. You were squirming beneath him, hands clutching at his hair, at the damp muscles of his back. When you slid your hands down to the firmness of his ass, you squeezed. You needed him to move. You needed him to ride you like you were going somewhere.

"Don't...stop," you managed, fighting for air. "Please."

"Look at me," he whispered.

And you did, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

"Does anything hurt?" Bucky asked, sounding as wrecked as you felt.

You shook your head frantically. "Please."

Because you weren't sure you were going to survive if he didn't start moving soon. You were burning from the inside, your lower body stretched around his cock, quivering in need sharper than anything you'd experienced so far. When you raked your nails up his back, you hoped he'd take the hint and take you. Destroy you. 

Slowly, he started moving and it was everything you craved. Bucky's cock was hitting places inside you that left you breathless. His body was heavily muscled, pressing yours into the mattress. All you could do was hang on as his thrusts sped up. Bucky wasn't fucking you. He was claiming you. It was in the tender possession of his hands that skimmed over your body. The sweet caress of his lips over your face and shoulders, dropping on your skin like warm summer rain.

And all the while, he made you take his cock, filling you again and again with thrusts that were driving you insane. When your inner walls began to quiver around him, you braced yourself for a release that was approaching so fast. Your heart hammering against his, Bucky sped up.

"Let go for me," he purred in your ear. 

You didn't have a choice. This time, you buried your face in his chest to muffle the scream. And Bucky kept going as you rode that wave, pleasure pulsing through your body as he began chasing his own end. Your name was a prayer on his lips as his movements quickened, desperate now instead of careful. At the last second, Bucky pulled himself free of you, his come spurting over your tummy, your thighs. There was a lot of it, hot and thick drizzled over your skin. Bucky looked so beautiful above you, lost to the same pleasure he'd just drowned you in as he worked himself with his hand.

Your eyes slid closed, you struggled to breathe. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so sated after sex, so fulfilled. 

"I hope that smile is for me," Bucky said softly, using his flannel to clean his spend from your skin. 

You were smiling. You were happy. But as your skin cooled, you shivered. Bucky tucked you under the covers, climbing under with you to stretch out on his back. When you moved close for cuddles, his right arm pulled you to him. You loved the steady beat of his heart below your ear, the sheer warmth of him.

"Sleepy," you murmured. "Will you stay?"

Denny had stayed after sex but he'd immediately turn his back to you and get on his phone. You didn't know Bucky's intentions but you were hoping he might want to stay the night.

"I'll stay," his voice was rough and sleepy. 

You held each other in the cool quiet of your bedroom. Bucky only moved you to turn out the lamp. Maybe now that it was dark, you felt a little braver.

"You said... that sex wasn't the only thing you wanted with me," you reminded him. "What did you mean?"

Bucky pressed a kiss into your hair. "I meant just that. Not that the sex wasn't good because it was amazing..."

Your heart skipped happily in your chest at that.

"But it's not all I want from you," Bucky said in the darkness. "I want to get to know you. I want to talk over breakfast in the morning and eat leftover candy." His fingers traced circles around your shoulder and arm. "I want to wait for you to get off work at the florist and take you on a date. I want to have hot chocolate and watch it snow outside together."

Snuggling closer, you smiled. It all sounded wonderful to you. And if sex was that good on top of it?

"Is that yes?" Bucky asked.

"Yes," you whispered. "But... do you think we can do what we just did again before breakfast in the morning?"

His sigh was a happy sound. 

"Doll, we can do anything you want," Bucky whispered.

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[maimingaffairs]

Hello Hello! I finished reading Shadow and Bone a month ago, and just finished watching it on Netflix yesterday. While scrolling the Darkling x reader tag, I found your blog, and I must say it's so cute! I absolutely adore it! Can I request a cute little Darkling x Fem Reader? Reader is seven months pregnant, and some random Grisha insults her infront of the Darkling and he goes wild. THENNNN when training people, she kinda gets into a fight and uses her powers on someone? Basically Reader being iconic for lord knows how long. Anyways, I hope you can write it and please take your time! <33 THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!

hi anon... as per usual this was a late night project so I apologize for the quality.. but i love u for requesting this <3333 also no zoya hate… i just didn’t feel like making up someone else so my poor baby got chosen to be the mean girl.

warnings: a little bit of zoya slander (but we love her)

word count: 2.1k

Fiery (aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

-

Aleksander was never one for public displays of affection. It was never something he was interested in, even once it had been common knowledge that you two were married. Other than a hand hold or a little kiss on the top of your head, most of your touches stayed between the two of you. 

That was, until you became pregnant.

Once you two had found out that you were expecting, he took every chance he could get to hold onto you and pull you closer in front of everyone. 

Your morning had started like every other morning had for the last seven months of your pregnancy. Aleksander would wake you a while after he’d been awake and ready for the day, and he’d sit with you in his arms on the edge of the bed for a long time, not saying a single word. You two stayed like that for almost twenty minutes, and finally, when it was time to get up, he placed a soft kiss on the side of your face and helped you out of bed. 

“I have meetings to attend today. Would you care to come along?” He asked softly and looked down at you while you pulled your nightgown off. 

“Oh, perhaps. I wouldn’t want to miss out on your company.” You hummed, and it was true. You didn’t care for being away from your husband often. 

Normally he wouldn’t ask you to join him, but ever since you’d become pregnant, he didn’t like to let you out of his sight. You knew it was because a deep worry plagued him, a worry that was nearly as ancient as him. The fear that something could happen to you and his unborn child prompted him to keep you at his side at all times; and really you couldn’t complain. 

He brought your dress over to you and helped you pull it on before he laced it up and you let out a content sigh. 

“Always so kind as to take care of me.” You teased and leaned back against his chest when he finished lacing your dress up. 

“How could I not? You can’t even hardly touch your own toes. Speaking of, sit. I’ll put your shoes on for you.” He hummed and you obliged, sitting down on the chair nearest to you. He went off to find your shoes and came back a moment later with them, sinking to his knees in front of you. He gently eased the shoes onto your feet and you let out a little sigh. 

“I want to stay in bed with you all day.” You said quietly and he looked up at you with a frown. 

“My love, I promise we will have a day to just ourselves as soon as possible. You are more than welcome to stay here if you want.”

“No. It worries you. I can always tell.”

He responded with a little nod and then he finished tying up your shoe before he stood and held his hands out for you. 

You took them gently and he pulled you to your feet before pulling you into a gentle embrace. 

“Have I told you recently just how happy you make me?” He asked softly and then pulled away from you just enough to look down at your face with a smile. 

“You might have. I hope that I, too, have mentioned just how elated I am to be with you.” You replied and his smile grew. He moved down to kiss your nose once before he clasped your hand in his and tugged you towards the door. 

“Come, let’s get a move on. The day cannot begin without us.” 

-

You sat around a table with Aleksander and a handful of other Grisha while your husband stood, pointing at various places on the map. You weren’t really listening to him.  You didn’t have to be in on this meeting, but he insisted that you come, so instead of paying much attention, you instead laid your hands against your abdomen. You smiled contently when you felt a little kick against your torso and you laid your hand down over it. 

Aleksander must have noticed you feeling for the kick, because he trailed off and reached down to lay his hand over yours. You looked up at him with a smile and he leaned down to place a kiss on your hairline before he pulled his hand back and continued on speaking. 

“You see, if we go around-“ 

“Excuse me. Why are you in here if you’re just going to sit and distract The General?” A sharp voice rang out, interrupting Aleksander and drawing your attention to her. 

A Squaller you recognized as Zoya sat with her arms folded primly against her chest and she eyed you with a certain contempt.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked incredulously and pushed your chair away from the table. 

Aleksander placed a hand on your shoulder gently and then he cleared his throat. 

“My wife is here because she is a very talented and powerful Inferni. She sits on my council along with the rest of you.” He explained coolly. But Zoya didn’t take this as the end of the argument. 

“Right, but we all know that’s not true. I mean really. You sit up in here and distract him and everyone else, don’t you have a life outside of following this poor man around?”

You stood up from the chair abruptly and opened your mouth to speak but Aleksander beat you to it. 

“Enough! How dare you have the nerve to insult my wife? In front of me, as well. You are dismissed, Zoya.” Aleksander said, in a clipped tone. 

“Oh, come on! If it were anyone else you wouldn’t care, General. But just because she’s knocked-“ 

Aleksander slammed his hand down on the table and then pointed up at Zoya. 

“Leave while you still have tongue in your mouth. Stay, and I’ll cut it out and make you wear it on a chain around your neck.” He hissed and everyone at the table instantly looked down at their laps, avoiding any eye contact with the seething general. 

Zoya looked taken aback and she scoffed and stormed out of the room, and you could hear her stomping footsteps all the way down the hall. 

“Does anyone else have anything to say before I continue?” He asked lowly, his voice back to the cold and pleasant tone it normally was. 

Everyone shook their heads and he let out a sigh, nodding once before he pointed back down to the map.

“As I was saying…” he began and you slowly lowered yourself back down onto the chair, holding your stomach as you did. 

You huffed in annoyance and scooted back in, not paying attention to the rest of the meeting. 

A while later, Aleksander placed his hand on your shoulder and offered you a hand to stand up. You took it gratefully and stood up with yet another angry huff. He briskly led you out of the meeting room and you opened your mouth to speak but Aleksander shushed you quietly. 

“I know, sweetheart. I know. She will be dealt with.” He assured you and you shook your head. 

“What the hell? She will be dealt with? I ought to deal with her myself! She can’t act that way!” You sputtered hotly, and you heard your husband laugh quietly.

“Aleksander! This isn’t funny! Stop laughing.”

“You’re right, it’s not. But you’re just so cute when you’re angry like this.” He teased and you rolled your eyes and then gently moved away from him. 

