#i WILL put them on the marked for later tab

[splookiee]

me adding another work to my marked for later list knowing damn well i have 24 pages of works marked for later and i NEVER check them

[rotisseries]

my brother was incredibly shocked to find out I currently have 11 tabs open. I need to start showing him the posts where people say they have 60

[thesunmakesmetired]

"Why is my phone lagging so much?" I ask myself when my tab take a minute or two to load, knowing full well that I have 84 other ao3 tabs open on that browser

[acourtofquestions]

KINGDOM OF ASH (by SJM)

Chapter 48

THE FAMILY REUINION🥹😆😭🫶& MY SOULLL

But when they reached Princess Hasar's battle tent, when they had all gathered around a map of Anielle, they had only a few minutes of discussion before they were interrupted. By the person Chaol least expected to walk through the flaps.

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down.

Nesryn breathed, "Holy gods."

Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

They were mud-splattered, the Queen of Terrasen's braided hair far longer than Chaol had last seen. And her eyes ... Not the soft, yet fiery gaze. But something older. Wearier.

Chaol shot to his feet. "I thought you were in Terrasen," he blurted. All the reports had confirmed it. Yet here she stood, no army in sight.

Three Fae males-towering warriors as broad and muscled as Rowan—had entered, along with a delicate, dark-haired human woman.

But Aelin was only staring at him. Staring and staring at him.

No one spoke as tears began sliding down her face. Not at his being here, Chaol realized as he took up his cane and limped toward Aelin.

But at him. Standing. Walking.

The young queen let out a broken laugh of joy and flung her arms around his neck. Pain lanced down his spine at the impact, but Chaol held her right back, every question fading from his tongue.

Aelin was shaking as she pulled away. "I knew you would," she breathed, gazing down his body, to his feet, then up again. "I knew you'd do it."

"Not alone," he said thickly. Chaol swallowed, releasing Aelin to extend an arm behind him. To the woman he knew stood there, a hand over the locket at her neck.

Perhaps Aelin would not remember, perhaps their encounter years ago had meant nothing to her at all, but Chaol drew Yrene forward. "Aelin, allow me to introduce"

"Yrene Towers," the queen breathed as his wife stepped to his side.

The two women stared at each other.

Yrene's mouth quivered as she opened the silver locket and pulled out a piece of paper. Hands trembling, she extended it to the queen. Aelin's own hands shook as she accepted the scrap.

"Thank you," Yrene whispered.

Chaol supposed it was all that really needed to be said.

Aelin unfolded the paper, reading the note she'd written, seeing the lines from the hundreds of foldings and rereadings these past few years.

"I went to the Torre," Yrene said, her voice cracking. "I took the money you gave me, and went to the Torre. And I became the heir apparent to the Healer on High. And now I have come back, to do what I can. I taught every healer I could the lessons you showed me that night, about self-defense. I didn't waste it-not a coin you gave me, or a moment of the time, the life you bought me." Tears were rolling and rolling down Yrene's face. "I didn't waste any of it."

Aelin closed her eyes, smiling through her own tears, and when she opened them, she took Yrene's shaking hands. "Now it is my turn to thank you." But Aelin's gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene's finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned.

"No longer Yrene Towers," Chaol said softly, "but Yrene Westfall."

Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side.

Yrene's head tilted back to take in the warrior's full height, her eyes widening-not only at Rowan's size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, "Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius."

For that was indeed a wedding band on the queen's finger, the emerald mud-splattered but bright. On Rowan's own hand, a gold-and-ruby ring gleamed.

"My mate," Aelin added, fluttering her lashes at the Fae male. Rowan rolled his eyes, yet couldn't entirely contain his smile as he inclined his head to Yrene.

Yrene bowed, but Aelin snorted. "None of that, please. It'll go right to his immortal head." Her grin softened as Yrene blushed, and Aelin held up the scrap of paper. "May I keep this?" She eyed Yrene's locket. "Or does it go in there?"

Yrene folded the queen's fingers around the paper. "It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own."

Aelin shook her head, as if to dismiss the claim.

But Yrene squeezed Aelin's closed hand. "It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too."

Aelin swallowed hard, and Chaol took that as excuse enough to sit again, his back giving a grateful tinge. He said to the queen, "There is another person responsible for this army being here." He gestured to Nesryn, the woman already smiling at the queen. "The rukhin you see, the army gathered, is as much because of Nesryn as it is because of me."

