#I didn't realise until now just how many people I have to tag for this gifset

[lessi-lover]

teenage drama II k.cooney-cross x russo!reader ~

(did you miss me cause i missed you) maybe a series 😉 ... but you'll never know? #even pests need love!

★ teenage drama II k.cooney-cross x russo!reader

your sister smirked cheekily as she expertly dribbled the ball past your much smaller legs, slotting it effortlessly in the net a laugh falling from her curled lips as she turned back to see you flinging your head back in defeat.

"lessi please can we play something else? football is so boring!" you groaned, tugging on your sister's arm before she went to collect the ball to play again. "i dare hear those words come out your mouth again! or you'll be banned from movie night, you hear me!" she threatened with a wag of her finger.

the blonde knew just how much you loved movie night, lately it had become one of her many threats to her easily gullible enough sister once she realised how she could manipulate so simply. she didn't really have that kind of power but it was fun for your older sister to feel as high and mighty as her older brothers seemed to be.

your older sister who would make you run around the garden until you both collapsed on the ground in tired smiles, your mother calling out from inside that dinner was ready, the older woman chuckling as she watched you finally catch a breath.

your older sister who would pick your tiny frame off the ground and into her arms as she carried you inside to the table, shaking you out of your sleep as you dozed of in her hold. your older sister who would beg you to join the games night after dinner she had planned for weeks only to fall asleep in your bed the second you dragged her off to your room.

it was safe to say being the youngest russo was easily the most dangerous spot at the table, although your older siblings always argued that the love you recieved as the last grandchild was surely enough to make up for the countless unwanted tackles and jabs you copped from them.

being dubbed as "the nice one" you tried your best to stay out of the russo family wrestling matches, seemingly always the first to attempt breaking your older brothers out of quite literally clashing each others heads together, your older sister only spurring them on as she cheered from beside a worried you.

"go gio go! watch out for his arms you git!" she would squeal moving to jump on top of the sofa quickly out of the way as luca grabbed his younger brother in a headlock, the both of them rolling around all over the floor.

sure you and alessia fought not much differently to your brothers and not much differently to those of your friends, when the older girl would force you to play football with her for hours on end, as she sliced the ball past you almost taking your head with it.

and sure the england forward could make you think twice before telling her your weekend plans to see some of your mates when she would then proceed to show up with her own friends blasting the loudest music you'd ever heard. a shout from her car that "your lift had arrived!" embarrassing you to no end as she cheekily waved you over.

it was not long after that incident that you got your finally your own car three years later and suddenly your lifts from the older blonde were not required, so the blonde had decided you now needed to have a coffee date every sunday to catch up with her younger sister.

although a childhood friend of hers always tagged along and that saved you enough to not have to hear her boastful stories in your ear ever five seconds, though you claimed the older girl hyped herself up just to get on your nerves.

and even if the clumsy girl could be the biggest pain in your ass on a good day, you really did love your her and people would say the two of you would do anything for each other, to the ends of the earth they would say.

but she really could be a pain in your ass.

~

like right now.

"alessia i know how to be an adult! i don't need you on my ass every five seconds!" you seethed. crossing your arms moodily over your chest, ignoring her offer of a piece of gum and focussing on the cars speeding past.

"helicopter parent you are." you mumbled under your breath, smacking away her attempt to give you a hug with a huff. "i heard that!" she whined, giving you an amused smile as she continued driving home.

you sighed looking out the window, your eyes following the curves and edges of each familiar house as you drove past. "okay i'm sorry. can you forgive me!" she grinned with a pout, gripping your wrist over the console as she dragged out her words.

"fine but only because i owe you a coffee and this will cover the cost." you answered begrudgingly, pinching her arm to let go as the blonde let out a cheer and turned the volume of the music up.

you had never enjoyed football growing up, you knew your interests lay elsewhere from a young age. so whilst your siblings played rough house with each other in the garden, you preferred to spend time on your own. tucked away inside with a book often whilst your mother made dinner, the older woman listening to any and every thought of your for hours on end.

and as your siblings weekends began filling with games and tournaments, you now sat in the crowd still buried in your book, head lifting every so often when you would hear your father's loud cheers. different matches every saturday, travelling to the far ends of the country to support your siblings, but no matter how far you were always there for them.

when your sister had made the move over to states, you'd missed her greatly and if it wasn't for your brothers convincing that you needed to focus on your studies you were confident you would have nearly failed your last exams.

it wasn't long before you finished your final exams that you made the decision to move over to london to start your career in the business world. suddenly things began to become clearer, you knew your path lay elsewhere from your siblings.

your passion for business and entrepreneurship had been a driving force throughout your studies, and the opportunity to start your career in london was too good to pass up.

you'd of course settled in easily to the busy life of living in london, smoothly finding your feet as you were quick to immerse yourself in the fast work environment, joining a large company which offered you the chance to learn from experienced entrepreneurs.

now back to present day, you still hadn't taken your older sisters advice to finally take being part of a footballing family in your stride and you were still adamant that your days of kicking footballs with the blonde in the garden were long behind you.

it was through your company that you were able to secure a job at adidas by leveraging your experience from your previous company and network in the business world.

your reputation for innovative thinking and partnerships caught the attention of adidas' acquisition team, who were seeking fresh individuals for their corporate division. it was only after a series of successful collaborations which drove impactful projects, you were offered a high role within the company.

however things looked a lot different now, your sister had now finally moved back from the states and moved through the ranks to what she described as one of the top teams in europe, her training grounds only a mere fifteen minute drive from your apartment.

but given your new company's strong connections with many football teams, you found yourself collaborating with arsenal, or more familiar to you; your sisters club.

failing to realise how much of a pain your sister still was you had offered to help coordinate an event for the team, told by your marketing director to bring your skills to the table.

"right we're here grumpy pants, do you want my jacket in the back? bloody freezing this morning." she grumbled, zipping up her own jacket as she turned the engine off.

"no i'll be fine thanks." you replied, giving your sister a cheeky smile as you stepped out of the car. you pulled your scarf tighter around your neck and looked around at the different fields.

"you look so funny!" you giggled, tugging on your sisters clothing all branded by her club. "oh shush." she hummed, playfully swatting your hands away with a smile. "you're just as annoying as i remember!" she grinned down at you, the blonde easily a few feet taller than you.

"can't say i don't remember younger you at all!" you said sarcastically. pulling up your phone to show her your lock screen, your background a photo of the two of you in the backseat of the car, probably driving off to one of her games out west.

you laughed all the way into the building, unable to contain yourself when the forward pushed on a so clearly labeled pull door and smashed into the glass, causing her to almost topple over.

"less! are you alright?" you questioned, trying to stifle your laughter as as a red mark appeared on her forehead, your sister with a pout on her face. "oh less." you chuckled, watching as your sisters frown deepened.

you reached out to inspect the mark, still trying not to laugh as much as you wanted to. "stop laughing!" she whined, looking a little embarrassed as she made eye contact with her teammates coming through the entrance. "it was an accident okay! my heads sore now."

"okay sorry, i'm sorry!" you apologised, finally able to suppress your giggles. "do you need ice or something?" you asked, pulling the clumsy girl off the floor. "i'll be alright, come on let's go inside."

"well good morning miss russo times two!" you bumped into lotte as you arrived, all of you entering the building at the same time. "lotts!" you squealed, jumping into the older girls arms as she lifted you off the ground.

"tiny! haven't seen you in ages, how's london treating you then?" she asked. the three of you fell into conversation as if no time had passed since you'd seen your sister's best friend.

"but i won't forget the time you made me pick you and gracie up from the dock, the two of you were completely shit faced!" she laughed, reminding you of the time you and a couple of friends maybe not so accidently drank way too much at a party and drunkenly called lotte to uber you home.

"my learning curve was thinking beer and liquor would mix nicely." you winced, thinking back to the hours after the party that lotte spent holding your hair back as you emptied your stomach. "fun night that was." in hindsight it probably wasn't the best start to your last year at school, but it was an easy excuse to not ever get that drunk again.

"yeah pretty fun night until i was woken up in the middle of the night to you and lotte at my window." your sister grumbled, clearly not as amused by the memory as you and lotte. she shrugged her jacket off up in her locker whilst you sat down on the bench.

"oh don't be a grub. can't forget when you and tooney had big night down in london." you chuckled, referring to the time her and the mancunian came home at four in the morning after having taken their first night out in the city.

"mum's got the patience of a saint." the two of you shared a look at that before bursting into a fit of laughter. pulling yourself up from the bench to grab your sister into a tight hug, your bond ran so deep. "i missed this tiny." she spoke into your hair, not missing beth's smile over your shoulders.

"oi russo who's the new lass?" a girl you recognised from your sisters instagram walked over, as you broke away from the hug. "katie meet my sister, she's here on behalf of adidas for a marketing event." the blonde introduced you as a few more girls floated into the locker room.

"nice to meet ya." she smiled, her accent thick as ever. "likewise." you answered, easily falling into a conversation about what you did at college, the irish girl interested in your role at the company.

lotte and alessia shared a look as they too fell into check as katie sat down with you. you watched as katie grinned over your head, clearly smiling at another teammate as you heard them behind you. "look who finally showed!" she chuckled as three girls entered the room, one of them tucking themself into her side.

you couldn't help but let your eyes draw to the youngest of the three as they put their stuff down, there was something captivating about her energy and you couldn't quite place it. that or the fact that she was easily the closest in age to you and downright the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.

caught in your thoughts, you barely even noticed the look that your sister and lotte shared over your head. "awfully chipper this morning, love." she joked as the girl grumpily rested her head onto katie's shoulder, seemingly not have had a great sleep last night. "not my fault dean was away and steph can't handle the pest on her own." she mumbled tiredly, glaring at a younger girl who you gathered was sitting next to steph who looked equally as tired.

"this is cait, arsenal superstar, australian international and most importantly my girlfriend." katie explained, kissing the top of caitlin's head before a hand pushed her face away. "shut up," caitlin giggled as she pulled herself closer.

"hi i'm caitlin nice to meet you, you're alessia's sister aren't you?" she spoke and you nodded back. "yeah that's me." you smiled, shaking her hand as she extended it. "less hasn't stopped talking about you all week, think she's more excited i'm here than i am," you chuckled.

"only good things i hope!" katie said back as your sister sat back down next to you. "mostly good things." you teased as alessia swatted your arm. "tiny best get a move on before those two show you a washing demo!" lotte said, patting your head hearing you laugh.

"not a pest." the younger girl grinned as she came back, arms firmly crossed as she moved across the room, flicking both katie and caitlin. "such a pest" caitlin groaned, as she winked at you.

"you must be kyra." you deduced, recognising the unmistakable australian accent, your sister having described the girls when you met for coffee earlier this week.

"one and only! you're less' sisters aren't you, been looking forward to meeting you." she smirked and caught off guard you couldn't help but blush at her forwardness, but before your cheeks could redden further you caught katie's eyes as she grinned.

but your attention was quickly elsewhere as kyra pulled steph's bun out of it's elastic before grabbing her in a headlock. "quick take it!" kyra shrieked as steph tried to grab her, her hand brushing yours as she tried to give you the elastic.

the australian so easily drew you in like a moth to a flame as her touch lingered on your hands sending a shiver down your spine as you heard her laugh, you couldn't help but wonder if she had done it intentionally.

you felt your breath get caught in your throat as your cheeks once again reddened and you struggled to stay focussed on what your sister was saying. kyra grasped for help with her attractive smile as steph took her down on the floor, the blonde begging for your help as your connected hands brought you both crashing to the ground.

pulling yourself off the blonde you sat up against the wall, herself with a smug grin as you were left alone on the ground. steph having been fed up and walked off the rest of the girls still conversing after a long two weeks apart.

"well, seems we have made friends with the floor." she giggled and you knocked your arm against her with a smile. "seems so." you agreed, the two of you falling into conversation.

perhaps it was the blondes cheeky smile that lured you towards her, or maybe it was the way she seemed so eager to meet you, or even the way her fingers so easily grazed over your own or the warmth that disappeared with them.

~

[satansbiggestkinnie]

𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐩 ꒰NSFW + FLUFF꒱

Author's note: I'll make the side characters as soon as possible. I sometimes like to update this and the period headcanons. Also,GENDER NEUTRAL READER SUPREMACY !1!1!1!1!1

WARINGS!: SEXUAL CONTENT,RIDING (Lucifer),THIGH RIDING (Mammon),BOTTOM MC(Mammon,Lucifer),TOP MC (Levi,Mammon,Asmo),ANGRY/ROUGH SEX (Satan),DEGRADATION BUT ALSO PRAISE (Lucifer),DIRYY TALK (Mammon),DEGRADATION (MC to Leviathan) ,GRINDING,POWER BOTTOM ASMO

Featuring: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

Tags: Fluff,Lime,and Smut

Word count: 1889

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Lucifer:

✿- Bit startled by you and your courage,but he's beyond delighted.

• Plays music while you sit on his lap,you might even drink tea with him. If you're not clumsy.

• You also help him with paperwork. You'll probably fall asleep (force him to sleep,MC! You got this!!!).

• Strokes you hair,and kisses your neck from the back,he might distract.

• Speaking of distracting people,if he takes a quick breath from paperwork (like blinking and signing),it might be longer than usual,he has a stunning human right on him.

• Thinks you're the absolute cutest when you throw your arms on his shoulders• His hot breath makes it all the more calmer and relaxing there

• Might rest his chin on your shoulders.

• Grabs your hip with his spare hand and squeezes it softly.

• Cute lil neck kisses.

• "Hey,Luci,I finished this..." he realises he's been staring at you. "Have you been staring at me?" You giggled and kissed his cheek.

❦- Now, on a more unholy note (ya'll need christ/j),he'd probably kiss your neck,not letting you make a sound.

• He'll bite your neck and whisper dirty shit in your ears.

• He'll probably suck and/or lick on your nipples.