“I’m supposed to oversee the training of the new Infernis today. There were a few brought in.” You stated and he nodded once. 

“I will join you, then. After I check in on David. Will that be okay? Can you manage for just a few moments without me?” He asked and you simply scoffed. 

-

Sure, at the time, it seemed like you could manage a couple of Infernis that couldn’t seem to make work of the Small Science. 

And you could- really- but it was Zoya that you personally couldn’t handle. 

She made a point to talk over you every time you opened your mouth, and you couldn’t help but wonder where Aleksander was and when he’d make good on his promise that she would be dealt with. 

You stood silently next to Ivan and watched as a few other Inferni stepped in to help out the newcomers and you tapped the stoic man’s arm.

“Will you find The General for me?” You asked him quietly and looked up at him. 

He simply glanced down at you and then shook his head.

“The General has asked me to stay with you while he’s away.”

“I can take care of myself.” You remarked and you could’ve sworn you saw a little smile on Ivan’s lips. 

“I know, y/n. I’m sure everyone within the palace knows.” He replied in a monotone, but you didn’t miss the amusement in his eyes. 

You went to point it out before a large gust of wind sent you crashing into Ivan’s side. He grabbed you firmly and held you on your feet so that you didn’t fall and you both turned your attention to Zoya who looked smugly at you. 

“Sorry, y/n. You’d think I would’ve noticed you considering you’re… looking rather large these days.” 

Your jaw almost fell to the floor, but you didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, so instead you stared coldly at her and you shook your head. 

“And you’d think that perhaps you would’ve learned some couth living here in a palace but apparently not.” You snapped back at her and her eyes narrowed angrily. 

“Oh please, the only reason you’re here is because you-“ 

You had enough of her and you raised your hand and sent a wave of fire towards her. She scrambled backwards to escape it and fell into the dirt and you walked towards her angrily, flames still engulfing your hands. 

“Because I what, Zoya? Do tell.” You rasped angrily and she held her hands up to send a gust of wind at you again, but you simply threw another cluster of fire down at her and she rolled away to dodge it. 

You leaned down over the girl and grasped onto the lapels of her kefta, tugging her upwards a bit. 

“You speak like that again to me and I will show you no mercy. You don’t have to like it but I am married to The General. Whatever past you have with him is just that; a past. Your jealousy changes nothing.” You spat down at her and then let go of her kefta. 

You dusted off your own and then you eyed her with contempt. 

“Get off of the ground and go clean yourself up. You’re covered in dirt.” You snapped and watched as the girl pushed herself to her feet and stormed off in anger and embarrassment. You let out an exasperated sigh and you placed your hands down on your stomach, feeling the gaze of everyone in the training yard hard on your back. You spun around and everyone shifted their eyes away as quickly as they could and your eyes landed on Aleksander who stood next to Ivan. 

A little amused smirk tugged the corners of his lips up and he watched as you approached the two of them. 

“You are going to over-exert yourself and then what?” Aleksander scolded you, but he wasn’t mad. In fact, he chuckled under his breath after he spoke and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, someone had to deal with the insolence and the back talking, if it had to be me then-“ 

You didn’t get to finish before he was approaching you and gently grabbing your wrists, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. 

“Let me stick to the punishment of my army. However, I think I can look past this, just this once.” He teased and you leaned against him with a sigh. 

“I mean, it was amusing. You getting so angry while with child. It was like watching a furious toddler. You’re so cute and feisty.”

You rolled your eyes and then let out a little giggle. 

“You could say… fiery.” You teased. 

“That was hardly funny.” He replied.

But again, you could have sworn you saw Ivan smile.

[sgiandubh]

Machiavelli took a day off

... when the Telegraph article was written in great haste, by someone blatantly given a last minute task, who had no fucking idea to whom she was talking and what exactly meant the PR vetted or even prompted questions.

Instead of a line-by-line analysis, we'll take things differently, on this page, using the '5 W rule of journalism' (or even non-fiction writing, in general, if you ask me):

Who? SRH, EP of the OL series and one of the two male leads of the TCND series, which will be shortly broadcast by Channel 4, in the UK and IE only (and Movistar in ES). The rest of the world is not concerned.

What? A promotional article, focused on the actor's personality, CV and projects.

When? At a particular moment in time, just after the SAG-AFTRA strike and before shooting OL's eighth and last season.

Where? Crucial to place it in LHR (to imply he is 'just visiting') and God forbid it would be in GLA, which (for some curious reasons) seems to be off-limits.

Why? An actor with solid credentials hopes to keep agents and employers interested, after above OL project is done, which is rather sooner than later. Also addressing (as per the actor's PR agent specific requirements) three particular issues: the Palestine letter, the Bond project and his 'private life'.

Onwards to the three issues at stake, which probably prompted the article. In chronological order, this time. And no, I am not going to address the Scottish independence mention, because this is a sincere, well-known position of his and this page never bitches about people's convictions - also because I educated myself on it and I agree with S.

Palestine:

It was important, for obvious reasons, to push damage control a tad further. Also, strictly from a hypothetical POV, I would be very curious to read your compare and discuss thoughts with regard to this particular post on this page:

A sort of answer came in the Telegraph paper, too. Not only to me (I am less than nobody), but to all the people (of which we were many) who thought he should not get involved in this type of debate:

This is not the first time he uses this specific talking point. Last time known to me was on the day the Queen died, on X (I looked for that post, but can't find it, because I am just a filthy lurker, like that: but it is there).

The really interesting question, therefore, is: does he/somebody monitor what is being said on Tumblr? The answer is, I think, yes, and it shows. Will it stop me talking in here? Nope, as I trust my discerning abilities, for the moment. Other than that, his damage control op does not bring anything new to the table.

Bond:

What can I say, Sir? While there's life, there's apparently hope. But that doesn't translate well, given the context of your interview. That spells desperate and it's not a great picture. Also, let us keep a pious moment of silence in fond memory of a 25 year old who had a dream and the dream went to Daniel Craig (who I detested as Bond, because every girl has her Bond and mine is Pierce Brosnan, amen).

I know people still speculate about it. I have very high reservations and I cannot, for the life of me, seriously consider even thinking about the possibility. He could do it with flying colors, no doubt. Does he stand a chance? I prefer to have zero expectations on it and be floored if it happens. If he naively still yearns/pushes for it, this interview could very well be as abysmal as C's VF tantrum.

'Private life':

Ugh. Slippery when wet. I have already touched the subject in a reactive re-blog of @samheughanswife's post about it and I will not get back to what I said even without reading the article.

Some more extraordinary wording, in here: 'there might even be space for a personal life' - begs the question 'when?' In general? (in general, all men are created equal, too - it's practice that kills the theory) Now? (it is my staunch belief the answer is yes). After OL? (then and now and after Hiroshima, too). Can you program these things? (nope, stars simply aligned) Heh. Enough said. Also, 'might' spells cheap insinuation to me. But that's just me, a blonde voice in the audience.

Now, onwards to the daughter thing. I believe this specifically addresses the cheap, abundant clickbait content on You Tube, hence the vague 'online' reference (not Tumblr, not fans, not blogs - he is not C, he kept it clean). Such as this very recent one (last 'clip' on the topic was five days ago):

The two I chose to share here, which are very conspicuous FAKES, are originating from the same 'source', an account that seems obsessed with S&C and has no problem changing its narrative three times a week, if needed. My opinion? PR induced shite, to prod numbers/interest and see what sticks.

No newborn daughter? I hear no lies.

As for OL leaving 'no time for relationships', ahem. *urv will be thrilled to read that, I bet the farm. As will Flukenzie Floozy, at least her - damn, she was persistent! Also, hello, back to 2014-2016 playbook, aren't we?

No new relationships? Whatever for, when IYKYK? I hear no lies.

'I want a cat' ('because she's great', says my shipper brain on autopilot), 'but I am too scared even for that'. Humph. A very poor lie. But admitting you wanted and got a Ca(i)t scares the bejesus out of you, since 2016. I hear no lies. Yes, I am being tongue in cheek and damn the consequences.

Morality of it?

The easiest solution is never to take personal questions in interviews or panels. Why These Two still do it completely mystifies me.

[hades-in-bloom]

But First, Coffee

Post-DI!Leon S. Kennedy x Corp Exec!Reader

summary: Leon is after his next target when he encounters a not-so-cooperative informant.

warnings & contents: older Leon (as per usual); could be age gap, could be none; accidentally plot-heavy and a dialogue heaven; mentions of smoking; Leon doesn’t do one-night stands; hints of power play; the reader could be any gender; might be turned into series (? big question mark).

a/n: this one just wrote itself as the pairing dynamic bugged me for a while—I haven’t seen it anywhere yet, but nudge me if I’ve missed anything; I think Leon might enjoy being bossed around a bit (for his own good, also by someone who isn’t Ada)—and as he can easily boss back, too. Overall, desperately clinging to my last brain cells. As always, proceed at your own risk—and let me know if this smaller font is unreadable. Minors DNI! Masterlist

Also—holy smokes, folks—this blog hit 100+ follows! Might sound insignificant to some, but it just blows my mind. Thank you so much for reading! xoxo

***

‘I haven't seen him. I wasn't paying attention. Please, I have more important things to attend to,’ you begged repeatedly—until a cop who was torturing you gave up. She knew she couldn’t keep you in the interrogation room for longer, so she had to let you out—eventually. You never thought that your morning run would end up with you in a police department.

‘We’ll have a short break,’ she sighed, giving you a stern look. ‘You may grab coffee next door; I'll call you back.’

You breathed out an irritated ‘Great,’ and took your chances, making your way to the only coffee machine in your vicinity. That one looked abused by thousands of hands eager to get a dose of instant caffeine.

‘You’d be better off drinking plain water than this,’ you heard a chuckle from your right before you noticed a tall man leaning on the nearby wall, watching you. He was dressed casually–heavy boots, dark jeans with a straight fit, and a probably expensive leather jacket; his sharp gaze trained on you, attempting to look into your soul—luckily for you, some of your employees were convinced you had no soul, so you left unfazed by the efforts.

You chuckled back at him. ‘Fair, but I don’t think that even this swill of a drink could worsen my situation.’

‘You don’t look like a local,’ you mentioned aloud, and he smirked in reply.

‘Good eye—I’m not. Well, not anymore,’ he confessed, stepping towards you. He didn’t seem to be planning to give you more details about himself, and you weren’t in a hurry to ask—or, instead, you didn’t care—yet.

‘Well,’ you gave him a look full of friendly irony, ‘if you’re not my knight in shining armour who can get me the hell out of this interrogation immediately, so I won't lose my job, I’d rather get on with my coffee.’

You turned your attention to the visibly overused coffee machine so you didn’t see how his eyebrows rose up a little, and a slight smirk touched his lips.

You grabbed a half-full coffee cup from under the machine and then turned as you heard your name down the corridor. ‘And that’s me.’ You emphasized before walking away. He watched you calmly, his eyes expression unreadable. ‘So long, local boy.’

You couldn’t hear him when he quietly chuckled in amusement as you returned to the officer’s lair.

It took twenty more minutes of unnecessary suffering before the door to the interrogation room swung open.

‘Leon?’ The cop looked surprised as you glanced at the intruder quickly—the local boy. Now, you were intrigued.

‘Jess, sorry for interrupting,’ Leon smiled at the old friend, ‘but I have Chief’s clearance to get this one,’ the man nodded at you briefly, ‘out of this questioning.’ He gave Jess—or, as known by you, Detective Jessica Harlow—an apologetic look. ‘D.S.O. orders.’

The detective sighed and returned him an irritated but tamed look. ‘Fine,’ Jessica glanced back at you. ‘It was a waste of time anyway.’

You couldn't hold back a scoff. ‘Tell me about that.’ Leon gave you a dirty look, although you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed giggle.

‘Alright, get out.’ He said with a sigh, waving you towards the corridor. ‘I'll explain everything on the way.’

As you stepped outside the NYPD building, you took a moment to examine him. ‘So you are the knight in shining armour.’

Leon chuckled lightheartedly. ‘Oh, I'm definitely not that.’ The man neither considered himself noble nor his usual tactical vest was shiny. From his point of view, he wasn’t a hero type either.

‘Leon Kennedy, Division of Security Operations under the U.S. government,’ he introduced himself, done with the jokes. You held back a moan—so the local boy was a trap—a quite high-flying bird, though. He read you and showed a soft smile. ‘I know you have spent a lot of time with Jess, but I might have a couple of questions more.’ Leon thought he was worthy of the favor after he pulled you out of the interrogation with NYPD hours before Harlow would get satisfied—Jessica has always been thorough. ‘And for a change, they won't be about that theft you witnessed this morning.’

You weren’t excited; he could see that much. ‘Do I have a choice?’ You sighed.

‘Not really,’ Leon admitted honestly. You found him amusing—although the man knew he was in control of the situation, his look was soft, allowing, lacking arrogance you get used to seeing in your line of work, and he was too relaxed to your liking.

‘Can it wait at least?’ You pressed with desperate notes in your tone. ‘I am late to a critical meeting.’

He nodded reassuringly after a short pause.

Although still impatient, you sighed in relief and took a business card out, handing it over to the federal agent. ‘I guess I can skip my introduction.’ You stepped to the side, hailing a taxi. ‘Call my assistant. He’ll match our schedules.’

‘I can wait, but I can’t wait for long,’ Leon retorted as your leg stepped inside the yellow car.

You gave Kennedy a sweet smile before you shut the door. ‘Great. You tell him that.’

Leon was left stunned for a moment as he watched the car riding off deeper into downtown New York.

‘Shit,’ he mumbled with annoyance in his voice—and with a sudden hint of admiration, too.

***

‘I told you—I can’t wait that long.’

You jolted in surprise as you heard a familiar voice and your car door swung open. It was a couple of days since you met him for the first time.

‘I told you to call my assistant,’ you smiled politely as Leon made himself comfortable in the backseat next to you. You gave the nod to a company driver that he could drive on despite the unexpected guest present.

‘Oh, I have called—but the only available slot is three weeks from now. I guess you forgot to brief him on the urgency of our meeting.’

‘My bad then.’ You sighed, showing no remorse. ‘Close the door if you want this conversation to happen. I was just about to drive back home.’

Kennedy followed your advice and shut the door before the car took off.

‘So, what do you want to know?’

You were direct—Kennedy preferred that style of communication. Leon pulled up a picture on his phone. ‘There’s an assumption to believe you should know that guy.’ You tensed a bit as you took a look at the image.

‘I would prefer to have my lawyer present,’ you replied casually, making Leon chuckle.

‘Come on, it’s a friendly conversation. I’m not here to accuse you of anything—I have more important things on my plate.’

You scoffed. While thinking, you pulled up a cigarette case out of your purse and were about to light up one of those when you noticed the man making a slight grimace—it wasn’t his goal to tell you what to do, and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t glance at him at the right time. You shot him a look. ‘What’s that? I saw it.’

‘I just… prefer my clothes not to smell of cigarette smoke,’ Leon replied, his voice gentle but confident. Despite the diversion, he stayed close to the topic. ‘But I'd rather you answer my question than we talk about the dangers of smoking.’

You had to admit that this annoying motherfucker had a style. ‘Great. Otherwise, I was looking forward to being scolded by a stranger.’ Your tone of voice was surprisingly friendly. Leon seemed not to hold a grudge.

You didn't care much about the opinions of others generally—but this time, the unknown force made you slow down and put away your lighter before you got a light out of it.

At last, you entertained his question. ‘The man is Art Rankine.’ You glanced back at Kennedy’s phone, still showing the photo. ‘I had a pleasure to work with him on one of the mergers.’

‘Legion Corp.,’ Leon assumed, and you raised an eyebrow.

‘Good to hear you did your homework. Then I don’t have to break my NDA—and thanks to that one, I’m not sure I can help you much.’

‘I would question that all of your encounters with Mr. Rankine were covered by the NDA.’ The man smiled, giving you a look. You felt your cheeks getting warm. ‘Am I right?’ Leon tilted his head while keeping eye contact. After a moment, you returned a dirty look at him.

‘We dated. Fleetingly, if I may add,’ you admitted reluctantly.

‘Good. As the merger was closed recently, I'd assume you still have his private contact?’ Kennedy asked.

You felt like you were falling into the James Bond-esque rabbit hole, and you didn't enjoy it.

‘So the all-knowing Leon Kennedy knows I slept with the man but couldn’t get his number?’ You didn't hold back on sarcasm, but it left the federal agent unfazed.

‘Something like that,’ he retorted. ‘I need your help to set up a meeting. That’s all I ask for.’

You scoffed. ‘You request me to contact my ex, and then you call it a small favor?’

‘That’s the best offer I’ve got.’ Leon admitted. ‘I’d rather we establish this partnership quickly.’ Oh, you knew well what that meant—a very gentle threat of making you spend a lot of money on your lawyer. It annoyed you as much as, to your amusement, you found it hot.

You sighed.

‘How do you want the meeting?’

You could see his watercolor eyes light up in satisfaction.

‘We can talk about it tomorrow. Care to give me your personal number?’

You took his mobile phone out of his hands before quickly typing in your number and calling your cell.

‘I am saving you under a horrible name,’ you warned the federal agent, and Leon let out a chortle.

‘Flattered. Now, I can get off right there,’ he nodded at the closest street corner. Soon, the driver stopped there for a moment.

‘So long, local boy.’

You watched him get out of the car, observing his features unintently—and then, by accident, you caught himself staring at his lips for a quarter of a second.

He noticed it.

‘Buy me a coffee first, sweetheart,’ he smirked before closing the car door as he exited the vehicle.

You realized you were holding back your breath after a while—you shook it off right after, finally putting a cigarette into your mouth and briefly cursing under your breath while you lit it up.

[sports-on-sundays]

prince not so charming / CL16 / PART 1

Warnings : Mention of death, Mention of sex, Mention of marriage between a minor and an adult (spoken about as a bad thing, not a good thing), Mention of forced marriage, Switching between second and third perspective, Charles acting a bit spoiled maybe.

Summary : Prince!Charles x Princess!Reader - A prince has seven princesses brought to him, and must choose which one he wants to marry.

Author's Note : I've had ideas like this circulating through my head for quite a while, so I figured this would be something good to start my blog off with, especially since I think it's another idea that a lot of other people might enjoy reading. I'm just starting out my blog, so if you read this and you like it, I would really appreciate if you would hit my ask box and request something to support me and help me get going! And of course reblog and follow would be kind too <3 Thank you, and I hope you enjoy my little story.

Requested? : No.

There are six other princesses travelling by chariot today as well, also headed to the same exact castle you're heading to.

When your father, the king of your small island country, told you that the prince of one of the largest countries nearby was sending in for all the single princesses, both you and your father had a plan.

Unlike a lot of countries, yours is just fine with having a woman rule as queen, by herself, so since your mother passed away in childbirth, and you're your father's only child, you've both basically decided that getting married into some other kingdom's royal family is just about the last thing you want to do.

Apparently, this Prince Charles, who is twenty-five, your age, has been being pressured ever since he was eighteen by his family. The story is that they keep trying more and more ladies from all different countries and families, but every single one he sees he quickly dismisses after meeting them, rejecting every single one.

Which, you figure, means he's a spoiled little ungrateful brat, like many of the royals from surrounding kingdoms and countries. Not surprising.