• He also likes degradation,but also praise. "Aren't you such a little slut for my cock? But that lewd face you make for me is so cute. My little slut."

• He especially degrades when he's slamming his cock into your ass (if you're a women,your tight little cunt).

• It'll be even worse if you tease him and try to get off. He'll make you grind on him even harder.

• Make take off your clothes and make you ride him. Then keep his cock warm for him? He might give you a special treat after that.

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Mammon:

✿- This cute motherfucker was so startled when you just ploped your but on his lap.

• He panicked for a second,you decided to get off,until he stopped you. He gently grabbed your wrist. "Wait...can ya, please stay? Just for a bit? It's not like I want ya to be here! You'd be honoured to.." You didn't let him finish. You sat on his lap once more and kissed him,whispering words of affirmation into his ears.

• He buried his face into your chest,almost wanting to kiss it.

• You like to watch movies on his lap. You pepper his face with kisses while the blush on his face is more red than Lord Diavolo's hair. He hides his smile (good thing,he would put the sun to SHAME!!!).

• Gets so flustered when you turn to face him. Even more when you kiss him and put your arms around his shoulders.

• Please do this in front of his brothers. Do it for cute Mammon and his voice actor.

❦- You ride his thigh,creating friction for yourself. He makes you beg for his cock. "Ple-please Ma-mm. Ngh!" He'll deny you his cock.

• He just loves how he makes you squirm in his lap,it makes his ego even bigger than it already is.

• "Oi...getting so worked up over the great Mammon. I haven't even touched ya." And even more dirty talk.

• You make him so wet when you kiss him so roughly and get on top of him in bed,grinding on him in an even rougher manner then when you were on his lap. He thinks it's so hot.

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Leviathan:

• You had been spending your day with the other brothers. They had so many things to do. Shopping with Asmo,gambling with Mammon,reading with Satan,and helping Lucifer. And sleeping with Belphie didn't help you at all. Meanwhile,Levi was gaming alone again. You were supposed to be gaming with him. You weren't giving him enough attention. So you came to Levi,exhausted. You sat next to him.

• "Hey,Levi..." he didn't answer,he looked annoyed. You cuddled up to him. He blushed,but he attempted to look irritated. Despite the fact you were way too tired,you decided to ask him what's wrong,being the loving partner you are. "Levi...? What's wrong?" Apparently he was giving you the silent treatment. "Levi. Give me attention." You sleepily protested. "I want to hug you. Please give me kisses." He opened his mouth. "Really? I'm surprised you don't want kisses from Mammon." Despite the fact he sounded annoyed and mad,you could hear a tinge of sadness in his voice. "What?" Before he could talk,you sat on his lap and kissed him. "You're my boyfriend. I love ..LEVI???"

• Levi faints.

• He barely heard your last words before going unconscious.

• Ugh,he's so baby girl.

• But,once he regains consciousness,he's so flustered. Poor baby doesn't know what to do!

• He hugs you and buries his face into your chest.

• ANIME,GAMING,ANIME,LOOKING AT HENRY 2.0

• He "accidentally" wrapped his tail around you.

• He's so happy when you're laying your head on his chest while you two watch anime or game,and when he wraps his tail around you,he's as close to you as he possibly could be. He's been to heaven,but by god,this so much better.

• Levi is getting the love he deserves, but if MC is overly affectionate and giving him all the hugs and kisses in a different way,weeeeeel

❦-"M-MC..." his controller is on the floor. "Shh,love." You decided to tease him by grinding against his cock. "M-MC! F-fuck! Please!" He wrapped his tail around you.

• You shushed. You lightly degraded him. "Yucky otaku. Don't talk when I don't tell you to." You took off his shirt and licked his nipples. "Beg for it." "M-MC! N- ngh!" "Use your words." To be continued :D

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Satan:

• Satan was reading a book,as usual,and you wanted attention,so you brought in hot cocoa for him after taking a sip of yours. You handed it to him and held yours. "Thank you,de..." Then you plopped yourself on his lap and layed your head on his chest,and put your hand on his chest.

• He questioned your actions,being the logical person he is. You explained that you thought his lap looked comfy. He chuckled for a moment,then went back to reading. With a smile on his face.

• He makes sure you're as close to him as possible. He pulls you to him. If questioned,he will say,"I want you to be warm and comfortable,love.

• Satan also wraps his tail around you. But he tries to be careful since his tail is basically armour. But occasionally,his tail might brush against your face.

• Kisses your head.

• Loves it when you read together on his lap. He feels like a true gentleman.

❦- Alright,onto nsfw. If he feels like teasing you,he might try to overestimulate,he might tease you and force you to read out loud while he has his dick in your ass (or cunt). He might even get on top of you and slam and pound himself into you.

• Rough sex real with Satan real.

• He leaves scratches on you and cherishes the scratches that you made.

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Asmodeus:

• While he is the sin of Lust,he loves romantic things! Haha,trick statement,you should've known that.

• But moving on from my pet peeve of people making Asmo horny and only horny,he is absolutely delighted!

• Honestly,you're both surprised you weren't in his lap sooner.

• He playfully asks you what you're planning,but he's very much enjoying himself.

• He wraps his arms around your waist cause he wants to hug your back.

• If you like makeup,he puts it on you while you're facing him. He would like you to put makeup on him,even if you aren't good.

• Will leave lipstick marks on your face and more.

• Honestly, everywhere. Lips,cheeks,hands,chest,don't you dare make a foot joke.

• Will play with your hair.

❦- He has a long tongue,and he will use it. Your nipples will he wet,and so will your sex.

• Likes it if you push yourself on top of him,while being the power bottom he is.

• Either praise him or degrade him,he just wants your lustful touch.

• "MC,hun... please touch me. I'm all yours."

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Beelzebub:

• You had just brought him food,a burger. But while you were giving it to him,you noticed your lap. It was so big and empty... better to snatch it before anyone else does!

• He thanks you,and as soon as you sit in his lap,his arms instinctly hug your waist. He makes sure to hug you tightly. He can't lose another person. Don't die.

• God,I love him.

• Feeds you food. He tries his best not to leave crumbs on you.

• You have whole-ass picnics on his lap. No,actually,you sat on his lap when you two were having a picnic. Probably with the brothers.

• Keeps you warm.

• He rocks you on his lap.

• Face him and kiss him,please.

❦- I headcanon Beel as asexual,and I think it would take a bit more to rile him up. So,I think you would have to praise him a bit and maybe tell him you want to sleep with him.

• He blushes and kisses you,using his tongue to explore every part of your mouth. He'll lick and suck your nipples.

• He'll grind onto your sex.

• Three words: soft dom Beel.

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

Belphegor:

• "MC." He lazily called your name out. "Come here." You knew he was going to pull you in for cuddling,so decided to help him. You sat on his lap. He paused for a moment,not speaking. Then, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. His sleeves were covering most of his hands,so it was a cute sight. "More. This is nice." His lazy way of saying,"Do this more."

• He'll find a way to sleep,he always does.

• Takes a nap on your shoulder

• He loves it when you lay your head on his chest or his shoulders.

• HUG THE PLUSHIES WHILE YOUR SITTING ON HIS LAP!!! Those plushies are basically your children. He will use that against his brothers.

• "Well,we have children,so...haha losers."

• Draws and/or sews with you if you'd like that.

• Nuzzles his face into your neck.

• This is just a new type of cuddling for him, to be honest.

• Once eat chocolate chip muffins with you on his lap.

❦- He tells you to be even louder to make sure everyone hears who's human you are.

• Kisses and sucks the sweet spot on your neck,leaving marks.

• He doesn't let your orgasm release until he says so,if you release before he tells you,then there might be a punishment.

• He's more than happy when you ride him

─────── ꒰ ✿ ꒱ ───────

[mickeyswhore]

Foreign Beauty

A/N: Might get in a silly goofy mood and write a part 2, let me know if I should. 💕

Summary: After your father made you attend Oxford, you took a detour during the holidays to Birmingham and there you met Thomas Shelby, and the two of you got pulled towards one another.

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: toxic father, smut (a little bit though)

Tag: @mrkdvidal1989.

You hated your father now, he made you go to Oxford university. You wanted to only live in 

Paris and be able to just live your life and buy pretty dresses and have fun with your friends, but not now, you needed to be in a gloomy town with people that can’t even dress properly and that made you angry.

“Father, if you insist on me getting an education why not Paris? We already have a place there.” You had no idea why your father wanted you to pursue an education, it was only a matter of time until you were married off for an alliance anyway.

“You cannot be just a ditsy woman that only thinks about what’s on her body, you must feed your mind. End of discussion.” With that your father left you and you went to your room to cry.

How could he do this to you? Wasn’t enough that he was a criminal and you could never bring your friends to where he was? The fact that your mother left and he never allowed for you to have a relationship with her? Every single thing about your life was about your father, and no doubt that he wanted bragging rights to all of his associates of how he had his only daughter to attend Oxford.

If you had to do this, you wouldn’t be caught dead in British clothes. You told your father that you would get a new wardrobe with the latest Parisian fashion, if you can’t change your father’s mind, you would definitely make his wallet hurt. That was exactly what you did, went to Paris and ordered a whole new wardrobe to all of the fashion houses that you could think of. Your father was furious but didn't want to say anything, as  long as you were going to university, nothing else mattered to him.

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

The boat trip to Cardiff was long and dreadful, and to make things even worse it was raining in Wales, as usual. Your father’s men were waiting for you, and you had so many suitcases that it filled both cars. People in England took their time to stare at you, it always happened, you would never brag but your were a pretty woman in a pretty dress in gloomy Wales, people will stare. You got into the car and waited for your father’s men to be done with loading the cars.

The drive was boring and it was raining in most places, so you decided to take a nap. You woke up with commotion in the car and two of the men were fighting in the front of the car.

“What is happening?” You realised that the car was stopped, and the other two men were outside in the rain trying to fix it.

“Sorry, ma’am but the car broke down and we are nowhere near Oxford, we’re in Birmingham.” You saw a map pf England once and was confused, these are the men that your father employs? You took a deep breath and grabbed your umbrella and left the car, there seemed to be a pub nearby. “Wait, ma’am where you’re going?” One of the men tried to stop you but you kept walking.

“It’s cold, it’s raining and I saw a pub here. Could you please let me know when we can go?” He nodded and you kept walking towards the pub. When you entered the smell of cigars and booze hits your nostrils, and the warmth as well, it wasn’t that crowed so you simply took a booth and removed your very expensive fur coat.

You bought a drink and again all of the men and women were staring at you and you needed to get used to it. You were starting to get bored, maybe going back to the car was the best option. When you were about to leave, both doors were opened and a few men came in, they must be important since everyone got out of their way, you saw the one with the biggest blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life and the man was incredibly attractive.

The man noticed you quite fast since you were the only one staring at him, quite unabashedly as well. He went to your table and sat down right in front of him, with a grin on his face, that made you smile.

“Never seen you here before.” You smiled, never having the opportunity to interact with people that weren’t from your father’s circle. “I would’ve noticed if I seen you here before, who are you love?” He seemed genuinely interested and you were basking on the attention. You said your name to the man.

“We lost our way to Oxford and the car broke down so I decided to come here and be warm with a drink. May I ask who you are?” You took a sip of your drink and the two of you couldn’t stop smiling at each other.

“I’m Thomas Shelby. Pleased to meet you.” He extended his hand and you shook it, and the two of you couldn’t deny that you felt something when the two of you touched. “Would you like another drink, love?” You nodded and Thomas went to get your drink, after he came back, he sat down near you.

“You’re quite forward, aren’t you Mr. Shelby?” You grinned at him and he seemed very pleased with himself.

“I have to, with a foreign beauty like yourself, someone might steal you away.” Thomas was being coy, he knew that no one would dare to talk to you with him there, but he wanted to make you feel special and also acknowledge the fact tht all of the men wanted to be with you.

“You don’t have faith that you are the most interesting?” You quickly realised that you love to tease Thomas Shelby.

“I know that I am, it simply might not be the case for you.” He wasn’t boring, you had to give him that and also confident, a man has never looked as attractive as he is now.

“Touche, Mr. Shelby.”

The two of you started talking about other things, politics mainly. But also art, and history. You were much younger than Thomas but he didn't mind it all and you loved the fact that he was older, mature and most importantly, confident.

The two of you were touching each other, his hand were on your thigh and your hand in his arm as well. The tension between the two of you was getting worse, the two of you even stopped talking just to keep looking at each other and touching each other. Thomas leaned into your ear, sending shirvers down your spine.

“Should we go somewhere more private, love?” He whispered in your ear and you only nodded, guiding him towards the bathroom.

When the two of you got there, Thomas put you against the wall and started to kiss you. His kiss was full of hunger and passion and you were more than happy to indulge him, you needed this too. Thomas started removing your dress and you removed his shirt, you were only dressed in your undergarments now, and Thomas still had his trousers. He started kissing your neck, drawing moans out of you.

Your hands went to his cock, he was painfully hard and you could tell that he was painfully hard. Thomas removed your bra without you even noticing, you felt his warm lips on your nipple, making you moan, with one of his hands Thomas started playing with your other nipple. His tongue felt like heaven on one nipple and his fingers were twisting and pulling the other, you were panting and moaning. You’ve never felt this way before, your pussy was clenching around nothing and you were so wet. The pressure on your pussy was increasing with every lick of one nipple and the pulling of the other.

“Tommy.” You whispered and a strangled moan espcaped your throat, Thomas stopped his ministrations and looked at you, he had the smugest look on his face.

“Did you just cum from me just playing with your nipples, love?” Thomas’ hands removed your panties and he started fingering you and playing with your clit. You closed your eyes from how much pleasure you were receiving but he was having none of it. “Keep your eyes on me, love.” That’s what you did, you’ve met this man a couple hours ago and he already had so much power over you. With his thumb making small circles on your clit and two fingers deep inside your pussy, Thomas wanted to make you cum as quick as he possibly could. “You look divine like this, love. I need you to cum for me. Can you do that, eh?” The noises that were being made were lewd, if you could think straight you would definitely be embarrassed by them.