For seven years, his mother and eldest brother have been searching all over for the woman he'll finally accept. Of course, searching only in royal and noble blood.

So now, they're bringing in seven more princesses to see if he'll accept any of them. You're generally not worried about this conceited prince wanting to marry you, but just in case, you and your father have ensured that there's no chance he will.

So you sit in the covered royal chariot, wearing a plain white dress, a men's cloak, your hair very simply down over your shoulders, and dirt smudged on your clothes and face.

Even though it's not your most favourite outfit, it's worth it to avoid at all costs being forced to court with... someone like Prince Charles.

You're sure he'll be disgusted.

Which is good.

You've met all the princesses that will be arriving as well, and you're sure most of them will be more interesting to a prince such as Charles. Apparently, to them, he's known as the most handsome prince around. All of them would be delighted to marry him, and are surely putting forth their best for the prince.

You're sure he just uses his good looks to fake a charming personality, so people like him. That's what all the princes do, but then when you really get to know them, it turns out their personality is really quite devilish in the end, and it was just an act, a show, to get you interested in them.

Soon enough, the chariot you're in stops, and your driver gets out, holding the curtain for you as you lift your skirt to jump out. The driver offers his hand to you for help, but like always, you ignore it and hop out yourself. It's not like when women jump we break our ankles or something. My goodness. You know deep down inside they're just trying to be honorable and kind, but still.

You look up at the castle. It looks very basic, like many other castles you've seen, with it's tall pillars, carved images, and glorious towers reaching up, slicing into the bright merry blue sky.

"Would you like me to walk up with you, or send a servant to go with you, up to the door, Your Highness?" asks your driver with a very low bow.

"No thank you, but I appreciate the offer. I can handle walking by myself. Just carry on."

"Yes, of course, Your Highness," he nods, briskly, with agility, hopping up into the chariot.

You turn away from that, and start walking down the cobblestone path that leads to the third courtyard, which leads to the main gates. When you get to the gates of the third courtyard, a guard grunts at you, not even realizing that you're one of the princesses, because of your means of arrival and presentation, "What's your business here?"

"I'm one of the princesses to meet Prince Charles today," you say simply.

He narrows his eyes. "No, you're no-"

"Listen, guard. This was a message sent only to the princesses, no? How could anyone else know about this? If you do not allow me to enter and go to the castle with all the other princesses here today, I will order my men to go against you in an instant!"

The guard's back straightens. "Right, then, Your Highness! Please, show mercy, and forgive me for my misunderstanding! I'll lead you to where you need to go immediately!"

"You're forgiven. Now, yes, take me there. And let's get this over with."

Charles reclines in his velvet red couch, leaning back as he stares up at the sparkling gold chandelier with a heavy sigh. There's a knock on the door to his room, and he calls, "Who's there?"

His older brother, Lorenzo, enters the room, shutting the door behind him. "Charles, come on now. I thought you were supposed to be getting ready." He ruffles his brother's light, fluffy, tangled hair. "My goodness, Charles, you need to get this cut and washed before you meet the princesses. And clearly you are in need of a shave."

"I don't have to have nice hair or clothes for every last one of those ladies to fall deeply in love with me. In fact, half of them probably are already deeply in love with me," replies the younger with an eye roll and a scoff.

"Charles, you know you have to look more presentable. Stop with all the excuses. Get up now."

"Is Mama gonna cut my hair?"

"Charles, you're just going to have to get it done by a servant. I'm sending one in to get you fixed up now, okay?"

Charles nods, sitting up more with a sigh. "Yes, yes, Lorenzo. Now be on with your day, now, won't you, King?"

"Charles," he says, looking back from the doorway with a sigh. "Do one thing for me, please?"

"Another thing?"

His brother, the king, ignores Charles' little comment and just says, "Please choose your princess today, Charles. Please. Choose the best one for you. I've been trying to give you responsibilities for so long. I think having a lady may help with your..."

"My what? My goodness, Lorenzo, be out of my presence already! Please!"

And with a sigh, the elder brother listens to the younger's order and leaves him to be by himself.

Charles gets up and walks across the room, stopping in front of his mirror to look at himself. His hair is a little tangled, but he doesn't mind it. He always thinks it makes him look better. It reminds him of how he looks after he's won a race, pushed his horses to the limit, with the wind and dust blowing dirt up into his helmet. He's never minded a little bit of danger, and a little bit of dirt. And a little bit of fun.

Yet a part of him loves to look nice, too, for these girls. Not because he's trying to attract any of them.

Maybe just because he feels so strong in those buttoned coats with gold lining, big, black boots, with a beautiful sword at his side.

Maybe all this talk of marriage and pressure to fall in love is a pain, but by now, would he want it any other way?

It's strange the way you get used to the things you hate, so much that you almost start to like them.

The six other princesses sit as far away from you as they can. Naturally, they're disgusted. Not that you care. You figure it's better like that. This way, maybe their sweet perfume won't make you smell any better.

Even the guards in the room seem extremely confused and unimpressed by you.

Which is just fine. It means that hopefully the prince will feel just the same.

Soon, a servant comes in, saying quickly, "I'm sorry for the wait, Most High Ladies of the Land. Our highly respected and honored Prince Charles, the second heir to the throne, after King Lorenzo, may he be honored forever, is still preparing himself to meet you beautiful ladies. I can assure you all that he is very excited to meet you all. Forgive us for the wait."

Of course he's taking long. He's probably quite vain. Just like these girls surrounding you. Quite vain, you know. You can't help but smile to yourself as you ponder upon the fact that perhaps this vain, conceited, self-centred prince could potentially get along quite well with these girls. Prideful people often seem to enjoy the people who are much like themselves, after all, right?

Soon enough, though, they start taking the princesses, one by one, to come and meet the prince. The princesses here are from ages anywhere between fifteen and twenty-five. You realize that the younger one's time meeting Prince Charles is much shorter than the older ones, and even then, the longest time before the servant comes to fetch the next princess is at most fifteen minutes.

Of course, they save you for last. Which you're happy about. After seeing all those beautiful princesses, you're sure Prince Charles will be even more disgusted with you than he would've been originally.

You stand up when the servant gestures you to come, and you walk next to him down the hallway. When you make it to the end of the hallway, there is a small passage with stairs leading up. "I am sorry to tell you that Prince Charles' room is on higher floor. Would you like me to carry you up the stairs, Your Highness?" The servant asks with a bow.

"My goodness! How do you treat your women in his kingdom? What a meeting this shall be with the prince! By the name of God, servant man, no. I can walk up a flight of stairs just fine on my own two feet."

"Of course, Your Highness!" the servant says quickly, and you start walking up the spiraling staircase. You don't doubt that all the other princesses accepted the offer to be carried.

The hallway at the top is much nicer than the one you were just in. It has red carpets, gold lining, and windows all across one wall. You pause to stare out them. They overlook the huge capital city, and you think about all the little common people down there, working for their lives.

It's such a sad concept. While you're up here, worried about having to meet a prince, there are people down there worrying about staying alive.

It's not right. And when you're queen of your island, that's what you want to fix. In your country, your father has it all set up for you.

You want the people to be happy and content.

"Your Highness?" the servant says. "This is Prince Charles' room."

You nod. "Thank you."

"I'll be waiting outside here if either of you need anything."

You nod again, and slowly turn the knob to the door, before stepping in, closing the door behind you gently with a quiet click.

You have never been in the bedroom of a prince before.

There's a huge window overlooking a beautiful bright bluebody of water, which you assume must be the ocean. On the wall is a breastplate and two swords. There's a large wooden wardrobe with beautiful carvings all over it, and sitting on top of it are two helmets- one look's like a knight's helmet, shining with steel, and the other a horse racing helmet with red streaks painted on the sides. Next to the wardrobe is a painting hanging on the wall of a young man with dark shaggy black hair and a playful smile, wearing the elaborate outfit of a king, despite not having the looks of a typical solemn painting of a king. There's a wall with lines of different kinds of plaques and trophies on shelves, glass doors covering them. Prince Charles has a huge grand, wooden but painted white, piano. His huge bed has curtains surrounding it, and next to the bed is a little nightstand. There's a huge desk with parchment and ink sitting on it, and there's a soft red rug over the floor. Hanging on the wall is a large, beautiful, tinted, full body mirror. There is a large empty fireplace, and with it a red velvet couch and matching chair. Next to these pieces of furniture is a table on which a map, a compass, and a bowl of fruit sits. The whole room smells like sweet, calming incense.

And then, after viewing the room, you turn to view the much less interesting prince. He looks like every other. Sure, his face is exceptionally handsome compared to the others, but who cares? He's not that glorious. He wears a tall black shiny boots, red pants, and a long white double-breasted jacket unbuttoned with gold buttons and gold furnishing. Underneath his coat he wears a soft looking poet shirt. The whole outfit fits him quite well, and compliments his thin, lean, but very strong figure nicely.

But the best of his outfit is the sparkling gold crown upon his head. It shines with all different kinds of lovely colorful sparkling jewels. You can't help but think about how heavy that must be on his head.

His brown hair is nicely styled, his eyes bright, and his white smile likely fake.

But the smile quickly vanishes as he can't help but express the surprise on his face when he sees you. "H- Hello," he says. "You are...?"

"Princess Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Prince Charles." You curtsy.

"Nice to meet you, too, Princess," he says with a quick bow, obviously trying not to express his emotions on his face. It's hard not to laugh at this. At this little rich prince trying to hold it together. He takes a step closer to you. "How old are you?" is his first question. He speaks with the accent that it seems many people from this country speak with. You can't help but wonder to yourself if this country has it's own native language.

"Twenty-five, Prince."

He nods. "Me as well. What kingdom are you from?"

You tell him about the island kingdom you come from, and, as expected, he doesn't end up having ever really heard of it much. "How far off the coast are you?" he asks.

"It took half a day to sail here."

He nods once again. "Alright... Uh, why don't you sit down here next to me," he starts, walking to the velvet couch, "and I can tell you a bit about myself, if that's okay with you."

"Of course, Prince. Go on," you answer as you sit down next to each other on the couch. You look over his nice appearance once again.

"I'm the second son of my father, may he rest in peace. My elder brother is king of this country, and my younger one, Prince Arthur, rules nearby conquered land. Me and my wife would be the rulers of a section of land that we have just won over in war, across the river."

"So you're telling me that regardless of being older than your brother, he rules more than you and has a wife, while you don't?" You really couldn't care less. You're just trying to make him dislike you.

He clenches his jaw and says, "It's just taken a little longer for me... I guess."

"Why do you think that could be?"

"I... well, Princess, so far in my life, I've chased after things besides ruling and marriage."

"Right," you say simply.

"So... tell me about yourself. What... makes you... you?"

You can't help but softly chuckle at that question, as the Prince's eyes look you up and down. "Well, isn't this meeting really only about two things?"

"Two things? I'm sorry?" he asks in confusion.

"Whether the princess' beauty suits your tastes, and whether she'll be good to make you your babies."

He stares, wide eyed. "Wow... egh, you're honest, now, aren't you?"

"I suppose I am," you respond with a shrug.

"Right..." is all Charles says, at a loss for words at the princess' way of speaking. This is the first princess that's been so... blunt with him.

And he realizes perhaps this is why he has been avoiding marriage for so long.

He'd rather not getting married to a woman for her intense beauty, and only use her for sex to have his children. He doesn't even want children. Or a wife.

He really just wants to be for himself. Adventure. Have fun. Make the most of life.

"So, Prince Charles, you said you've been chasing after other things besides marriage and ruling? I'm curious to know what."

He swallows. "Really, my lady, it should not matter. I'm really leaving that old life in the past." Or at least trying. Really, every part of Charles hates to think about leaving that life in the past. It's a life he loves.

But, as everyone seems to say to him, Charles, you're not a little boy anymore. You're a grown man at twenty-five, and it's pathetic how little you've got done in life.

To them, what Charles has done is pathetic. To Charles, what he's got done is success.

"I still want to hear, Prince Charles."

Charles sighs. He figures it doesn't matter if this girl knows or not. He's sure no one would want him picking her, anyway. So who cares if she has a strange view of him? "I love chariot racing. It's my passion. I love it so, so much. See those trophies in that case? Those are from racing. I love the adrenaline, and the danger. I love the speed. That's one thing. I also love music. I play on that piano all the time. I'm not interested in getting married... I mean, I guess I can be kind of romantic, but I don't want to get married for the reasons everyone says I should. They always bring me these women that all seem to act exactly the same, with the same clothes, same personality... And then they get annoyed at me for loving none of them. They try to put me in armor and get me to fight if I'm not going to marry, but that's never turned out either. Even though I have the strength for it, I don't want to do it. I don't want to go out on battlefields and shed the blood of other men. Maybe that makes me a coward, I don't know. Maybe it makes me 'not a man'. I don't know. But I can't help it. It's just the way I am."

The look on this princess' face seem to be a mixture of extreme curiosity, regret, worry, and empathy. Which is confusing.

"Prince Charles, I'm sorry. You're very unlike many princes I've met. But I think you're just fine."

"I'd say you're quite unlike all the princesses I've met. And I think you're fine, too. The bothersome thing is that I basically have to choose one of you seven today. By the way, Princess, usually I wouldn't be saying this. But I just can see that you aren't like the rest. I can tell I can trust you."

"Why do you have to choose one of us now?" the girl questions.

Charles sighs, glancing down at this rug. "I don't want to make this seem like this is any of my family's doing. They love me, and want the best for me. But I have advisors put in place, that in a way have authority over me, and have told me if I don't choose a princess today, then they'll choose. And I know who they'll choose. There's a princess in a very, very large kingdom very nearby, and they've been waiting until she turns fifteen. She's fifteen now, and I'm sure they'll force me to marry her, because having a marriage with a kingdom as big as that is just wise, when it comes to government. But I am not marrying mere girl who is ten years younger than me. There is no way."

She nods. "That's... That's good. Very wise. There are lots of princes I know of that would do just that. So I respect your decision in that very much. But I suppose the best thing for you to do is to just choose the nicest out of those girls to marry. It's a hard situation to be in, though. I'm sorry for you."

"Are you really a princess?" Charles asks, looking the woman in her eyes.

"Yes, I am."

Charles reaches over and wipes a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his thumb, before holding it up in front of her. "What is this all about then?"

"I didn't want to doll myself up. Just like you, I don't want to marry, really. I'm into other things that are uncommon as well."

"Like what, Princess?"

"Well, racing as well. I like hunting with my bow and arrow. I love swimming, and going for walks, and gardening. Most people think princesses always enjoy indoors more, but I love the outdoors. And luckily, in my kingdom, I'm allowed to spend my time outside. I don't like singing or dancing or reading or knitting or doing makeup or dresses or anything, like most people expect princesses to."

Prince Charles suddenly takes your hand and says intensely, "I have an idea."

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling suspicion sink deeper within you. "What...?"

"If neither of us want to marry, then if we married each other, then we could get along more. Like, I'm not saying we fall in love. I'm just saying if neither of us are willing to fall in love, then we marry each other."

"I see your point, Prince Charles," you start, "but it's quite selfish, what you're planning. While you're being forced to marry, I'm not. So while for you it would be a step up, for me it would be a step down."

He continues to hold your hand, though. "I would let you live in your country and rule it as you please. Please, Princess Y/n. It would be... such a favor for me. Seriously, the only time you'd have to see me is when we're invited to dinners and what not."

"Oh, yes, the only time I'd have to see you is for dinners, and as well, perhaps, to come to bed with you to give birth to your heirs! Prince, I do not-"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What? It's rude to interrupt."

"I've stopped trying not to be rude by now! Just let me ask my question!"

"Go on, Prince Charles."

He sighs, giving your hand a little squeeze. "Do you realise that if you want to protect your own kingdom, and keep it as it is as well, that you're going to need an heir?"

You swallow.

What a terrible, awful turn this has taken.

You should've just dressed and acted like all the other princesses.

But you had no idea that Prince Charles would be so...

Such a square peg in a round hole.

Much like you are.

This time you squeeze his hand, which is very, very smooth, and would feel nice, if it weren't so sweaty at this very moment.

He barely whispers, "Please."

He's so desperate.

What will your father say?

You suppose you'd just have to explain the whole thing to him.

"Listen, Prince Charles," you say, slipping your hand out of his, standing up. "I do not want to marry you. I ask you not to marry me. But I understand your point of view, and I understand that I should expect that regardless of what I've said, you still might choose to marry me."

He stands up with you. After getting to know him more, he looks much more handsome than he did in the beginning.

And then he says something shocking. "I think you're beautiful."

You stare, eyes wide. "I'm sorry, what?"

He reaches over and wipes the other smudge of dirt from your face. "I think you're beautiful."

"How? I went out of my way to look ugly."

"It's your personality that shines through those lovely eyes of yours."

"Wow... Thank you, Prince... You weren't lying when you said you were... romantic. Although you know if this is some way to manipulate me into wanting to marry you, I'm sorry. I've got my mind set on no."

He shakes his head. "That's not what I was trying to do. I was just telling you that... Showing you that... No matter what you do to your appearance, I still thought you're beautiful."

You stare into those bright green eyes, and for a moment, there's a little pit in your stomach. But not a bad one. Like there's something flying up within you. You take a step closer to him, and say, "Prince Charles, you are a very special person. You really are. To see past all the makeup and dresses and perfumes, and look for the one with the personality you like the most? That's extraordinary."

He gently puts his smooth hand to your cheek and says, "You've got to be special as well. After all these years of seeing all these ladies and princesses that I could choose to marry, and you're the first one I have any kind of feelings for. Your humility is so admirable... You just want to be there for your country. You're amazing."

You swallow, nodding. "I don't want to marry, but out of all the princes I've met, you're the only one I would marry if I had to."

"You're the... You're the princess I would marry, and I have to."

You sigh. "I beg you not to say me, but I understand, fairly enough, you're looking at your own best interest. So if you... If you end up having to say me, please let me be there for your country."

"I'll say you, but I'm putting a lot on the line."

"Like what?"

"If my advisors don't like you, which is likely, they'll make me marry the fifteen year old, likely. But it's worth it. I think putting so much on the line is worth it to be with a lady like you. Because I know I won't meet another princess like you. They likely won't even let me, though, so you're probably safe."

And suddenly, your heart softens as you look at his longing eyes, and you say gently, "Prince Charles, say you'll sleep on your decision. They'll have us princesses stay at this castle for the night. In the morning, I'll make sure I look just like the others."

"Cover up your beautiful face with all that makeup?"

"Just so your advisors accept me."

He stares, wide eyed, before suddenly hugging you.

"Oh my goodness," you breathe.

"Don't tell anyone I've hugged you."

Hugging is reserved for, in tradition, only those who are courting or related to each other, so this in a way fills you with guilt, because you know how much people would look down on you if they knew he was hugging you so tight.

You smile to yourself, though, and hug him back, even tighter.

Who cares if they look down on you?

Prince Charles steps away out of the hug, before bowing to you, taking your hand, and kissing it, before saying, "I suppose you should leave now, Princess Y/n. I'll see you later."

[whumblr]

Heyoooooo, been rereading home is where the hurt is, cause like it is so absolutely amazing, always a delight to find again and rerealise how fantastic it is.

Anyway I was reading lessons learned (yay for jay he earned his little triumph) and I was wondering how Zayne would retaliate? I feel like Zayne was also tired in it and normally he still could overpower Jay easily, but Id really love to read more of him getting his revenge at a later day, if you want to write that.