As if Thomas has full control of your body, you cum again, Thomas enjoys the feeling of your pussy clenching around his fingers, he couldn’t wait to fuck you. Thomas was helping you ride out your second orgasm when you heard yelling coming from outside, the two of you looked at each other and out your clothes back on in a matter of seconds.

“What is going on ‘ere?” Thomas yelled, and the men that were with him fighting with your father’s men, you slapped Thomas’ men hoping they would stop assaulting your employees.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” One of father’s men asked you, clearly terrified that something happened to you.

“Of course, is the car ready?” All four of them nodded and if this wasn’t a sign for you to stop doing something you’d later regret, you don’t know what is.

You were about to leave when Thomas stopped you with a gentle pull of your arm.

“Leaving so soon, love?” He seemed almost sad that you were leaving, that made you smile.

“I’m going to Oxford university, if you want me come get me when you can.” You winked at him and he smirked at you.

He was going to get you, alright. With that, you left the pub to the car.

[peacefulpianist]

The Green Dress

Loki x Fem. Reader (no y/n)

Wow hi everyone, I can't say I ever thought I would be doing this, but I've written something! I've been an avid reader for a few years now and have finally convinced myself to give it a shot. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please do bear in mind this is the first thing I've written since year 8 English that isn't an academic paper of sorts. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

I'm tagging a few members of the SAS who I think may like this? But if you want to be removed please do let me know - no hard feelings at all : @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @wheredafandomat @liminalpebble

Description: When Stark invites you last minute to one of his infamous parties, you've not got many options on hand to wear until Nat suggests you wear the green dress you had bought months ago. Perhaps it will be enough to inspire a certain god to finally make his move.

w/c: 4.2k whoops I didn't intend for it to be nearly this long

My Masterlist

“How many times do I need to tell you that you absolutely can not do that Stark!” You exclaimed in exasperation over the cluttered lab table once more.

“But if I just ignored that little thing-” the glare you sent from over the top of your glasses quickly shut his remark down before it could continue any further. Looking contrite, but rather worryingly still determined, Stark pushed back from the table, going slightly further than expected in his chair and trying to style it out as intentional as he almost collided into several rather important projects. 

“Well since you’ve thoroughly pooped on that party Brainiac, I’m declaring we call it a day here, and hey speaking of parties, you are coming later aren’t you?” He asked whilst trying not to fall of his chair and catching a rather dangerous looking item falling off one of the nearby tables he had knocked into. 

A wave of panic washed through you at the mention of the event later; you had been hoping that as no one had specifically invited you to it, only mentioned it in passing, that you would be able to give it a miss unnoticed. It wasn’t that you disliked Starks events or even parties in general, you just happened to be aware of who else would be there and definitely couldn’t trust yourself to keep up a front with the copious alcohol that would no doubt find its way into your system. Not that you were totally innocent in how it found its way there. You had been hoping to avoid a direct invitation like this, purely because you had a real issue saying no to people, especially those you liked and admired. It was because of this, and only this - not the fact you would get to see Loki in one of his impeccably tailored suits again as a helpful voice in your head supplied, that you found yourself blurting out the following. 

“Uh yeah sure, of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world boss!” 

You had hoped that it had come out in a convincing tone, but the slight frown emerging on Starks face said otherwise. However, as quick as it had appeared on his face it was gone, replaced by a trademark smile as he slapped his thighs and stood.

“Well then, you better be off to prepare and polish your elbows, or whatever it is you ladies manage to do to fill so much time getting ready before these events,” his face quickly faltered after realising what he had actually just said and quickly followed up with “not saying of course that it isn’t absolutely worth it, especially if Pepper asks”. 

In an effort to allow Tony to leave the interaction without digging himself an even deeper hole, you stood too, gathering your bag as you went, giving a slightly awkward wave over your shoulder as you walked out the door. 

It was only when you made it back to your room upstairs that you fully understood what you had actually agreed to. Not only were you going to have to be in the same room as Loki, desperately trying to hide your feelings towards him, whilst watching him flirt with practically everyone in attendance, but also work out what the hell you were going to wear to a party at such short notice. Unlike many of the other inhabitants of the tower, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly equipped for these kinds of events. You had always preferred to skip out on anything that required this level of formal wear, the comfort of your staple jeans and a hoody was something you had always chosen over the tighter fitting, more formal attire required at Stark’s parties. 

In a somewhat unhelpful move, you decided that putting off the outfit dilemma was the best course of action, as a frantic full-body shower was needed, and of course there was no point choosing an outfit before you’d done your hair and makeup after the shower as well. You had told yourself that the outfit choices could be mulled over during this time as well, but realistically knew that you were just lying to yourself and would inevitably put it off until the last moment. 

A frantic search of your wardrobe, which involved many an outfit being taken out, only to be thrown into the rejection pile on the floor moments later, left you coming up short and in the middle of a ring of discarded outfits whilst still in just your towel. You sank to the floor, just staring despondently at the chaos around you, contemplating whether Tony would actually notice if you didn’t go after all. 

It was in that state exactly that Nat found you minutes later after she had knocked, not waited for an answer and entered anyway, only to stop in her tracks and abandon whatever purpose she had come with upon seeing you in such a state. 

“Well that outfit is sure to grab everyone’s attention, not what I would choose personally but good for you girl!” Nat said with a smirk, leaning on your doorframe.

“Don’t even start with that right now, I wasn’t planning on going to this until and hour ago, and I appear to have greatly underestimated my wardrobe deficiencies. Some actual help right now would be greatly appreciated.” Your reply came from the floor, all hope of being able to avoid Stark’s shindig fading with the sound of the door closing behind Natasha. 

“I’m sure your so called deficiency isn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be,” her voice somewhat muffled as she rooted through what was left of your clothes in you’re wardrobe. 

“I mean look right here, what was wrong with this option, it’s even green, perfect to catch you-know-who’s attention!” The smile on her face dropped when she turned to face you, brandishing the green dress you had bought months ago on a whim when out with some friends, only to realise you would never be comfortable enough to wear it out in public when you had tried it on at home later that evening. 

“Woah, what’s so wrong with this one that it makes you pull that face? It’s a stunning dress I can’t see what you could possibly have against this one, its perfect for tonight.” Nat questioned with a confused frown, after seeing the vehement refusal on your face at the suggestion. 

“It is a beautiful dress, just not on me, I don’t-” before you could even finish the thought, Nat had pulled you up, and was pushing you quite forcefully back towards the bathroom, throwing you in there along with the dress and your raciest, laciest underwear that you hadn’t even seen her grab.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, you should know better than to speak like that about one of my closest friends by now, by the time I’m back after getting changed myself, I want you wearing that dress so I can prove to you how wrong you are when you see everyone’s faces when we walk in later” Nate reply was somewhat muffled behind the bathroom door, but the fierceness, and her love for you, was still conveyed perfectly through the wood. 

“Besides if it truly makes you feel that bad after wearing it tonight, we’ll burn it together tomorrow, I’m not having you keeping it if its going to make you feel this way whenever you see it.” The finality in her tone and promise of being able to get rid of the thing tomorrow was enough to get you to follow her orders, that alongside the fact that you were still rather scared of her, even after having been friends with her for a few years now. 

With Natasha momentarily gone, it gave you the chance to ruminate in your thoughts, the dress was truly stunning, a deep emerald green that displayed your decolletage beautifully, with a daring slit from ankle to high up on your thigh. While you could see that the dress itself was objectively great, when it was you wearing it, it didn’t seem that way anymore. Instead of being able to focus on all of the ways it could highlight your beauty, all you could see was the way the closer fit of the dress clung to your stomach slightly, and how the slit showed off your thighs, and just seemed to emphasise how big they were. 

It was in this downward spiral that Nat found you in upon her return, a frown once again set on her face as when she saw the malice behind your eyes, directed solely at yourself. 

The way you could only ever focus on the parts of yourself that you saw as problems had always hurt Natasha, and how it impacted the way you behaved as well. It wasn’t just a matter of wearing baggier clothes that covered your insecurities, but the way you let it decide where you belonged socially. She was intimately familiar with your growing feelings towards a certain god of mischief who had taken up residence in the tower little over a year earlier, but also with your pessimistic view towards your chances of the feelings being reciprocated. Ever since you had realised that your feelings were more than that of just friendship you had immediately resigned yourself to remaining in the friend zone, refusing to believe that he would ever see you as something more because “he’s a god and I’m, well, I mean just look at me.” Nat had tried countless times to reassure you that the way you saw yourself, was not in fact the way others saw you, but had also at this point come to the understanding that your self perception wasn’t based in logic, and reasoning as such wasn’t going to make enough of an impact to change how you saw yourself. 

It was with this in mind that she approached you, an arm reaching round you and pulling you into her side for a hug, while smiling at you in the mirror, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your room and to the party on the floor above. 

Your outfit dilemma had delayed the two of you a little, so when you arrived upstairs, the party was already in full swing; with music blaring and alcohol clearly flowing freely if the state that some of the guests were in already was any indication. As such you were easily able to slip in behind Natasha unnoticed, before heading straight over to the bar, feeling the need to indulge a little more than normal tonight. 

From your vantage point at the bar up on the mezzanine, you could see almost all of the goings on down below you, from Lang absolutely busting it up on the dance floor to Tony trailing around after Pepper, seemingly trying to make up for something that was undoubtedly his fault, but wasn’t actually remorseful for. Unfortunately it also meant that you had the perfect view of Loki and his apparent flavour of the night. Despite knowing how unproductive it was, you found yourself comparing yourself to her, noting all the ways she was traditionally attractive, only to seemingly find yourself lacking in the same places in comparison. Even though you had accepted months ago that Loki was never going to reciprocate your feelings, and having desperately tried to allocate him into the friend box in your head unsuccessfully, it still hurt deeply to see him so close with other women, knowing what he would be doing with them that night, only to move on to the next when it suited him. 

This knowledge had one advantage for you though, it had made it much easier for you to become friends with the god. As you knew nothing romantic was ever going to happen between the two of you, you had found it that much easier to relax and joke around him, even going as far to return his flirty remarks, as there was no pressure behind it for you, and the potential embarrassment behind behaving more boldly was removed. Since he flirted with everyone that way, it obviously didn’t mean anything to him, so it made it much easier for you to jokingly flirt back. It was because of this new found confidence, that you had struck up a strong friendship with the god and had come to call him one of your closest friends. It had only added to your mental torture.

After a few more self indulgent moments, agonising a little more over what could have been you turned to the bartender, and took another drink with a polite thanks and a smile before deciding that even if you did still regret coming, and especially wearing the dress, you were going to make the most of the evening. Besides how many people could say they got to drink and dance with the avengers, who they were friends with. 

It was with this new found resilience that you stood from your place and made your way down to the dance floor, having caught Nat and Wanda’s eyes before and been summoned. 

The next few hours passes in a slight blur of laughter and dancing for you, after a few, chaotic but incredibly fun dances with Nat and Wanda some of the other men began to join in, requesting a dance with you. Between the fun of teaching Steve how people actually danced in clubs now alongside Nat, and Bucky whirling you round the floor like an absolute professional - after complementing your outfit for the evening with an all too knowing look, you had almost forgotten about your preconceptions for the evening, but whenever you danced with one of the men, however gracious and smooth they were, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were Loki instead of them; comparing the feel of their hand on your back to what you had imagined Loki’s would be like if he were there instead. 

Just when you were about to take a break from dancing, a slightly cooler hand came to rest on your back, as its owner leant down to speak into your ear over the music.

“Darling, I think its about time we show them how its really done don’t you?”

The feeling of his breath over your neck as he leant in closer sent a jolt down your spine, that you were almost certain he must have felt in his hand, still placed firmly in the middle of your back, exactly where you had imagined it being all night. 

Quickly composing yourself, you managed a somewhat natural reply, rather impressed with your own neurones for still being able to function at least somewhat normally whilst Loki was so close to you, having not moved away under the pretence of needing to be closer to be able to hear you over the music.

“Ah of course your majesty, I’m sure us mere mortals couldn’t possibly live up to the prowess of a god”

His low reply was barely heard over the thumping of the bass, in a way that made you question whether he had actually intended for your to hear it, if it wasn’t for the sly wink he sent towards you after.

“Yes I find that is the case in many areas darling, especially when it comes to moving their bodies”

The raised eyebrow you gave in reply expressed all you needed him to know, and covered for the fact that your mind had been sent in a downward spiral imagining his trademark snake hips dance move, in areas other than the dance floor. 

Whilst you were somewhat distracted in your thoughts, he moved the hand from your back to loop his arm round your waist and bring you back into the middle of the dance floor, beginning to sensually move his hips and draw you into to him to do the same. 

What you didn’t know was that Loki and been subtly watching you all evening, ever since you had walked in the door, many may not have noticed your entrance behind the Black Widow, but at this point Loki’s body was finely attuned to your presence and he hadn’t been able to draw his sight away from you for more than a few seconds at a time. You were wearing his colours. His green. But it wasn’t just your choice in attire tonight that had drawn his attention, as delightful as that dress was, you’d had it for many months before this point. Initially you had been a curiosity to Loki, kind to him when many others weren’t immediately following his return to Midgard, but after talking to you the first few times it was your intelligence that had captured Loki’s heart. He had found you to be one of the few midgardians to match his voracious appetite for knowledge, both in reading and in your chosen profession as a biologist working alongside Stark and Banner, but much less insufferable than the other two. 