I hope you have a nice day,

~ @whumpedydump

Ehe :3 Yes, he can easily overpower Jay, that's the fun of it. Thank youu <3 Follow up to Lessons Learned.

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

"Jay... I think we need to revisit what happened last night."

Yep, there it was. The consequences of his own actions. A hand snagged the neck of his t-shirt and pulled him back in a swift tackle to the ground.

Zayne immediately took his chance and sat right on top of him while Jay was still getting some air back into his lungs from that smash to the floor.

While Zayne's face showed no swelling or bruising from yesterday, Jay could still see a darker line crossing his nose. A tinge of pride pricked through his fear.

"Because you'll want to be careful with such tricks," Zayne whispered, taking utmost care himself not to repeat last night's mistake. He didn't lean over Jay yet, just sat up straight on his hips and pinned Jay down. "Because some people... might not take to it as kindly as I did. Might not be as... merciful to let you get away with it."

"I wouldn't describe you as someone who's full of mercy..."

Zayne merely curled a lip in a wicked smile and continued. "Some people, would be pissed!" And he slammed a fist right next to Jay's head.

Jay flinched hard.

"Would start retaliating." Another blow barely missing the other side of his face. "Punch your lights out." A fist flew towards Jay's nose and Jay twisted away as best as he could, brought up his hands. But when he opened his eyes, Zayne had stopped, knuckles now an inch from his face. A trembling exhale released, followed with a betraying, pathetic little whimper.

"Or worse..." Zayne pulled his fist back and unfolded two fingers into a fingergun. "What if it had been someone with a gun, like Emery?"

Jay pulled a face and couldn't expel the sudden vision of Emery sitting on top of him instead of Zayne. He shook his head and looked straight into Zayne's eyes, the familiar evil that he suddenly way preferred, trying to ground himself in reality.

Zayne slowly leaned forward and let the tips of his index and middle finger rest against Jay's forehead. He clicked his tongue, flicked his thumb. "He'd probably empty a gun into your brain if you tried some stunt."

"I'm not stupid enough to pick a fight with someone with a gun."

Zayne laughed. "You do realise that is literally what you are doing by researching his crimes, right?" He caught both Jay's wrists and slammed them roughly into the floor. "Not to mention that you are stupid enough to pick a fight with someone who hands you your own ass multiple times a week."

"You literally asked for it yesterday."

"Well, you know how I always like to encourage you to fight back," Zayne crooned right in his face, knowing he had Jay pinned to rights. "Just, you know, be careful with it. It could do you more harm than good."

"So you're saying to only try this on kindhearted souls like my trainer or you."

"That's right."

"I see." And Jay suddenly bucked his hips up, caught Zayne both off-guard and off-balance, tipped him forward, and tossed him right over.

-

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror

@susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime

@freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks

@hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion

@afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8

@itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful @withdrawingramen @lolrpop

[plusvanity]

To make this clear, Old Mayhem and me NEVER attacked one another.

There's no animosity going on between me and her. Although in the same 'fandom', our blogs exist separately and don't overlap. This doesn't mean hatred. This simply means a different public. The effort that me and her seems to put in the content that we create is massive, so as I said before, I will say I again, be a decent person and don't spread misinformation about what my dynamic between me and her is like. Also, don't spread hateful messages in anyone's inbox about how 'shit their art is' or 'how dare you not like this blog??' Because you NEVER know if the person who reads it has s*****e thoughts and the LAST THING that they read is your spiteful message. It happened with me before, and I wouldn't wish this feeling even on the worst people in my life.

This is all I had to say regarding Old Mayhem.

Now, I want to address the real issue who's name I didn't mention until now, Kelma 69, the one blog who's proud description is 'Getting rid of weird Mayhem fans, mostly from Pelle's fans'.

I don't even have to add anything about this description, her malicious 'witch hunt' intentions are more than obvious and the fact that I seem to be her number one target is sending a shiver down my spine.

I don't have an issue with people who block me and move on with their lives, this is normal, it's expected. But I have an issue with someone who blocks me and keeps endlessly talking about me with every chance they've got, so I want to ask her why?

I never interacted with her before, yet she comes across so vicious about my art and fiction for seemingly no reason other than envy.

Of cause that you're entitled to your own opinion, of course that you don't have to like me, this is absolutely alright, but you should assume your words instead of hiding behind blogs that had been here long before you or 'adjusting' your statements to how it seems more convenient for you.

Calling my art 'crap', than saying 'I'm not insulting the artist' is blatantly lying with proofs on her own page.

Also, the fact that she was both following me and my other artist friends, liking our 'Vargelle' fanarts until someone brought this to her attention and she suddenly blocked me and my friends is a 'getting caught' behaviour. I can understand that she may had liked those fanarts because of Pelle's design, as she mentioned at one point, but some of those drawings didn't even had Pelle's face in it, so how does this work? She also liked fanarts of Varg (alone) even if she hates Varg more than anything, so was this for his 'design' too? Is it?

Also, her parasitic tendency to accociate herself with Old Mayhem to seem relevant, to gain attention and admiration denote very evident deceiving and manipulating tactics.

Another aspect of her double-faced behaviour is the fact that she presents herself as 'shy' when she has no problem whatsoever getting rid of what might step out of her appreciation area. Shyness doesn't come with blunt insults and a covert need for conflict and drama. Shy people doesn't seek reactions, they don't go out to hate on people to boost up their ego and shy people DON'T throw the 'you just play the victim' card whenever they can't find solid arguments against their accusation.

Is calling out someone's falsehood the equivalent of 'playing' the victim? Is this the way to wash your hands clean from taking responsibility?

The fact that you won't allow a conversation to take place and once you consider that 'you're done playing your game' you pull out, just shows how unwilling you are to recognise what you've done.

I hope everyone can leave behind this senseless drama. I'm so sick and tired talking like a broken record about these things.

Live and let live. There's so much to do in life other than being angry about fiction, trust me.

[thelargefrye]

CHRISTMAS BLUES  …  one - shot

pairing : poly!ateez x idol!f!reader

genre : angst + hurt / comfort + really really light smut

warnings : language + insecure thoughts + y/n celebrates christmas + mentions of shower sex

word count : 2.3k

notes : this is a repost on my actual blog bc my other blog @/atztv has gotten shadowbanned 😕

after your flight home gets cancelled last minute, you spend the holidays alone and you take this moment to think about your relationship with the boys.

DEC. 23, INCHEON INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SOUTH KOREA, 10:49 PM

“cancelled?” you echo the words the airline worker had just said to you. they nodded and once again offered an apology to you, but you brushed them off. “that’s alright, thank you. happy holidays,” you say softly before picking your bags up, luggage towing behind you as you get out of line.

your flight home had been cancelled last minute due to the weather, which means that you would be spending the holidays by yourself.

the boys had already went home. all miles away from seoul and from you in order to spend the limited time they had with their families before they had to go on tour again.

well, might as well go back to the dorm, you think before trudging your way out of the airport to haul a taxi.

DEC. 24, ATEEZ DORM, 12:03 AM

the dorm always felt odd when the boys weren’t here. even when they were on tour and you remained in korea, it felt weird.

something just… unsettling about how quiet it was. that’s why you usually opted to stay in your own apartment when they were gone.

leaving your luggage by the door along with your shoes, you make your way through the dorm. winter jacket being ditched at the edge of the couch mindless as you make your way to one of the bedroom.

smack, you turn to see your coat now on the floor and your shoulders slump at the sight. shit, i’ll get it later, you think before continuing to seonghwa’s and hongjoong’s room.

changing your clothes, you throw on one of seonghwa’s hoodies. allowing yourself to be engulfed with his scent, you think this makes the dorm a little less cold.

you make your way back to the kitchen to fix you some ramen after realizing you hadn’t eaten in a few hours.

honestly, making ramen wasn’t your favorite thing to do. you know that if wooyoung was here, you would just harass him until he caved in and made it for you. he would complain about making it, but you knew if it really bothered him, he have a small smile on his face as he made.

yeah, his ramen is better.

DEC. 24, ATEEZ DORM, 8:09 AM

woo-bug : hey bby! let us know when you land and make it home!!

joongie : ^^ love you! have fun and call us when you get settled! 😙😙😙

you smile at the texts you got from some of the boys. you woke up this morning to see the text from them and it makes your stomach full with butterflies.

you : hey loves, i’m home 💕 will call you later when i get the chance!! have fun with your families.

you toss your phone to the side as you get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

you figured you might as well go out and do some things then be trapped in the dorm for two days by yourself.

as you’re in the shower, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the boys. how seonghwa would be arguing with san about joining you in the shower, the eldest telling the younger to let you shower in peace.

however unknown to the fact that hongjoong had already snuck in and joined you. you would be like putty in his hand as his hands roamed your body, feigning innocence and claiming he’s “helping you wash” and the next thing you know he has two fingers shoved into your pussy.

you try to hold back your moans, but he would encourage you to let them out as his free hand fondles your breast. “let it out, pretty. let them here how good i’m making you feel.”

his fingers move faster, the feeling of you clenching around his fingers let’s him know you are close. you finally do reach your climax with a high pitched moan, you are hit with the sudden realization that you are alone.

the now ice cold water feels weird hitting against your hot skin.

DEC. 24, SEOUL, 2:30 PM

your converse against the sidewalk make a nice rhythm as you walk through seoul.

it’s been a while since you’ve traveled to this part of the city and you’re hoping to find a new café to take yeosang to before they leave on your.

hongjoong’s jacket, that you definitely didn’t steal from his closet, engulfs you nicely along with the thick sweater you have underneath. you knew hongjoong would love your outfit.

you need to make sure to take a picture and send it to him later.

as you walk, you take note of the a new café you haven’t seen before. the aesthetic of the place was cute and warm and you knew you would have to bring yeosang here.

and maybe even jongho. the maknae always made it seem like he was rather indifferent about coming to cafés with you and yeosang, but you knew he secretly loved coming on those kind of dates with you two.

you once overheard him tell yunho about a café he wanted to take you too. you remember the gummy smile he had and the fond look yunho gave him.

now that you think about it… that was around the time you wanted a break from the relationship because of hongjoong and that producer.

you feel a sense of guilt settle in your stomach as you think about how he never took you to that café or even mentioned it.

during that time, you felt like you just ruined everything for them. that’s why you wanted to take a break. you remember how miserable you felt and how you would actively ignore their longing looks when you ran into them at the company.

you try not to think about how miserable they must have felt too.

DEC. 24, SEOUL, 5:30 PM

“why are you doing here, young missy!” the familiar voice of the grandma at the bbq restaurant yells as you walk through the door.

you can’t help but smile as you walk over to her hunched form and allow her to hug you. she’s warm.

“gosh, missy, why are you so cold? and where are the boys at?”

“my flight home was cancelled and they boys are with their families,” you explain to her as she leads you to a table.

she doesn’t hand you a menu, already knowing yours and the boys orders by heart. you’ve been coming here since your trainee days. you look at the walls to see pictures of you and the boys decorating one wall and her collection of signed albums on display for everyone to see.

grandma makes you feel proud of all your hard work. she’s witnessed you grow from a rookie to someone who has fans all over the world.

“oh, grandma, here,” you say handing her the present your bought her once she brings you your food.

“thank you, dear, you always did have such a warm heart.”

DEC. 24, HONGJOONG, 9:30 PM

“huh? what do you mean she didn’t go home?” hongjoong was confused as he spoke to his manager over the phone.

“i seen her while i was out. she was wearing one of your jackets you designed. i contacted her manager and apparently her flight was cancelled last minute. figured i would at least let you know,” his manager finishes and hongjoong thanks the man before he hangs up.

why didn’t you tell them your flight was cancelled? if you had told him you were still in korea, he would have immediately went to go get you and bring him home with you. his parents love you, they wouldn’t have minded.

the question still lingered in the back of his mind as he tries to figure out why you didn’t say anything. he lets out a sigh before picking his phone back up and going to his contacts.

“hey, do you have a second?”

DEC. 24, ATEEZ DORM, 11:30 PM

this is nice, you think to yourself as you snuggle on the couch, favorite blanket wrapped around you as you watch a christmas movie. a bowl of popcorn nestled right next to you.

the christmas movie was one of those cliche love story ones. the type that always got mingi emotional by the end of it.

“i’m just so happy they found each other!” mingi would say as he wiped his eyes away before cuddling into whoever was the closest to him.

you’ll have to rewatch this movie with mingi when they come back. you know he’ll really enjoy watching it with you.

you let your head rest against the back of the couch, eyes following the characters on the tv. letting out a few chuckles here and there because of their shenanigans. by the end of the movie, you were starting to grow tired, but decided that one more movie wouldn’t hurt before going to bed.

looking at the clock you notice it was 11:30, only thirty more minutes until christmas. you remind yourself to send the boys a text once it hits midnight.

your first pad softly across the floor as you make your way to the kitchen to fix another bowl of popcorn.

while you’re waiting, you begin to hum to yourself. a song you and hongjoong have been working on while he’s been away on tour, sending the song back and forth between each other.

it was something you were proud of.

beep, beep, beep! you take the popcorn out of the microwave and dump it into your bowl.

thump! you turn around at the sound, bowl in hand you begin to walk near the door. “that damn jacket, i swear to—

you cut yourself off when you notice yunho standing at the entrance. you can’t help the small gasp you let out as the two of you make eye contact.

yunho smiles at you warmly, setting his bag aside he immediately comes up and engulfs you into a hug.

“my pretty baby, why didn’t you tell us your flight was cancelled?” he asked, hand running over your hair as he holds you close to his chest. you can feel the coldness of outside lingering on his jacket as you snuggle into him more.

“i didn’t want to bother you guys,” you mumble once yunho pulled away a little bit. you refused to look him in the eyes, ashamed of not telling him.

he took the bowl of popcorn from your hands gentle, setting it aside before cupping your face. you didn’t even realize you had tears forming until he forced you to look at him.

“you should know by now how important you are to us and this relationship. you will never be a bother to me, or hyung, or any of us. i love you so much,” he confesses and you feel your heart thumping hard in your ears at his words.

“i’m sorry!” you cry, tears finally falling as you shove your face back into yunho’s sweater. “i’ve been so miserable since you guys went on tour. seeing you all perform and do lives together made me feel so… i don’t know, like i don’t belong in this relationship.”

“and being here alone for christmas just made all those feelings come back?” he asked softly, he felt his heart ache when you nodded your head.

yunho didn’t say anything as he tapped the back of your thighs, a signal for you to jump, to which you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“go ahead and cry your heart out, baby, i’m not going anywhere,” he says once he moved the two of you to the couch. you felt your blanket drape over your shoulders as yunho started rubbing circles into your back.

DEC. 25, ATEEZ DORM, 12:05 AM

when you woke up, you felt overly warm. your cheek was squished against something soft, too soft to be the couch cushion. and when you go to move, that’s when it hit you.

yunho had come to the dorm.

you sit up quickly, pushing your body away from your boyfriend to see him looking at you in shock.

“whoa, you okay, baby?” he asks still a little surprised by your sudden movement.

“i-i’m fine…” you say trailing off as you feel yourself relax a little bit.

“do you feel a little better?” he ask, hand coming up to caress your face.

“why didn’t you stay with your family?” you ask completely ignoring his question.

“what?”

“why did you leave them to come here?” you rephrase your question, looking down at your hands instead of meeting his eyes. for some reason you were afraid to meeting his eyes. why? you weren’t too sure on.

“because someone needed to be with you during the holidays,” he answers quietly, his fingers coming and intertwining with yours lazily. “i told my parents and brother that you were alone at the dorm, and my mom practically shoved me out the door to get here quicker.”

you looked at him a little surprised, “really?” he nodded with a smile. “my mom really likes you, she wants to meet you soon. i think she might be a bigger fan of you than she is of me,” he adds with a laugh and it makes you laugh as well.

then something hits you, “what time is it?”

yunho looks at his watch, “a little past midnight. merry christmas love,” he says before leaning over to kiss you. “thank you for loving us and sticking with us through everything,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls you back to his chest.

you smile as you snuggle into his chest, “merry christmas to you too, yuyu. i love you.”

[sunshinebarbarian]

Hello!! You can call me Pigeon! I'm 23F, from Portugal. I'm making this long ass post to give a little background information about the blog. I'm usually not into games like BG3, so I was a little late to the party, but boy am I glad to have arrived.

Click here to see the list of what I've already posted <3

I'm also posting on AO3!

One of my best friends kept talking to me about the game for YEARS and at some point last month Instagram decided to start recommending me fan edits of Astarion (which is funny because when she first asked me years ago who I'd pick, I very decidedly said Karlach) so I caved, and asked her to let me borrow it from her. When I was about 80 hours in, I broke and actually bought the game, because her account was being used and I didn't want to wait to continue my playthrough.

Neither of us expected me to get as much into the game as I did. Seriously. There's like 12 pages of screenshots I sent on discord of my own gameplay (a lot of it is Sol and Astarion kissing, oops), not to mention the unholy amount of reels and videos related to the game that we send each other.

Anyway, after about 180 hours (if you don't count the hours lost when I fucked up and had to reload the game) I finished the story, and proceeded to go cry in the corner. Instagram once again came to the rescue, when I started seeing posts from @meanbossart and I actually got obsessed with the way he draws his characters. I'd ride his dudrow to the Feywild and back if I had the chance. I'm not much of a visual artist, but I always loved writing, so I started writing Sol's adventures, because I was absolutely not ready to say goodbye to her (we spent over a month together! that's longer than some of my relationships). I'm doing it for myself, but I figured someone out there might enjoy it too, so I'm posting it. Plus this way I can save it more neatly than if I just keep using the notes app on my phone. I'm not new to Tumblr exactly, but I have never used an account for more than just snooping for particular posts. There's also AO3, but frankly that website confuses me and intimidates me.

Now, about Sol, and her story: I'm starting it pre nautiloid abduction, and will follow the choices that I made during the gameplay. I'm going to add some filling, to flesh out her character and her relationships with the whole gang, as well as just to give uniqueness to her story (otherwise you could just. play the game. and it'd be the same thing.). When I was creating Sol, I decided that I would play her as myself, making the choices that I would make, doing the things that I would do, so, the filling will be game/lore accurate still, and it will be based on my reactions and thoughts about game events. Luckily I have twelve pages of screenshots and a lot of messages to guide me. Once the game story is finished, I have ideas for how things will continue, because I refuse to let certain things remain the way they are, and I have attachment issues.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Is It true that Lebon gathered musicians to play music during the executions in Arras?