When Loki had first come to terms with his interest in you, he had thought his subtle flirtations would be enough to alert you to his intentions, but when these failed to elicit any kind of response from you he had slowly become more and more bold with his innuendoes and flirtatious comments when in your presence. At first he had thought he was finally getting somewhere with you when you had began to match him in conversations, but when you made no sign of anything more, he had found himself stumped. At one point he had even stooped so low as to flirt with others in your presence in the hope that it would inspire enough jealously within you to reveal your feelings towards him, alas it did not work. No one had ever taken this long to fall victim to his seduction. He had admitted to himself that this time was different to his previous experiences as truly desired more with you than just a roll in the bed, not to say that did not also desire that with you, he had thought about that extensively, but he was not sure how to progress from here. 

When you had walked in tonight though, looking exquisite in his colours he had decided that enough was enough, tonight he was going to finally bite the bullet and just ask you outright if you would be with him. It was not a decision that he had come to lightly, but he had finally come to the realisation that if he wanted something to happen he was going to have to do something about it for himself. 

You didn’t know whether Loki had bribed the DJ before approaching you, or it was a shear unfortunate coincidence but as you continued dancing, each song seemed to get progressively dirtier and more sensual. This combined with finally dancing with him after having imagined it all night, the enticing smell of him from being in such close proximity, and the one or two drinks you’d had early were practically sending you into an early death.

Simultaneously Loki was experiencing a similar issue, when she wasn’t looking, Loki found his eyes being drawn from her face down to her chest, which with his height he had a fabulous view down, and combined with the lyrics and music he hands had seemingly began to move of his own accord and were veering dangerously further south. He decided he needed to do something soon, or he was going to have a very hard time of it.

As he leant down once again to speak into your ear, your breath hitched ever so slightly, and a faint flush bloomed across your cheeks- a fact that didn’t go entirely unnoticed by the god, and one that made his own pulse race. All hope that you felt the same way as him was not lost.

“Are you alright there darling? You’re looking awfully flushed. You’re not too warm in here are you?”

You had barely managed to stutter out what you could only imagine would have been a terrible excuse before he continued;

“Unless of course it is for the same reason as I.”

The hope that formed in your chest from the one sentence alone caused you to whip your head up, needing to search his gaze to see if he was really implying what you thought he was, surely he couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have felt the same way towards you as you did to him. Before you could continue with your self deprecation, he interrupted your thoughts once again;

“Now now darling stop that immediately, I can tell you are already overthinking this before I have even truly started. I do not know what it is that makes you doubt yourself so, but you must know that whatever it is I do not share that same belief.”

You held his breath as he said this, still not truly believing that this could be going where you wished it was, but not daring to do anything to break the spell just yet

“I was almost sure you would have known by now, but apparently I have not been clear enough in my appreciation or my advances towards you. I very much like you min elskling, you have well and truly captivated me heart and mind, body and soul. I would be honoured if you wished to court me, or as I believe you mortals say, go on a date with me” Loki finished with a release of breath, like saying all that had released a burden from upon his chest and he could finally breath deeply again now it was done.

You just stood there frozen in the middle of the dance floor, unsure if what you had heard was really happening, surely this was all some wonderful fever induced dream, and you were going to wake up face down on one of the desks in the lab any moment. 

However Loki was reading your silence as rejection, and the insecurities that he had previously pushed aside were starting to flood back.

“Of course darling, if you do not feel the same then, I would be more than happy to just remain as friends,” it was of course a lie, but one that he would guard closely if that were the case, as he would never want for you to feel guilty for making an honest decision, and would much rather keep your friendship than not have you in his life at all.

“And I can completely understand why of course if you do not return my feelings, after all with my heritage I know-” before he could finish his sentence though you had reached up and pulled his face down to your height, before promptly pushing your mouth onto his in a scorching kiss. In the time Loki had began to panic and ramble, it had finally registered what Loki had been saying, and that it was in fact real, so before he could spiral any further you had to display your feelings towards him, and this had seemed like the most direct course of action.

After a brief moment in which Loki’s brain had to catch up to what was actually going on right now, he swiftly took charge of the kiss, both of you melting into it, especially as Loki opened his mouth to let he tongue dance along your lips before slowly meeting your own. At the same time, Lokis hands began to wander more actively, finally sliding that last little distance down to your behind, which he grasped firmly before sliding one hand down to bring your leg up and round his hip, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him. Your own hands had found their way into his silky hair, finally fulfilling the desire you had held for many months to feel what it was like between your fingers, and when you gave it a gentle tug in the passion of the moment, a low growl made its way up Lokis throat, only enticing you in further. 

It was only as a few wolf whistles broke through your bubble that you remembered exactly where you both were and that it was perhaps not the best place for what was clearly on its way to happening. It was with the same thought that Loki took your hand and began leading you out of the room, stopping only briefly first to growl lowly into your ear “we need to leave now darling, don’t you agree?” Before nipping your earlobe and pulling back to grin at you. 

With absolutely no objections, and no subtlety either, you nodded before taking the lead taking you both in the direction your room, before stopping to remember the state you had left it in before the party in your distress to find an outfit. You blushed at the memory and changed direction slightly to lead you both to his rooms instead. Loki however took no notice, or simply did not care for the slight moment of hesitation, as at this point he didn’t particularly care where you were headed as long as it was close by, you were finally his and now it was time for him to claim you as such. 

Part Two here:

Thank you so much for reading if you made it this far! Please do let me know what you think x

[queer-questions-and-polls]

Ok genuinely I've seen too much of this bullshit fighting between fem & masc trans people on my fyp to not talk about it so here we go:

To all trans people:

your experiences are your own. some people are gonna have it worse than others and that has not a lot to do with if your androgens, fem or masc. Stop acting like it does.

Yes their are gender specific trans problems, and yes, we do need our own spaces to talk about and realise each others problems are incredibly real. but that doesn't mean anyone is better than anyone else or that anyone had it harder. We are all in the same fucking boat. Please hold this discussion until we are legally allowed to be alive & be ourselves almost everywhere, because if we just fight each other for this and not join hands to fight for our rights (or even fight to keep the ones we have), we're all dead.

On to another thing:

some people really need to stop idolising all fem alliend people. (As one myself) It's really ignorant and makes you rationalise anything a fem person does so you blame the masc person. Guess what? masculinity (that isn't toxic) actually isn't a big scary moster that wants to hurt you, neither is feminity

(I'm not talking about trans fems. I'm talking about people who present fem. That ranges from trans fems to fem boys and everything in between)

Now to my trans peps who have trauma with masculinity:

It's okay if you inherently think of masculinity as a bad think as a result of trauma, trust me it's okay I'm undoing that thought process at the moment. For a while I forced myself into the nonbinary label because I hated masculinity but feminity didn't feel right or like me. It wasn't good for me.

But please don't take that out on others. I promise you most trans people have had this problem at least once. We know how it feels but we shouldn't have feel bad to make others feel better.

In conclusion:

If you hate people based on gender presentation/gender in general your going to miss out on so many good opportunities & relationships.

We are all just people who have dealt with lots of sides of the gender spectrum and the way your treated in those groups as a newcomer.

But I'm only a silly boyflux person whose not going to pass until top surgery, so i guess ignore me if you want. I know most of you will.

I'm also sorry if I'm coming off as aggressive, that wasn't my intention. I'm just really tired of this.

Found this gem in the transadrophobia tag.

Edit: I'm sorry if I was transadrophobic or transmisognstic in this post at all. I was trying hard to be neutral, because I have an extremely positive experience with feminity and a horrible but slowly healing one with masculinity which is detailed here

[punkascas]

okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.

but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.

no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.

i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.

like.

torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.

just. i. what??

so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.

cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.

re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:

we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.

knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.

we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.

but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?

re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.

mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.

again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".

re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.

uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.

secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.

and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.

re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.

to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.

ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.

so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?

re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.

this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.

i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).

love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.

so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.

and terrifying.

my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.

guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.

[sophieinwonderland]

how do you feel about the divide between the tulpamancy and the wider endo community? i keep seeing posts that wish for "more systems that piss people off" and list off obscure origins like firpergenic and pseudogenic, but not a mention of tulpas, even though we bear half of all the hate coming from sysmeds.

I see "pro-endo" posts that censor us as t*lpagenic, i see posts insisting that we have to leave our communities and start calling ourselves willogenic or other terms they came up with, otherwise we deserve to be the endos' scapegoats. i see posts from transplurals rejecting any mention of tulpamancy techniques that could help them and separating themselves from tulpamancy, even though i and i'm sure many others have had similar experiences of hating being a singlet and changing that with tulpamancy

Is this it? Is this all the discourse is ever going to be? I wish the kids would realise that they'll never win if they don't stick with their most controversial, and i wish we didn't have to defend both our own existence and theirs at the same time

I think the divide is overstated. There's a small handful of pro endos who are against the term tulpa. And they do tend to be rather vocal about it.

I mean, you do a search for "#pro endo #anti tulpa" in the tags and you'll see most are just people intentionally crosstagging to reach the other side. Tags are obviously not the only things that matter since not everyone tags their stuff as anti tulpa. But still, I just don't see this mentality that much outside of a very few pro endo blogs.

And at that, many of these anti-tulpa pro-endo blogs are people who have been in sysmed circles and picking up their talking points from them. Either "originally pro endo but fell into anti endo circles later" or "reformed anti endo who absorbed anti endo talking point before making the change but still doesn't accept tulpas."

You look into a lot of these so-called pro-endo anti-tulpas who make anti-tulpa posts, and it's not long until you find them arguing that endogenic and pro endo systems aren't oppressed and should shut up about it.

Or calling the pro-endo community nasty because we're not polite enough to people fakeclaiming our existences and harassing us for being plural for non-trauma reasons.

I would hardly call the "endogenic systems exist but I hate their community and think they should shut up about being oppressed" camp pro endo.

To the extent that actual anti-tulpa pro-endos do exist, I do find it's pretty stupid. I think it shoots yourself in the foot on multiple fronts. As you mention, it separates them from valuable resources that can help their systems.

It also plays into sysmed misinformation meant to divide the community. It's the same exact thing that happened when transphobes spread the talking point that "Faegender" was appropriative to sew division in the trans community, and demonize people for using neo pronouns.

The other thing is... tulpamancy is being researched right now more than other sorts of plurality, in a scientific way. When the Stanford Tulpa Study is published, it's going to be super important to spread that as much as possible.

And I expect we'll also see future studies on tulpas that will be into the actual creation process, which will be amazing. Imagine if we had a longitudinal study demonstrating that singlets can create headmates from scratch! This would completely and utterly destroy all remaining sysmed talking points.

Any pro-endo systems not sharing studies like this because they don't like a word would, frankly, be harming all endogenic systems with their silence.

But like I said, these tend to be a very vocal minority. I don't worry about them or concern myself with them.

I also think as tulpa studies come out and are the main evidence showing that plurality can be induced at any age into singlets, many of the stragglers will end up falling in line. 🤷‍♀️

[hotluncheddie]

✨FrankenWIP game✨

i've gotten tagged in some last sentence / six sentence / wip weekends, which i didn't have the energy to do before lol, but now i kind of do! and i've been working on seven posts for @subeddieweek so i want to share some of those, as a treat and in the form of a mish mash game that i made up the rules for :)

[also been working on the summer fic exchange for @sidekick-hero but ur not allowed to see that yet hehe]

Rules:

post 3-6 sentences of your most recent WIP's, with titles, and people can send you asks for more 3-6 sentence snippets! tag as many people as you want or just use this as a reason to add a few new sentences to your projects!

no pressure tags:

those who tagged me hehe: @someforeignband @pearynice @momotonescreaming @oakenorcrist @marvel-ous-m @steddie-island @ao3usermelancholyhues

and also: @babydollbaron @scoops-aboy86 @wynnyfryd @puppy-steve @flowercrowngods @sidekick-hero @finntheehumaneater @steviewashere @rogueddie @stevesbipanic

(snippets under the cut 18+ obviously)

Day 1: Accidental subspace

Steve had his gloved finger in Eddie’s mouth. Eddie never realised how intimate the dentist could be. Not until he’s laying on Steve’s bed, head on one of Steve’s pillows, bracketed by Steve’s thighs so he can lean over Eddie. lean over and put his gloved finger in Eddie’s mouth. 

Day 2: Cockwarming

Eddie’s mouth is still obediently open and his sticky red cock is dripping onto Steve’s thigh. ‘Swallow.’ Steve tells him and Eddie does with a whine. ‘Your turn, hump my thigh like a good puppy yeah?’ Steve murmurs, kissing Eddie’s swollen lips and relishing in how sweetly Eddie moans as fingers finally sink in. 

Day 3: 24/7 dynamic

He drops his keys in the bowl and puts his coat on the hook. Sighing the day away. Focusing on where he is now. 

Home, where he’s met, like always, by his sweet thing. 

His fallen angel. 

Day 4: Edging

‘I know how she tastes.’ 

Eddie feels like all his air gets gut punched out of him, feels his fucking pupils dilate so fast his vision goes blurry. He makes a strangled sort of moan. Feels his boxers and jeans flood with cum.

‘Did? Did you just?’

Eddies panting so hard all he can really do is nod his head. 

Day 5: Possessive Steve

And he does like it. Likes having all those eyes on him, the attention and praise. Even if they don’t really know him, just think he’s hot, that’s enough. It’s why he chooses pants cute extra tight, why he slices the ends off all his t-shirts, why he lets his mascara run and never wipes the sweat from his neck. He wants the crowd to want him, look at him and hunger for him. Even though they’ll never really know him, it’s okay. 

Day 6: Bondage

Steve smiled, indulges, gaves Eddie the cookie bite by big bite, slipping his fingers inside for Eddie to suck. 

‘You like this.’ Steve said, then, and Eddie nodded, too afraid to explain that it was everything, all of it, more. 

Eddie liked it. Liked it, especially, from Steve. 

Day 7: Daddy Steve

Eddie closes his eyes, breaths through his mouth but his exhale gets choked on a sob. Fuck, it’s been such a bad fucking day. ‘I need to not fucking think for a while, don’t, don’t wanna exist anymore Stevie. Just wanna be here, be yours.’ He pleads, tears sliding down his cheeks and snot filing his nose. 