The the best source mentioning any such thing I’ve got so far is a letter from Armand Joseph Guffroy to Robespierre dated 18 floréal (May 7 1794), published in the former’s Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices, released a few months after the fall of latter:

To relax, and to be consistent, you must this evening, or tomorrow at the latest, have Demeulier and his three companions freed from the Madelonnettes, to know for yourself the truth of what is happening in Arras. Listen and remember; these are Patriots oppressed by a Priest, who has been locked up like a madman, and who, when he could no longer be fanatic and superstitious, became a fanatical patriot through avarice, and caused patriotism and virtue to be hated by his extravagant conduct; or should I say, by his atrocious conduct. Know that, placed on the balcony of the comedy, on the fish market, (today Place de la Revolution), with his nose on the guillotine, he spoke with passion about the execution, and he ordered the tune ça ira to be played (il a fait jouer par la musique l’air ça ira). […]

Guffroy was Lebon’s archenemy, so this information should of course be treated with some caution. We know Guffroy was not an eye witness to this (but also that he did have contacts with people that could have been, such as Antoine Buissart and one Solon), that his goal with the letter is to get Robespierre to recall Lebon, increasing the chances he would lay it on thick in describing what he’s been up to (or could it instead be argued he would try to be as truthful as possible in order to get Robespierre to see how bad it really is?) and that stories about representatives on mission taking pleasure in watching the executions take place hardly is something unique for Lebon, and in some cases can be disproven (such as in the case of Collot d’Herbois, who almost certainly did not personally witness the shootings of condemned in Lyon).

Besides that, I found the following two testimonies from possible eye witnesses, both cited within this great blog post. The two are however written both 1, way after the fact, and 2, by people hostile to Lebon, making it hard to rule out the possibility their stories are embellished or even build on what Guffroy wrote in his report (although in the latter case, the part about the music is a very tiny detail among almost 500 pages, so it still seems a bit strange they would all pick exactly that detail to copy):

When any of his colleagues passed through Arras, [Lebon] always proposed their joining with him in a "partie de Guillotine", and the executions were perpetrated on a small square at Arras, rather than the great one, that he, his wife, and relations, might more commodiously enjoy the spectacle from the balcony of the theatre, where they took their coffee, attended by a band of music, which played while his human butchery lasted. A Residence in France during the years 1792, 1793, 1794 and 1795 (1798) by Charlotte Biggs.

Penetrating the crowd, which was thronging in the dark and winding streets, I soon reached the fish-market. Then the first object which struck my sight was the guillotine, raising its blood-red boards above the silent multitude. An old man, whom they had just tied to the fatal plank, was the victim; suddenly I heard the sound of trumpets. On a high place which overlooked the orchestra, was seated a man, still young, clad in a Carmagnole of black and blue stripes. This person, whose appearance announced monastic rather than military habits, was leaning carelessly on a cavalry sabre, the large hilt of which represented the Cap of Liberty; a row of pistols ornamented his girdle, and his hat, turned up in the Spanish fashion, was surmounted by a large tri-coloured cockade: I recognised Joseph Lebon. At this moment his mean countenance was animated with a horrid smile; he paused from beating time with his left foot; the trumpets stopped; he made a signal, and the old man was placed under the blade. A sort of clerk, half drunk, then appeared at the side of the " avenger of the people," and read with a hoarse voice a bulletin of the army of the Rhine and Moselle. At each paragraph the orchestra sounded a chord; and when the reading was concluded, the head of the wretched old man was stricken off amidst shouts of "Vive la republique!" repeated by the satellites of the ferocious Lebon. I shall never forget, nor can I adequately depict the impression of this horrible sight. I reached my father's house almost as lifeless as the miserable being whose agony had been so cruelly prolonged; and then I learnt that he was M. de Mongon, the old commandant of the citadel, condemned as an aristocrat. Memoirs of Eugène Vidocq (1829)

[shdo-xplosion]

PART ONE: STOCK

☼masterlist☼

warnings: captivity, restraints, briefly mentioned medical procedure (no detail), reader sees kendou in a scary situation, mentioned milking, mentioned forced pregnancy. 1.4k

notes: hiii! (◍•ᴗ•◍) was originally going to try to make all the parts really long and have less of them, but i changed my mind. i would rather have shorter chapters more often. hopefully it works out and everyone likes it ( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉﾟ(also I promise bkg shows up in the next part!!!!)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13

let me know if you would like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

Pain. All you feel is pain when you begin to wake. It’s in your head, in your chest, in your arms and legs, your guts.

Everything is blurry when you blink your eyes open, like some kind of film is covering them. Shadows move over you, but you aren’t able to make any of them out. Your foggy brain whispers to you, not safe, but when you try to move, you can’t, arms and legs locked in place.

It smells like something is burning, and you hope to whatever divine being exists that it isn’t you, but the prayer doesn’t last long as one of the figures looms closer, giving you the chance to see 2 red eyes before it raises a hand and expels some sort of powdery agent in your face.

Your world disappears again.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Coming to is a process. You doze in and out of a purgatory-like state for what could be anywhere from minutes to millennia, but once you’re fully awake, you are awake.

Your brain starts moving incredibly fast as you glance around. Unfamiliar surroundings, strange lighting. You can move your head and most of your upper body, but your hands are loosely restrained and your legs are firmly held in place by some kind of contraption. Off of the ground, some kind of table. You can feel the smooth surface on your bare back, like some type of metal, but it isn’t cold. In fact, the whole area is rather warm, one notch from uncomfortable.

There are various mechanisms attached to you, possibly monitors. A band around your head, something collar-esque around your neck, and you think you feel a mass in your ear.

Stretched across your chest is… you can’t tell if it’s another device or if it’s a garment. It might be both, especially considering how it’s perfectly fitted to your tits. The more you focus on it the more you can feel movement, little balls on little tracks that travel over your flesh in a strange sort of massage, gently but obviously kneading the plump tissue of your breasts. You go cross eyed staring down at it, eyebrows pinched in confusion as you try to examine the two tubes that sit right over your nipples.

You start growing faint as things click into place one by one. The creatures of this planet weren’t trying to kill you when they put you in that room. They just wanted to incapacitate you so they could get you in this position, and this position…

Arms by your side, legs held open… one word crosses your mind: breed.

They brought you here to breed you.

“K-Kendou!” Your voice is a hoarse whisper when you try to scream for your captain. You know there’s no point. You don’t see her anywhere in the room, but it’s all you can do for yourself.

What happened to her? To the rest of the crew? Did they take her hands? Did they rip Shinsou’s mask from his face? If they did, he would have had to be asleep for it. You’ve known the linguist for several years and never once have you seen him without the mod that covers his lower face. They would have taken all of Monoma’s weapons and Tetsu’s armor.

What have they taken from you so far? What have they already done to you? You vaguely remember a… surgery? Yes, a surgery. The burning smell. Nausea swirls in your stomach again. What did they take out of you? Or worse, what did they put in you?

“Kendou!” you try again. “Shinsou!”

Your voice dies in your own ears. All you can do is weep and tremble as you imagine all the horrible things that await you.

You’ve left your home planet. Said goodbye to your closest loved ones. Traveled into deep space. But you have never known fear like this before. You’re used to the fear that makes your mouth go dry and shoots you full of adrenaline, fear that gets your heart racing.

This fear isn’t like that. It weighs you down and fills the hollows of your bones. This fear makes you want to give up before even trying to fight.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

The alien you remember as the leader is the first you see. It glides into the room, sparing you a single glance and ignoring the way you begin to thrash against your restraints.

“Motherfucker, let me out! Let me out!”

It doesn’t seem fazed by your shrieking, just goes about checking a few things around the room, standing in one of your many blind spots. Odd sounds ring out behind you, clicking and hissing and distorted beeping. You wonder if there’s more machinery you can’t see, question answered when the confines around your wrists tighten without any touch from the alien. There must be some kind of control panel behind you, buttons and screens that control your fate.

“Kendou! Where is Kendou?” you shout.

Pacing back into your line of vision, the alien tilts its head. The hair-like strands that frame its face are long and dark, a little unkempt, and it looks to be missing its right eye, a thick, ghastly scar in its place.

Reaching up, the creature touches its ear then motions at you with its huge hand, almost like it… wants you to speak again?

“K-Kendou?” you try. “My captain. The other female.”

You’re probably deluding yourself into thinking it understands, but then you hear a faint crackle in your ear, and the mass you noticed earlier suddenly makes sense as the alien begins speaking and you actually comprehend what it’s saying.

The words you hear don’t match up with its mouth, and you can still make out the harsh grunts of its native tongue. Very guttural and heavy on what you know as consonants, but whatever device that’s been placed in your ear translates it all for you.

Alive. In another pod. Would you like to see her?

“Yes!”

Your stupid little pea brain hoped that meant being freed and allowed to find her. Ridiculous. Instead the alien raises an arm, a holographic image popping up over it. You squint at it despite the picture being perfectly clear and see Kendou in a predicament much like your own except… worse.

As you assumed, her bionic parts are nowhere to be seen, her natural hands limp and weak and shriveled as they always have been. She’s locked onto the same table as you, tied at the arms, legs spread, chest covered. The difference is that she is in use.

Longer tubes are connected to her chest, spiraling out of view, but what you can see of them are white save for the occasional air bubble that travels along.

“Jesus Fucking…” your stomach churns dangerously. She’s being milked.

Even worse than that is the thing between her legs. You have no earthly idea what it is, a jointed pole with something on the end that’s level with her pelvis, and you can only see so much of it because the rest is inside of her, almost as if it’s plugging her up.

And, it just might be because she is unnaturally, disgustingly full. Tears roll down your cheeks as you stare at how swollen her stomach is.

How long have you been here now? How long were you unconscious? It looks like she’s several months pregnant already, though not with a human child. There’s something else inside of her, some kind of parasite that they put there, and it could be growing very, very fast.

“m’gonna throw up,” you blurt, shoulders beginning to roll as you heave.

It’s too much. This is too much. You’re nothing more than cattle to these creatures. And for what? Why would they want to blend species?

Saliva pools in your mouth, and you feel the muscles in your stomach contracting—your stomach that will soon be bulging with a monster’s spawn—but before you can actually purge, the alien above you places a hand on your belly and all of the nausea disappears.

You have no idea what these aliens are capable of, how much power they have, but from what you’ve seen you already know that you don’t stand a chance.

2023©️shidou-x. please do not plagiarize or report my work to any other platforms.