[margowritesthings]

Te Beroya: I

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 24. “Your charms won’t work on me, pretty. I’m not that kind of bounty hunter.” & 45. “You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” (from @saradika's Star Wars prompts!) word count: 3359 words warnings: brief mentions of harassment in a flashback, implied non-con intentions but flashback ends before anything happens, somewhat suggestive fighting authors note: this is shameless self care where I have no idea if anyone will even read this, but I totally just sat and wrote the whole ass thing last night in one sitting?? anyway, this is 100% inspired by @saradika's incredible fallout/star wars AU, and it will be a mini series! I hope y'all enjoy, cause Mandalorian!Arthur has my whole ass heart. If you're here from Red Dead and have no idea whats going on, I've left a little glossary at the bottom of the fic with any terms I've used!!

i haven't tagged anyone cause i didn't know if my usual Arthur people would like a crossover or not, so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the next part!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

Max Rebo is on tonight, so the Cantina is busy. More so than usual, which gladly works in your favour. It’s much easier to blend in with the rabble when there’s so many of them, diminishing the danger of getting a simple drink after a long day. You miss the time when danger wasn’t something you had to consider before something as simple as a trip to the watering hole, but that’s life now. 

You’re sitting at a table for two, the second chair pulled away by a group of Klantoonians playing Dejarik and making bets amongst each other, which works fine for you. An empty chair might invite guests, which is the last thing in the Galaxy you want right now. 

When you throw your drink to the back of your throat, it burns just how you like it, though the sight of a now empty glass pulls your brows together in an almost pout. You have very few credits left, and with your face coded into half the bounty pucks this side of the Outer Rim, work is pretty sparing these days.

A knight in shining beskar turns heads as he strolls into the Cantina, a Mandalorian whos helmet catches the dim spotlights scattered around the dusty bar when he appears to survey the clientele surrounding you, capturing your attention in the process. It’s a rare sight, seeing a Mandalorian walk so openly around the place, and the man instantly ignites a fascination in you. Sure, the Daimyo around here has the armour, but Boba Fett doesn’t claim to be a part of any creed, so you’re not entirely sure where he stands.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that it isn’t until the stranger is right in front of you, two glasses in hand, do you realise he was even approaching. 

“Mind if I sit? I can pay rent.” He asks, his low, gruff accent hinting at origins in Mos Pelgo Freetown- as he gestures to the two glasses grasped in gloved hands. Curious eyes scan over his figure, tall and built as he is, landing on the full glass of whiskey with your name on it. A solution to your dry problem, albeit a risky one. It all depends on how much you’re willing to gamble for a drink…

“If you can find a seat, sure…” You shrug, fauxing a nonchalant air about you to keep suspicions low. You have no reason to trust this man, but showing that so openly would surely attract questions you’re not prepared to answer. 

The glasses are placed down, the mystery Mandalorian taking a few steps, winding around the merry crowds to reach the nearest table. You watch on, amused, pretty sure anyone in this whole place would choose a fight over giving up their seat; the Cantina hardly has the clientele of the highest calibre. It’s an apprehension you feel, almost an excitement, at the thought of a fight breaking out and distracting everyone enough for you to pick a few pockets. And you’ve already got your drink… 

You’re busy planning who you’re gonna steal from when you notice the presence this man commands. He’s tall, built up with muscles packed under his beskar. You can’t see his face, and you wonder if he’s one of those Mandalorians who never remove their helmets, your curiosity officially piqued. He approaches the group who took the seat in the first place, one of them scoffing at what you assume to be a request for the seat. You sit up, ready for the ensuing fight, but it never comes. Instead, the Mandalorian leans down, right up to the other’s face, and it’s far too loud in here to hear what he’s said, but stars would you love to know what has a Klantoonian scrambling up like that and offering out the stool. 

Disappointment and a strange sense of admiration mixes in you as you lean back into your seat, your new tablemate following suit and sliding one glass across to you. 

“Cheers,” You announce, lifting your glass to clink it against thin air before taking a sip, savouring the burn over your tongue a little more this time. The Mandalorian nods his head in response, and just as you think you’ve worked him out, he reaches for his helmet and pulls it off his head, placing it down on the table and taking a gulp from his own drink. 

It takes you a moment to take him all in. His sandy hair, tousled from the helmet, a couple strands falling in front of his tanned skin. He has the jawline of a deity, spattered with stubble that is only broken with a small scar on his chin. 

Dank Farrik.

You know his face. You know this man, you’ve seen that scar, those eyes, (though even in the dark cantina you can see an incredible ocean hue that no hologram nor poster could never hope to capture) before, hanging on the walls of  the underground bars you used to frequent before every crime family on the planet were after your head.

Arthur Morgan, bounty hunter.

It’s too late to flee, and the disruption you’d cause by bolting would only draw more attention to you, so your only option appears to be complacency, for now. Act the fool, pretend you don’t know exactly who he is and why he’s here, and let whatever little plan he has in store for you play out until you can excuse yourself and get the hell out of here. 

You school your expression to as much indifference as you can, though the rather long sip of your drink may have given you away. Arthur watches you intently, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was buying you a drink to flirt with you. But you do know better, unfortunately. 

“You know,” he starts, drawing out the statement and retaining your attention with a long sip of his own, “You’re prettier than the stars above.” 

Whiskey shoots down your throat and back up again with your little splutter, not expecting this to be his plan. You just about manage to suppress the scoff rising up like bile,  concealing it in a cough. Your fight or flight is in hyperdrive, and the reverend Arthur Morgan laying on the fake charm in order to cash in on the price on your head really isn’t helping. He’s good, though, you had to give him that. It’s a mighty fine pickup line coming from a mighty fine looking man, it’s just a shame he’s trying to capture you.

“Afraid your charms won’t work on me, pretty boy. I’m not that kinda girl.”

“Pretty boy, really?” He doesn’t seem mad, more amused, a raised brow meeting with a little chuckle and a head shake as he throws the last of his drink back down. 

It’s now or never. 

You throw the last of your own drink back, part for the plan, part for the Dutch courage needed to actually pull the plan off. 

“Same again?” You ask, your stool squeaking awkwardly against the stone floor when your straightening legs push it into the wall, “I think this rounds on me.”

It’s a near perfect act of indifference, with only a single, traitorous voice break right at the end. You hope he doesn’t notice, but it’s wishful thinking. Arthur stands too, echoing your stools creak, his hand reaching on instinct to the holster hanging by his hip.

Dank farrik dank farrik dank farrik!!

“Don’t you worry about that, pretty girl.” The way he throws your pet name back at you… he knows you know, and you have seconds to act.

Eyes wide, like a bantha in headlights, you take your chances in throwing the last of your drink back, before throwing the glass over to the table of gamers and gamblers. It hits one of them on the back of the head, and everybody turns to him, the music cutting off abruptly for a few seconds of silence before the chaos erupts. 

You’re the first to move, breaking the almost comical freeze frame to put one boot on the table and push it into Arthur. He lunges for you, missing by inches, so close you feel the air rush past your skin where he nearly grazes you. The table hits him in the stomach, and he’s forced to bend over it, giving you the perfect opportunity to risk everything and grab the blaster jutting out. You shoot twice, high into the ceiling, which really kicks things off. The cantina soon descends into riot status, with punches thrown, drinks flying and the like. The distraction you’ve been after ever since he walked in here with his uneasy air and the hairs on the back of your neck first began to stand on edge.

The path out is far from easy, and you’re pretty sure you stood on more than a few limbs, but when the dry heat of a Tatooine night hits you, you’ve never been so grateful.  You don’t look back once, not knowing if he’s following you or even if he saw where you’re going, you just run until your lungs burn and your muscles scream at you and then you run some more. There’s a spot you know, an abandoned farm house just outside the city that’s covered in sand and looks like it hasn’t been touched in years. You hid out there once before, the last time a bounty hunter tried their luck with you, successfully prolonging this never ending hunt where you’re the prey every damn time.

It’s a long night, one where you don’t sleep a wink nor dare to light a fire. It doesn’t seem like Arthur followed you, but it was a few hours after reaching the farmhouse did you release the grip of your stolen blaster enough for it to no longer press each metal marking into the skin of your palm. You keep your back pressed firmly against the wall of one of the sand-filled alcoves, keeping hidden from sight until the suns are both well above the horizon. The mid-morning heat is a grateful relief from the biting cold; even the desert cools in the dead of night. 

You spot the bantha first, letting it lure you into a false sense of security before it gets close enough for you to make out the details of its silhouette, one detail in particular being the goddamn bounty hunter sitting atop it. 

The fact that he’s here at all means he knows he’ll find you here, but logic doesn’t get in the way of you scuttling back into the house, climbing to what used to be the second floor and pulling the blaster back out to press against your chest. 

Not exactly the faster creatures in the Outer Rim, it takes the bantha and its rider a few torturous minutes to reach you, but when they do arrive, Arthur dismounts casually, with no indication that he intends to send you back to your maker. Your breath hitches as he walks down the little incline of sand into the ruins of the house. 

He turns on his heel, and you notice the spurs on his boots make a little circle in the sand around his feet. 

“I know you’re here, mesh’la,” he taunts, bringing out a Mando’a translation of the newly formed inside joke you seem to share now, “Ain’t no point hiding.” 

He’s right, you know he is. There is no way out, no possibility you’re going to escape him, and even if you did, there’s no cover out here. He’ll be able to sit back and watch wherever you run, just waiting to follow. You could shoot him, but the weight of the blood you’ve already spilled is already becoming too much. Could you really carry more?

Tears threaten to prick at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refuse to let the shaking of your hands carry on for any longer than your cover does. He won’t see the cracks in your facade, that you’ll make sure of.

“You’re prettier than the stars above, you know that?” 

It will be a cold day on Mustafar when the great Arthur Morgan bows to flattery, but that doesn’t stop you from poking whatever fun you can reach. 

Your voice echoing around the remains of the farmhouse alerts Arthur of your general location, so he turns to it, giving you a full view of the amused grin on his face.

“Your charms won’t work on me, pretty girl. I ain’t that kind of bounty hunter.” 

You laugh. A genuine, true laugh, despite yourself. Despite everything. 

“Come on out now, no-one needs to get hurt…” He pleads, wandering eyes indicating he’s still not 100% sure where you are.

“Except me, when you hand my ass in for a few credits.” You point out, noticing that your back and forth seems to have quelled the tremors in your hands. Let’s not ponder that right now…

Arthur looks taken aback, like he genuinely doesn’t know what to say to that. Good. Let him stutter to death for all you care. 

“Well, maybe you shoulda’ thought of that before you started sloggin’ off some mighty powerful people, sweetheart…” 

His comment seems to spark, igniting a firework of anger deep within you. It explodes loudly, albeit quickly, when you aim Arthur’s own blaster to beside his feet, firing a warning shot that smokes in the sand. You wouldn’t be surprised to see one of his boots singed with how close you were, but when he jumps back, pulling out another identical blaster from a second holster and aiming it right at your alcove, you curse inwardly. How did you not notice that?

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, bounty hunter.” You seethe, that anger burning hot as he claims to understand your situation. 

“Well why don’t you come out here and we can talk about it?” 

That earns a scoff, which Arthur responds to with a long sigh.

“Look… way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You can come out, do this the easy way, and I can bring you in nice and warm, get my full fee, and you live to see another day. Or-”

“Yeah, I get it, beroya,” You spit the Mando’a name out like a curse, “Or you can kill me right now and have a real lonely drive back to wherever the hell it is they want my corpse.” 

You hate that he’s right, hate that you’re cornered, hate that it’s over, ignoring the small part of you that sighs relief at the prospect of no longer having to live life with one eye on your back. 

There’s one last, long, deep breath, the exhale feeling like letting go of something, though you’re not sure if it’s freedom or the captivity this hunt has kept you in, and then you’re jumping from the second floor, landing in the sand with a thud. You’re still clutching the gun, but so is Arthur, and you’re not sure you’d fare well in a duel against an actual sharpshooter, so you toss it over to him, sand flying off at him in a final, petty move. 

Arthur picks it up, holstering a pistol at each hip as he slowly approaches, hands raised like a keeper trying to tame a wild rancor. You can’t decide if you like that allegory on not, rancors can get pretty vicious… 

The handcuffs you also didn’t notice last night hang from the bounty hunter’s belt. You’re still while he corners you, appearing willing when he plucks the binders from his belt. It isn’t until you feel gloved hands against your skin do the prickles on the back of your neck start burning and the urge to flee rises up again like bile. 

Phantom hands, Trandoshan ones, appear all over your body as you’re flung out of reality from a single touch. 

“Aren’t you a gem?” his whisper just about reaches your ear, warm breath bubbling at the skin of your neck like acid. He runs a claw across your jaw, resting it below your chin so you can’t look away. 

“Please don’t touch me.” You demand, though your voice is weak. Scared. You know what happens to girls who don’t do what they’re told around here.

That displeasure spreading across his face twists and contorts it when he registers your disobedience. Notably, his claws remain on you, and when you try to step backwards, he crowds you, following until your back hits the cold stone wall. Claustrophobia sets in, your breath hitching when you feel his chest press against yours. 

“Hm… I think I will, girl. Nobody says no to me, you’ll do well to remember that.” 

The stench of whatever cologne rich Trandoshan boys wear lingers in your nostrils like it so often does, but your mind catches up with where you really are faster than your body does. It’s instinct, when you bring your knee up to hit Arthur hard in the gut and completely wind him. He lets out a groan, doubling over and dropping the binders in the process, which you kick across the sand. 

You use his distraction to push him over onto his back, but he grabs the lapels of your jacket and drags you down with him so you’re straddling him, crotch to crotch as you attempt to pin him down into the sand. Your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to constrict his wriggling, but he’s pretty strong. You’re not thinking straight when you pull your fist back, with every intention of striking Arthur in the face, but the shock of his catching your fist in his much bigger hands seems to bring you back to reality and you realise what you’re doing. 

Frozen, for only a second, but it’s enough window to give Arthur chance to overpower you, twisting your bodies together until you’re below him instead and he can pin down each arm by the wrist. Your thighs remain wrapped around him, and with Arthur towering over you, it has suddenly become an awfully intimate position shared between the two of you. His face is inches from yours, his hot, panting breaths mixing with yours. Both of your chests rise and fall, just barely touching as you glare into eachothers eyes. 

“The hell was that?!” He demands, and you’re trying your absolute hardest to ignore the prodding you feel against your thigh. Maker help you…

He doesn’t deserve a response from you, only the ceasing of your strained muscles trying to escape his iron grip as a silent admit to defeat. With the way you fell, your satchel is digging awkwardly into your lower back, so you raise your hips slightly to ease the ache. An unexpected effect of that is your pelvis grinding oh-so gently against Arthur’s, which seems to bring a surge of energy to that bulge pressing against you. Your eyes widen, as do Arthur’s, and there’s one single moment shared between the two of you before he quickly scrambles off you, not releasing his bruising grip on your wrists. 

When he stands, he doesn’t give you the chance to before he’s walking to the direction you kicked his cuffs. It drags you along the coarse sand, your wrist screaming from the strain of carrying your weight.

“Ow- you’re gonna break my wrist, you fucking nerf herder!” You hiss at him, kicking your legs in protest as sand flies about the place and you’re dragged to the cuffs. 

“Shoulda’ thought about that before ya tried to break my goddamn nose, mesh’la.” The term of endearment is anything but sincere, coupled with rough movements as he cuffs you that hint that he may be pretty pissed about the sudden unexpected fight. The binders are a little too tight to ever be comfortable, but you’re pretty sure that’s intentional. A slice of revenge for trying to run again.

“These are too tight.” You complain, lifting your wrists up to his standing form. 

“Well, you better get used to it. We’ve got a long ride to Mos Espa, Princess.”

beroya - bounty hunter dank farrik - curse word mesh'la - beautiful trandoshan - an alien species, one of the crime families of tatooine

[jiminiecrickets]

Seven days a week jungkook jealousy drabble maybe?🙃❤️

yah sure

sfw. warning for the use of "queer" as a neutral descriptor for the reader.

it grinds at him like a lamprey's rasping tongue – boring into his flesh, leeching from him the vitality that colours him. slowly bled from him, it leaves him pale, quiet, fragile.

he grips your arm tighter, a small pleasant smile plastered on his face. the event hasn't yet officially begun, and everyone mills about in gaggles ranging from pairs to groups of five or six, cramming as much networking into the evening as possible before they're limited to their table groups. the large indoor venue sparkles with chandeliers and drapery, and the garden outside glitters with curls of fairy lights and light-lined stone paths.

usually, the most tiring thing about these events was all the talking. loud, incessant – it really wasn't his cup of tea, but he figured tagging along with you was a good way to ready himself for the 'real world' without having to suffer alone for three hours. if he made a couple of new connections, then that was a job well done.

he was doing alright, cosied up to your side while you did most of the talking. then came the pretty freshly-graduated face who didn't know what jungkook's arm looped through yours meant.

she'd positioned himself on your other side. jungkook couldn't push her away without looking like a weirdo, but it was growing increasingly difficult not to simmer with annoyance when the girl was sliding her hands all over you, laughing at everything you said and telling anecdotes about your work with her to the others in a high-pitched flirtatious voice.

his jaw works, fingers digging into your bicep. you drop his arm, sliding your palm down his sleeve to squeeze his hand reassuringly. you try resting your other arm behind your back in the middle of a shallow conversation with your co-worker about his kids but all it does is make her more insistent.

"and what about you? how long have you been off the market?"

it's an innocent question, since you'd just been chatting about that same co-worker's wife. jungkook tenses up, watching the young woman's smile grow somewhat strained.

"three years this november," you reply cheerfully, wrapping your arm around jungkook's waist and squeezing his hip. he rests his head against your shoulder, a genuine smile taking the place of its stiff predecessor. "feels like the blink of an eye, really. it'll be ten years before i realise something's changed."

they share a laugh at that, with some co-workers teasing proposals and marriage. briefly, jungkook entertains the idea of honeymooning with you in some picturesque tourist trap, but his mood immediately sours the second the woman next to you opens her mouth.

"oh, people say the best time to get married is just under two years into a relationship! are you stalling for your freedom?" she giggles. "well, there are always plenty of better fish in the sea if you ever come looking!"

it's a weird fucking thing to say, and jungkook's eyes narrow at her as the conversation abruptly turns flat and awkward. a bubble of silence envelops the group as she beams up at you, unaware, blissfully or ignorantly, that even your older colleagues – for many of whom you are the first openly queer person they've met – are staring at her with a profound sense of what the fuck.

"i need to borrow him for a moment," jungkook says suddenly, his voice tighter than usual. "please excuse us."

he all but drags you away, tearing you out of her grip. he veers towards the men's bathroom, and the two of you are not seen until just before the dinner begins. now, however, you sport a wonky tie and a hastily-buttoned jacket.

jungkook meets the young woman's eyes on the other side of the table, holding her stare until she folds and glances away first. when he turns his head to listen to the presenter at the front of the room, his mouth twitches a little, nearly a smirk. a dark red bruise peeks over the stiff white collar of his shirt.

[singsweetmelodies]

Hello Katie 👋🏼👋🏼 :D

For the 50 romance prompts ask meme, I'll like to request for 44: soulmate AU: timers <3

but if possible... with a twist...? (you don't have to include a twist if it's too difficult to work it in!)

The twist being, for whatever reason, their countdown timers for each of them to the time they meet their soulmates doesn't match, so they think "we're not each other's soulmates. that's cool. (no it's not)" but it turns out that they're each other soulmates anyways. or they choose to be with each other in spite of not being each other's soulmates. idk. *nervous laughter*

hiiii charlotte 🥰 first off, i am SO sorry for the incredible delay with this answer!! i saw this prompt and i absolutely LOVED IT (and the twist!! 🙏 *chef's kiss*) but unfortunately i got struck with a horrible case of writer's block/work deadlines, and just couldn't get to it at all.

until yesterday: i decided to just open my inbox and see what came to me. no thinking, just following the vibe of a prompt and writing. and uh. this happened... not only did it get ridiculously long (oops?) but it also somehow became a mini "investigate montreal" fic?? so in that vein, i'm tagging @1016week and submitting a belated entry for Day 6 "Montreal"... ❤️

i love this one. hope you love it too!! 👀⌚

~

Charles' soulmate timer stops when he is seven years old, and he meets the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

He's been vibrating with excitement all weekend - not just because it's a karting cup, but because his soulmate timer has been ticking down to this day for months now. Well, not just months, not really. It's actually been his whole life, but Charles doesn't remember all of that. He only remembers the past few months, when the little numbers had been getting smaller and smaller, until there were only ten days left and Charles gasped when he realised that the day would fall on the same day as the Bridgestone Cup.

"Of course the girl I marry is going to like racing, too," he'd told Maman and Papa, confidingly. Not a lot about soulmates made much sense to him, but this did.

His Maman had tried to smile, and Charles had hugged her tight to let her know it was going to be okay. He would find his soulmate, and then everyone would be smiling, because that's what people do when you meet your soulmate.

(Later that night, when Charles had been too excited to sleep and he'd gone to the bathroom quickly, Charles had heard his parents having an argument in their room. The door was closed, so their voices were muffled, but Charles could still make out his Maman saying "I just don't think it's a good sign, to meet your soulmate so young!" But Papa had countered, "Many people do, and they have beautiful stories. You have to trust that our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow." And then there had been an icky noise, like kissing, and Charles had flushed the loo quickly and ran back to his room.)

Now, with the beautiful blue eyed boy standing in front of him, Charles thinks of Papa's words again. Our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow.

Charles thought it would be a girl who really liked karting, but this is even better. This is a boy who wins at karting, because he's holding a trophy in both hands and grinning like he couldn't be happier.

Of course Charles' perfect match would be someone who wins at karting. It's only right, because Charles also wins at karting.

Charles clears his throat. "Hi," he says shyly, and the blue-eyed boy jumps.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he says apologetically, and then he laughs. He has a nice laugh, Charles thinks - like he knows how to have fun. "You are a bit short," the blue-eyed boy adds, and hey.

"Hey," Charles protests. "I'm tall for my age. I'm seven."

"Well, I'm nine," the blue-eyed boy says, like that's the most impressive age in the world.

It is a bit impressive, but not very, because Lorenzo is much older than that. Still, it is a little scary - Charles is only seven. What if this blue-eyed boy doesn't like him because he's only seven? Older kids can be mean like that.

No, he is your perfect match, Charles reminds himself. This blue-eyed boy won't be mean to him, because that's not how perfect matches work.

Charles takes a deep breath, then he sticks out his hand. "I'm Charles," he says.

The blue-eyed boy takes his hand, and it feels... weird. A little bit like when you get shocked by static electricity.

Charles giggles, unable to stop himself, and the blue-eyed boy smiles, as though he likes that.

"Hello, Charles. I'm Pierre," he says, squeezing Charles' hand. His eyes widen a moment later. "Oh! You've met your soulmate?!"

Charles doesn't understand what he means. "Well, yeah," he says. "It's y-"

And then he notices it.

Pierre's soulmate timer, right there on his wrist, right above where Charles is gripping his hand - it's still ticking.

Now, Charles doesn't know a lot about soulmates yet, but he knows that that's not good. Not good at all.

"I, um," Charles stammers, and then he does the one thing Maman and Papa said you should never do to your soulmate. Charles lies.

"I met so many new people today. I don't remember who it was."

Pierre's face falls. "Oh," he says, and he sounds unbearably sad for Charles. "But..." He chews his lip, shaking his head with a deep frown.

Then, mid-shake, Pierre's expression changes to one of determination. "I will help you find them," he says, with the kind of confidence Charles can only dream of when he's not on the racetrack.

He tugs on Charles' hand - which he still hasn't let go of - and Charles is helpless to do anything but follow.

~

They don't find Charles' soulmate anywhere, of course, and then Charles has to go win his race - but Pierre makes him promise that they will find each other at the next French karting event, and Charles will tell him all about his soulmate.

Charles promises, even though the idea makes his stomach feel all funny. I shouldn't be lying to my soulmate, he thinks, guiltily.

But Pierre's soulmate timer didn't stop ticking, and... that's not how soulmates are supposed to work.

The moment he's in the car with his father after the race, heading back home, Charles asks him about it.

Papa is quiet for a long moment, then: "Are you sure there wasn't someone behind Pierre, Charles?" he asks, in his careful, kind way. "Someone who's timer stopped at the same time as yours?"

Charles thinks about it for a moment, but even the idea of that feels - wrong, somehow. Like going into a corner and knowing you braked too hard, and you're going to flip the kart.

He shakes his head decisively. "No," he says. "It's Pierre."

He hears rather than sees his father blow out a soft sigh. Charles catches his eye in the rearview mirror, feeling confused and a little shaky inside.

When Papa sighs like that, it's never good news - it's usually something about sponsorship, which is a word Charles is already coming to dread.

It doesn't make sense how this could be about sponsorship, though. It probably isn't.

Charles waits for his father to gather his thoughts, like he needs to do sometimes to make sure he says exactly what he means. (It's something Maman keeps telling him he should try doing as well, but he's not so good at that yet.)

"You know how even the greatest racing drivers make mistakes sometimes?" Papa asks.

Charles frowns, but he nods. "Yes?"

"Sometimes the universe is like that, too. Sometimes the universe makes a mistake, and stops the timers too soon," Papa explains.

Charles frowns. He hasn't heard about that before, but he guesses it makes sense. It's true what Papa said - not even Senna was a perfect driver who never made mistakes. It makes sense that the universe is the same.

"But this doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate, okay, Charles?" Papa says before Charles can spend too much time thinking about the whole thing. His voice is firmer than Charles was expecting, and he reaches up to tilt the rearview mirror to see Charles better.

"It doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate," he repeats, like he doesn't want Charles to ever doubt that. "It just means it's going to be a little harder to find them."

Charles frowns, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. Isn't the whole point of soulmate timers to make it easier to find your perfect match?

It's just his luck that his soulmate timer doesn't work properly.

"I understand," Charles says, though, because he can tell it's important to his father.

Papa nods, but he keeps watching Charles in the rearview mirror for the rest of the drive, like he sometimes does after a race where Charles crashed the kart badly and he needs to keep making sure that Charles is fine.

Of course Charles is fine. He doesn't think this is comparable to a bad race at all! It's a little annoying, yes, but it's not that bad. It's just a bit of extra work, isn't it?

Charles shrugs his shoulders, glancing quickly down at the stopped soulmate timer at his wrist.

Whatever. Racing is more important than soulmates, anyway.

~

Almost twenty years later, Charles still says that to himself almost every day, even if he doesn't believe it with nearly the same careless seven-year-old confidence anymore: racing is more important than soulmates.

It is, because it has to be.

The thing is this: his father's explanation to Charles' seven-year-old self had been true - if a little oversimplified, and painted with an overt layer of kindness.

The truth Charles knows now is that there are two reasons, two categories, for people whose timers stop when the other person's keeps running.

One is, like Papa had said all those years ago, a simple case of mistaken timing - cases where the universe or fate or whatever controls it all stopped one person's timer a little too soon, or the other's a little too late.

It's harder to find each other in those cases, but it's still quite possible.

And then there's the second category. The unrequiteds. People whose timers stopped at the right time - when they met the person who would be their perfect match - except that they are not that person's perfect match in return. It only goes one way.

It's rare, but it happens sometimes. No system is perfect, after all - not even a system of soulmates.

For years and years, Charles tried to convince himself that he fell into the first category. His soulmate timer simply stopped too early, by some cosmic accident - but it's okay, Charles insists to everyone who asks and to himself as well, because what it's done is given Charles more time to focus on his racing instead. He's not constantly glancing down at his wrist and wondering when his timer is going to stop ticking - he can just get on with the racing.

He'll find his soulmate eventually, but on his own terms. There's nothing bad about that, surely.

Charles believes that. Really he does.

Except.

Except, if it's true and Charles falls into the first category - the mistaken timing category - then it would mean Pierre isn't his soulmate.

Pierre, who kept the promise he'd made to a seven-year-old who wasn't even his soulmate (because, yes, he had found Charles at the very next French karting cup, and he'd asked to meet Charles' soulmate - and when Charles had to admit that he still hadn't found them, Pierre had hugged him and told him not to give up and that he would find his soulmate someday. Pierre had held Charles' hand and explained that his parents almost didn't find each other, but they did. So it might take Charles some time, but that was okay, because it had taken Pierre's parents some time too, but now they were happier than ever. He'd been so convincing, firm but kind and absolutely sure of himself, and he'd made Charles believe it. He also made Charles smile, genuinely and truly, when he promised he'd stick by Charles' side no matter what anyone else said or whispered about his stopped soulmate timer.)

Pierre, who kept that promise about sticking with Charles, too. Pierre who never stopped being kind, and loyal, and the best friend Charles could ask for, whether he was seven or thirteen or nineteen or twenty-six.

Honestly, how was Charles supposed to not fall hopelessly in love with him?

He tried to deny it. For years and years, Charles tried to deny it - I will find my soulmate someday and it will all make sense, he'd tried to convince himself - but the thing was, what made more sense than Pierre being his soulmate?

It was roundabout the time of Pierre's first win (when Charles was standing under the podium in Monza with an aching back but a heart soaring with joy for his best friend despite the disaster of his own race) that Charles resigned himself to the truth: Pierre is his soulmate.

He has to be. Isn't a soulmate meant to be your perfect match; the person who understands you better than anyone and makes you happier than any other person in the world?

There's nobody else who could make Charles as happy as Pierre does. Nobody, nobody. There's no point in even trying to deny it anymore.

Pierre is his soulmate. But he is not Pierre's.

And that's okay. It's okay.

It has to be.

~

It isn't okay, not really, but that's true of a lot of things in Charles' life, and he's learned how to deal with them. He can deal with this, too.

On the whole, Charles thinks he does a pretty good job of dealing with it. He gets to be Pierre's best friend, after all - isn't that just a different kind of soulmate? True, Charles might want more, but it isn't like he has nothing. He has Pierre, and he will have Pierre for the rest of their lives.

Not in the way he wants, but - at least he will have Pierre.

The one thing he tries never to think about is Pierre's actual soulmate. Because Pierre has one, he knows, and he will meet them at some point.

Charles doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to look at some soulmate of Pierre's, and smile at her, and not be hopelessly, heartbreakingly jealous.

(He will do it, though. He will learn to smile at Pierre's soulmate - for Pierre's sake. He'll do it for Pierre.)

But that's a bridge he will cross when they get there. He doesn't have to worry about it yet (or at least, that's what Charles keeps telling himself even as the months tick by, and he knows there aren't year figures left on Pierre's soulmate timer anymore. Just months now, and then... weeks.)

Charles isn't thinking about it. He's put it out of his mind completely - which is easy enough to do, thankfully, given everything that's been happening on-track this season.

That's probably why he accepts Pierre's invitation to dinner in Montreal without thinking twice about it. (Even if he had realised, though, Charles doesn't think he would have been able to say no, either. He would give Pierre everything, if he only asked.)

So they go to dinner in Montreal, and it's perfect, and wonderful, and laughter-filled, and all in all exactly what Charles needed to distract himself from the fact that he has yet another engine penalty, and the sinking feeling that the championship is beginning to slip out of his reach.

Pierre seems to realise it, because he's in even finer form than usual - teasing Charles and tickling his ribs playfully and making him laugh at every possible opportunity.

Even on the drive back to the hotel: they stop at a red light, and Pierre steals Charles' cap, and Charles is giggling and filming it while Pierre is giggling back, and he's pretty sure neither of them are thinking about it at all, until-

Until Pierre's face changes from laughter to something almost ashen. "Charles," he says, and for all the years Charles has known him, he's never once heard Pierre's voice like that. "My soulmate timer just stopped."

For a few seconds, the words don't even register in Charles' mind.

Then they do, and Charles can feel his heart drop. "What?" he breathes.

His hands shake, and he doesn't even register the fact that the light has gone green as he glances all around them, craning his neck to see if there's anyone behind the white Ferrari, or around to the side.

Just a few minutes ago, their car had been surrounded by fans on all sides, all jostling to try and get pictures of them. But now, somehow, they're all alone in the Montreal night.

(The irony of it all is not lost on him - is this how Pierre felt all those years ago, when he was trying to look for Charles' soulmate at a karting cup, but not finding anybody it could be?)

"Are you sure it stopped just now? And not earlier?" Charles asks, willing his voice not to shake.

"Yeah," Pierre whispers. He sounds... devastated.

"But," Charles says, and then he has to take a deep breath. "But there's no-one else here, Pierrot."

"I know," Pierre says, somehow even softer.

Charles' fingers clench reflexively around the steering wheel, and he's moving in blank autopilot as he puts the car into gear and starts driving forward again.

He doesn't even realise he's shaking his head until Pierre says softly, "Charles." There's something wounded about it.

Charles stops shaking his head and slams on the brakes instead, jerking the car into something he hopes is a parking space at the side of the road.

"I don't understand," he says, far more calmly than he feels. "You can't - I can't be your soulmate."

Okay, maybe he's not so calm after all. But he doesn't think... he doesn't think anyone would be calm, in this situation.

Pierre makes a sound that could almost be a laugh, except that it sounds too strangled. "Do you know," he says, "that I have spent half my life wondering if the soulmate system got something wrong in my case? Because if you're not my soulmate, then who is? Who could possibly..."

Pierre does laugh this time, shaking his head. "You know, I asked to go out with you tonight for a reason. I knew - I knew it would happen tonight, so I needed to..." He swallows. "I needed to see you, one last time. Before I wouldn't be allowed to love you anymore."

It jolts through Charles then, what Pierre is trying to say. "Pierre," he breathes, and now it's his turn to say his best friend's name in a way he doesn't think he's ever said it before.

But Pierre's not finished yet. "I thought I could have one last night with you," he says. "One last night, before I had to say goodbye to my feelings, and try to love someone else."

My feelings. Try to love someone else.

Charles Leclerc is a lot of things, but an idiot is not one of them. He knows what Pierre is saying. He's...

Pierre loves him too. All along, Pierre has loved him too.

Only, he never had the option of thinking we're soulmates, Charles realised, and his heart twists in his chest.

Because Charles, for all that he accepted his soulbond toward Pierre was unrequited - at least he'd had the option of them being soulmates. Yes, it was in a twisted way, but at least he'd had that.

Pierre didn't. And he still fell in love with Charles.

The thought hits him like a shell-shock, and it's enough that Charles can only sit there for a moment, staring blankly, as Pierre continues talking beside him.

"I meant for tonight to just be a quick dinner together, something fun but normal for us," Pierre is saying, wringing his hands. "But I lost track of time. I always lose time when I'm talking to you, Charlito, I could talk to you forever - but the point is, I forgot to tell you I need to go back. I forgot that I was meant to meet my fucking soulmate tonight, because I was spending time with you, and - "

He takes a deep breath, and then he laughs again, leaning forward to drop his head into his hands. "I felt it happen, you know? I knew exactly when my soulmate timer stopped, because I could feel it, and it's - it was when I put that fucking cap on my head, Charles."

The cap that he's still wearing. Charles' 16 Ferrari cap.

Charles' hands shake as he reaches out to touch it, just the brim. "Your soulmate timer stopped when you put my cap on," he says, because a part of him still can't believe that this is real, that he's not living in some kind of heartbreakingly wonderful dream.

Pierre straightens up so fast that Charles is left with his fingers dangling awkwardly in mid-air. "Yes," he says, suddenly looking wild, "but this doesn't have to change anything, Charlito, I promise. I will still help you find your soulmate, and I will - I'll learn how to live with an unrequited bond, it's -"

"No!" Charles interrupts, half-throwing himself across the car to catch hold of Pierre's hands. "No, no, no, no. No more unrequited bonds, Pierrot."

Pierre starts to shake his head, but then he stops in the middle of the movement. "What do you mean," he asks, very carefully, "no more?"

And suddenly, Charles feels giddy, of all things. "I mean, your timer didn't stop when mine did. So for years, I have thought that we can't be soulmates, or at least that you couldn't be my soulmate. But now your timer stopped when you put on my cap, so -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Pierre says, squeezing Charles' hands tightly. "What do you mean, my timer didn't stop when yours did?"

"Oh," Charles says, and then he winces, the weight of the only real lie he's ever told his best friend (the only real lie he's ever told his soulmate) settling onto his shoulders with uncomfortable heaviness. "Um. Well. Do you remember when we met, and you thought I already met my soulmate?"

"No," Pierre breathes, but it's not the kind of no that says "no I don't remember." This no is more like "no way."

"Yeah," Charles says, and he can't help but look down at his own wrist, where the soulmate timer has been stopped for years and years. "My timer stopped the moment I met you, Pierrot."

"You..."

Pierre doesn't look like he knows how to finish that sentence, but Charles understands him anyway. "How was I supposed to tell you? I was seven, Pierre, and your timer didn't stop. I thought it was a mistake for years."

"But?" Pierre asks, like he can tell there was a but.

Charles beams at him. "But, I realised that there was nobody else who could be my perfect match. So I thought you were my soulmate after all, but it was unrequited."

"Never," Pierre says with a fierceness Charles doesn't expect. "Charles, never. If I knew... if I thought I had even half a chance, I would have been with you anyway."

Charles tries to laugh, but it comes out all breathless. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would," Pierre argues, and his voice is heartbreakingly sincere. "I don't care. I would have chosen you."

Charles hears a punched-out noise, and it takes him a moment to realise it came from him. The next moment, he's unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing awkwardly over to sit on Pierre's lap.

It's not quite comfortable, because for all its luxury, the white Ferrari does not have a lot of leg space - but Charles doesn't think either of them give a single fuck, in this moment.

"I love you," he tells Pierre, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I've always loved you, but I never would have stood between you and your soulmate."

"Funny," Pierre says, his hands coming up to grip Charles' hips, "because that's exactly what stopped me from kissing you senseless."

"Well," Charles says, and if he grinds down just a little on Pierre's lap, he'll swear to everyone who asks that it was accidental. "It doesn't have to stop us anymore."

"Never again," Pierre agrees, tightening his grip on Charles' hips. "Never."

"So kiss me senseless, please," Charles whispers, and then he adds "soulmate," and that's what does it. Pierre surges up and kisses him, wild and desperate and more than a little clumsy, but without question the best kiss Charles has ever had. His own cap digs into his forehead a little, but Charles can't even bring himself to care about that - they owe too much to this cap now, honestly.

Maybe the universe does know what it's doing after all, Charles thinks. Maybe the universe just wanted to write a good story for them. A story that goes like this:

Charles' soulmate timer stopped when he was seven years old, and he met the boy with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Almost twenty years later, Pierre's soulmate timer stopped in a white Ferrari in Montreal, and Charles finally got to kiss the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen, the man who is his best friend and his soulmate.

The odds of it working out this way have to be... a million to one, probably, or maybe even less.

But then again, what are the odds that two boys who met at a French karting cup and became friends with a shared dream would both make it to Formula 1?

Maybe the answer is just that Pierre and Charles have always liked beating the odds.

~

(50 Romance Prompts Ask Meme) <- not currently taking more prompts, sorry!

[mariamegale]

A future in the making

Burakhovsky, Rated E, 12,499 words. Chapter 1 of 2.

“I have reached a crossroads,” Daniil eventually admits, squinting out against the Steppe with a sigh. “One with no roads to take. No matter where I turn, it will be a walk into the nothingness of unpaved ground. I think I may stay in your Town for a while, yet.” It’s said in the way he says most things, which is oddly, but Artemy decides to interpret it how he wants to. He steps forward, pulling Daniil into an unresisted if unreciprocated hug. “I’m glad you want to,” Artemy says, realising how true it is. “It is a better Town for having you in it.” That's a blessing. There are so many things he needs to do, people he has neglected, and it's not until the words are out there that he realised how afraid he'd been of having to fix it all alone. OR: Turns out, having to rebuild after the apocalypse - and its end - is a slower process than he'd hoped. OR 2: Artemy just wants his children to be okay. He would also quite like to figure out what the fuck it is he feels towards Daniil, neither of which turn out to be an easy process.

Read it on AO3!

Tags: great that the world didn't end and all but what the FUCK do we do now, Slow Burn, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Kissing, Cuddling, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort of?, as in I am no expert but I believe they all have it, llness Recovery, Sexual Tension, Romantic Tension, Artemy is incredibly tense, Daniil is mostly tense about figuring out how to get kids to like him, Steppe culture, Rebuilding, Socially Awkward Daniil, Socially Awkward Artemy, Turns out a plague is really good at covering up how horrible your people skills are, rated E for future installments, Post-Diurnal

A/N: Before we head on, I want to give a massive shout to the absolutely phenomenal, brilliant and extraordinarely talented @meirimerens , whose headcanons of the Children and their future selves was a massive inspiration for me. Sand Pest is no joke, and I love love love their thoughts on the long-term health effects, with intricate character designs and ever-gorgeous art to boot. Seriously, check it out, I owe half this fic to them and their work.

After much self-debate, I decided this really is a second work after the first, and not so much a 'chapter 2'. With that said, you probably can read this without having read "The future is a house built by people", although I can't guarantee the foundation for Artemy and Daniil's relationship will work flawlessly without it. If that was a story about a single event in their lives and how it pushed them forward, this is about the inevitable flux of limbo that happens after a catastrophe.

The other half of this is mostly written, but I wanted to get this out here. If you'd rather read a finished piece, drop back in a week or so!

[vexy-hexy]

Just came up with a new TMNT 2012 AU I want to write in, like, 20 minutes (well, maybe, IDK if anyone else has come up with something exactly like this)

IDK a name yet, but anyway, here's what I have so far:

Raphael never meant to hurt his brothers while playing, but he always seemed to be a little too rough for them and Sensei would always put him in timeouts. He could understand why

But then there were the times his brothers seemed to push him into a reaction, taking his book or toy from his hands, leading him to try and get it back, or making fun of his poor writing and math skills until he cried frustrated tears. Once, Mikey even ripped his drawing

But he was always wrong

He didn't get it, do his feelings not matter like his brothers’ matter?

Maybe if he was more like Leo, his Sensei would care for him more, maybe then he would matter

But he never was as good as Leo, not to his Sensei at least, regardless of how many moves he mastered, or how helpful he tried to be, or if he beat Leo in their daily sparring matches. In fact, he seemed to get in more trouble if he beat Leo at sparring, always being kept back with his Sensei to go through punishment back flips

He asked once, only to be shut down and told he was imagining it, but after prodding his father more, he… he called him Saki

Saki?

As in… Oroku Saki? The man Sensei said took away everything from him? His love, his daughter?

That Saki?

Splinter saw him as Saki?

Why?

He didn't get to ask, as his Sensei, his father, rushed out of the room, a look of horror on his face

After some thought, he realised that, if Sensei believed him to be like the man who destroyed his prior family, he would prove him wrong. He would protect his family, no matter what, even if it costs him his life

And the first thing he needed to protect them from? Himself

So he begins pulling away, not playing games with his brothers, not trying at sparring in hopes he doesn't hurt them, training more by himself, etc, etc.

Still, it's not enough, because Mikey, upset at being ignored by Raph, pushes him by breaking or losing his favourite toy car (He only planned to threaten it, as children sometimes do, but Raph rushed him. Now the car is gone and Mikey has a black eye from the tussle)

Again, Raph is the only one in trouble. Realising he can't have important things laying around, he sneaks out in hopes of finding a hiding spot for his more prized things. After all, if they can't get to his beloved stuff, he won't feel the need to go at them, right?

As they grow, Raph withdraws more and more, barely even speaking to them unless he has to (he can't get too close to them, if he has to protect them with his life later on, they might be sad. Besides, what if he accidentally hurts their feelings). Hell, he even learned how not to emote

Naturally, Raph ends up in comatose instead of Leo. He shuts down when Shredder kills Splinter because that should've been him. What kind of protector is he?

Sorry for any errors, I typed this whole thing out in 20 minutes while at work, and I've been up since 5AM

ETA, if you wanna expand on this idea more and write a whole fanfic about it, please do

The only thing I ask is that you credit me for the inspiration and that you link me to or tag me in the fanfic because I'm really excited to read whatever people come up with when inspired by my post

[aceofwhump]

The duck walked up to the lemonade stand and he said to the man running the stand…HEY! *bum bum bum*

GOT ANY DRACO WHUMP?

Nonny!! You've come to the right place! Not only have I got some gifsets, I literally just finished reading this amazing fic and I've several others I think you'll enjoy! So, *pours you a big tall glass of Draco whump* Enjoy!

For gifsets (and more) please check out my Draco Malfoy tag here: https://aceofwhump.tumblr.com/tagged/draco%20malfoy

Here is the fic I just caught up on (it's ongoing!!). TW for torture, conditioning, abuse (physical, emotional and sexual), mpreg (the pregnancy part is in the past though).

The Way Out by VickiiMelissa Summary: For a moment Harry thought he was looking at a doll, or chillingly, a dead body. Then Harry spotted the subtle rise and fall of his chest. Harry looked up at the merchant, his expression mildly perplexed and a little annoyed. “What is this?” It was a little difficult for Harry to downplay his surprise. Just three years after the battle for Hogwarts against Voldemort’s forces, Draco Malfoy had gone missing from the home he shared with his mother. Missing for six years, and now here he was.

And some more good fics! Note that I tend to read post Hogwarts fics but there's a few year 8 fics too. Mix of Drarry and Dramoine too:

Happily Forsworn by Elpin for alafaye Summary: Ten years have passed since Draco Malfoy took the Dark Mark. The war is long over, and Draco has been banished to the muggle world. As he and several other Death Eaters start to feel a burning pain, they realise that for some unknown reason, the Dark Mark has awoken, and it's slowly killing them.

my thoughts are the cold kind by lopingloup Summary: There's something wrong with Draco Malfoy and as hard as he tries to hide his failings, Harry Potter seems determined to unearth him.

All Those Broken Pieces by DarkFloralLove Summary: He wasn't pardoned like many other wizards and witches. He was sentenced to five years of Azkaban. After those five years, he didn't know who he was or what to do with his life. Group sessions with a mind healer and other f*cked up people, a social occupation in a bookshop and a parole officer who brought back all kinds of memories… He wasn't at Azkaban anymore, but he still did not feel free. He felt broken, like pieces of glass, scattered all over the floor, in a house that wasn't his home.

Bad Luck by Phoenix_18 Summary: Draco's ill, and miserable and a total mess. Harry is in love with him and needs to take care of him for a couple of days.

I don't know how by donnarafiki Summary: Draco's nightmares are so horrible that he now doesn't sleep at all anymore, instead he lives of pepper up potions, working deep into the night. Until at one point Harry can't take it anymore, and confronts him about it. Turns out they have more in common than they think.

I asked for death but instead I'm awake by orphan_account Summary: When it all just gets to be too much, Draco lets his emotions drip out from his arms, but when he decides to let his life drip out too, who should come along but Potter, ruining everything as usual

and in the darkness, there's light by fuechsli Summary: Unexpectedly, Hogwarts' Eight Year leads to more than the chance to get away from everything just for one more year. It's also the chance to find to oneself, to heal and move on, find forgiveness and maybe even love. It's up to Draco whether to take it or not.

We Sleep In Pairs by darkestbliss Summary: We do not blame flowers for their death. But when Draco’s magic dies after the War, he struggles to forgive himself, and it’s going to take far more than striking up a companionship with Harry Potter for him to heal.

Worthless by LovellLukas Summary: Draco's lips quiver as he desperately tries to hold in his anguish. He admonishes himself for being so weak. He hates himself for it. He hates himself for many reasons. He feels worthless. He knows it's true. He is worthless.

Inaudax by 136108 Summary: Draco Malfoy was not scared, because he was a Malfoy. Malfoys didn't get scared. After all, it was only a boggart.

[deimosphilic]

4 - SAVED ME | NEYTIRI TE TSKAHA MO’AT’ITE

summary : neytiri's grieving, and you're determined to help her.

paring : widowed!neytiri x fem!omatikaya!reader

warnings : angst, mentions of death, panic attack, suggestive content

authors note : UGH

word count : 857

tags : @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @neteyamforlife @ambria @ducks118 @iwantjaketosullyme @verymuch777

masterlist | series masterlist

as soon as you'd left the vitraya ramunong, you jogged back to your kelku and a sudden, overwhelming feeling of anguish wrapped tight around you. as tears pooled in your eyes, ready to spill at any moment, you ran faster. you hated crying in front of people, you hated the pitiful look they gave. you could already see other na'vi staring at you in confusion, curious as to why you were running so fast to high camp.

as soon as you made it back to your kelku, you dropped to the floor and wept. as much as you tried, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. you didn't even know why you were so upset. was it about what jake said? was it about ay'olna? you were stuck in your own head for too long and all of a sudden, you realised you couldn't breathe. anxiety washed over you as you tried to gain control over your breathing, and failed. it took numerous failed attempts to breathe before you heard a soothing voice say,

"syeha si."

you looked up to see neytiri, who must have heard your sobbing, holding your hands in her own. she continued reassuring you, until you eventually calmed down, your face now flushed with tears staining your face. you both sat in silence for a moment, you now embarrassed she had seen you in such a state. you quickly stood up, ridding your loincloth of any dirt.

"are you okay?" she asked, her voice soft and hushed.

"sran, irayo." you managed to breathe out.

you looked at her, really looked at her, and swore the world silenced. you noticed the slight ean in her rim eyes, you counted each and every tanhì on her face, she was captivating. it took more time than it should have to realise she was snapping her fingers directly in front of your face.

"are you listening to me?" she asked, her accent thickening the slightest, even when speaking na'vi.

"ngaytxoa."

she continued rambling yet, you couldn't stop admiring her beauty. you realised what a gorgeous figure she had, her waist, her tits, and when she turned around, her ass. to be transparent, you thought about her fucking you on the small table you had. the though itself got you hornier then ever.

"i am trying to talk to you!" neytiri gained your attention once again, her voice raising a little. you held back a grin when she said that, she was hot when she was annoyed.

she continued once again and this time, you listened. she spoke about your outburst and how she has had many of those these past few moons. she spoke about her children, and how they were coping. how neteyam had a hard time accepting jake's death, until he did and had many restless nights. how lo'ak became numb to everything around him. how kiri had distanced herself from everyone and didn't talk for awhile. and how tuktirey had sobbed for days on end when she realised she would never see her sempu again.

shame. you felt shameful for not listening to her. for not giving her your full attention, instead thinking foolish thoughts that you knew would never come true. you impulsively wrapped your arms around her neck, engulfing her into a warm embrace. neytiri didn't think before snaking her arms around your waist. she had not had a hug from you in awhile, so she was quick to reciprocate it. you managed to get a whiff of her scent, and, oh my, you thought you would have dropped dead right there. how did someone smell so sweet?

before you could pull away, you heard small sniffles coming from neytiri. you felt your whole body freeze up. how were you supposed to comfort her? what should you do? you opted for squeezing her just a little tighter, careful not to suffocate the poor woman.

"it is okay to cry neytiri." you tried, as you felt she was holding in her true feelings.

it went silent, too silent for your liking, before you heard the most gut-wrenching sob come from her. you could tell from her agonising cries she had not given herself time to truly grieve, she had spent so much time helping her children overcome jake's death that she had stuffed her own feelings into the corner of her mind. she was always too selfless you thought. she deserved to be selfish for once, and you helped her do that. you.

as you held her, you thought about grief, the true meaning of grief. the response to the loss of a loved one. the five stages. denial. you thought of her screaming out 'kehe' into the silent night, given eclipse had already passed. anger. you thought of all the bloodshed she caused. bargaining. you thought of her pleading to the great mother to take her instead of him. depression. the sound of her sobs, her deep, heartbroken sobs filled the air. acceptance. you knew she hadn't accepted his death, and you knew it would take time and help. you were willing to give her those. you were determined to help her.

TRANSLATIONS

vitraya ramunong = tree of souls

kelku = home

syeha si = breathe

sran = yeah

irayo = thanks

ean = green

rim = yellow

tanhì = bioluminescent freckles

ngaytxoa = sorry

sempu = daddy

kehe = no

[poppletonink]

FILM REVIEW: Red, White and Royal Blue

★★★★★ - 5 stars

"You need to figure out if you feel forever about him. Do you love him?"

The so-called "Cake Gate" was an accident - I mean, nobody would choose to have a £75,000 cake fall on top of you and your worst enemy. Alex Claremont-Diaz didn't mean to create an international scandal, but it doesn't mean he didn't do it. Now, his mother, the President of the United States needs him to do some damage control in order to not mess up her opportunity of winning the next election. Except, Alex Claremont-Diaz cannot stand Prince Henry and now he has to pretend they're best friends. Yet as Alex and Henry spend more time together, they realise that their hatred towards each other is completely unprecedented and quickly find themselves hurtling into a secret relationship with each other. As the election draws closer, Alex realises that he feels something more for Henry. Alex realises that he is in love with him. The question is what is worth the sacrifice? Is he willing to potentially upend two nations and ruin his mother's campaign? Is true love really worth it?

Red, White and Royal Blue seems like some sort of whacky, wild fan fiction in summary - it's a royal au, follows the enemies to lovers trope and very much so idiots in love. Despite the AO3 tags it perfectly fits into, Red, White and Royal Blue is so much more than it seems. It's a beautiful love story, a tale of hurt, heartbreak and comfort, that emotionally hits the viewer in ways you aren't expecting.

As someone who read the book a long time before the film was even conceptualised, (and as it's one of my favourite books of all time) my standards for how great this film needed to be were extremely - and I mean extremely - high. Despite leaving out bits from the book, which as sad as it may be is understandable due to time constraints, it still hit me just as viscerally as the book. Somehow even though some of the largest plot points (e.g. Bea's cocaine addiction) and most important characters (June Claremont-Diaz who I adore so very much) were missing, it still remained really accurate to the book. That sounds really contradictory, I know, but it was genuinely amazing how many lines they kept word for word from the original novel. It's something that I truly appreciate about recent book to screen adaptations, and I loved the fact that I could notice every time that it happened.

Nick and Taylor's chemistry was off the charts, which is something that seemingly came out of left field for a lot of people, but quite genuinely made the perfect Alex and Henry. They perfectly performed the witty banter, the yearning looks and the complete and utter disdain they have for each other at times. They made Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor real and by doing that they too made history.

Music played quite a large role in this film from the beginning until the end. I think the greatest song choice was undoubtedly Katarina Stratford's anthem. Bad Reputation was a brilliant choice for the theme song - it's such a perfect representation of Alex as a person, of him not caring what other people think and simply doing what he wants to do. It was also great to see Henry's karaoke performance of Don't Stop Me Now by Queen on the screen, and Henry and Alex dancing in the V&A was quite frankly beautiful.

Overall, Red, White and Royal Blue is a must-watch film of 2023. It's raw and emotional; it's a master class in romance; and it's extremely funny. It's a story that will make history.