A spark lit Aelin's eyes, and both women met halfway in a tight embrace. "I want to hear the entire story," Aelin said. "Every word of it." Nesryn's subdued smile widened. "So you shall. But later." Aelin clapped her on the shoulder and turned to the two royals still by the desk. Tall and regal, but as mud-splattered as the queen.

Chaol blurted, "Dorian?"

Rowan answered, "Not with us." He glanced to the royals.

"They know everything," Nesryn said

"He's with Manon," Aelin said simply.

Chaol wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved. "Hunting for something important."

The keys. Holy gods.

Aelin nodded. Later. He'd think on where Dorian might now be later. Aelin nodded again. The full story would come then too.

Nesryn said, "May I present Princess Hasar and Prince Sartaq."

Aelin bowed—low. "You have my eternal gratitude," Aelin said, and the voice that came out of her was indeed that of a queen. Any shock Sartaq and Hasar had shown upon the queen bowing so low was hidden as they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.

"My father," Sartaq said, "remained in the khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was not two weeks behind us when we left."

Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.

Something glittered in her eyes at the confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at Hasar. "Did you get my letter?"

The letter that Aelin had sent months ago, begging for aid and promising only a better world in return. Hasar picked at her nails. "Perhaps. I get far too many letters from fellow princesses these days to possibly remember or answer all of them."

Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke a language no one else could understand, a special code between two equally arrogant and proud women. But she motioned to her companions, who stepped forward. "Allow me to introduce my friends. Lord Gavriel, of Doranelle." A nod toward the tawny-eyed and golden-haired warrior who bowed.

Tattoos covered his neck, his hands, but his every motion was graceful. "My uncle, of sorts," Aelin added with a smirk at Gavriel. At Chaol's narrowed brows, she explained, "He's Aedion's father."

"Well, that explains a few things," Nesryn muttered.

The hair, the broad-planed face ... yes, it was the same. But where Aedion was fire, Gavriel seemed to be stone. Indeed, his eyes were solemn as he said, "Aedion is my pride." Emotion rippled over Aelin's face, but she gestured to the dark-haired male. Not someone Chaol ever wanted to tangle with, he decided as he surveyed the granite-hewn features, the black eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"Lorcan Salvaterre, formerly of Doranelle, and now a blood-sworn member of my court." As if that weren't a shock enough, Aelin winked at the imposing male. Lorcan scowled. "We're still in the adjustment period," she loudly whispered, and Yrene chuckled.

Lorcan Salvaterre. Chaol hadn't met the male this spring in Rifthold, but he'd heard all about him. That he'd been Maeve's most trusted commander, her most loyal and fierce warrior.

That he'd wanted to kill Aelin, hated Aelin.

How this had come about, why she was not in Terrasen with her army ... "You, too, have a tale to tell," Chaol said.

"Indeed I do." Aelin's eyes guttered, and Rowan put a hand on her lower back. Bad— something terrible had occurred. Chaol scanned Aelin for any hint of it. He stopped when he noticed the smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her palms. "Later," Aelin said softly. She straightened her shoulders, and another golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful. That was the only way to describe him. "Fenrys ... You know, I don't actually know your family name."

Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.

"Moonbeam."

"It is not," Aelin hissed, choking on a laugh.

Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. "I am blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?"

Another blood-sworn Fae male in her court.

Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his own tongue. As if he'd heard of Lorcan, and Gavriel, and Fenrys.

Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals. "They're barely housebroken. Hardly fit for your fine company." Even Sartaq smiled at that. But it was to the small, delicate woman that Aelin now gestured. "And the only civilized member of my court, Lady Elide Lochan of Perranth." Perranth. Chaol had combed through the family trees of Terrasen just this winter, had seen the lists of so many royal households crossed out, victim to the conquest ten years ago.

Elide's name had been among them.

Another Terrasen royal who had managed to evade Adarlan's butchers.

The pretty young woman took a limping step forward, and bobbed a curtsy to the royals. Her boots concealed any sign of the source of the injury, but Yrene's attention shot right to her leg. Her ankle. "It's an honor to meet all of you," Elide said, her voice low and steady. Her dark eyes swept over them, cunning and clear. Like she could see beneath their skin and bones, to the souls beneath.

Aelin wiped her hands. "Well, that's over and done with," she announced, and strode to the desk and map. "Shall we discuss where you all plan to march once we beat the living shit out of this army?"

[lightningbig]

its just me and the 300+ open ao3 tabs on my phone against the world

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 11

You just walk into the event site and it's already a win. They gave Abby a paper wristband and she thinks they gave her a bracelet as a gift. It's going to be a fight later when you have to cut that off her.

Bucky leans down to you, "What's the game plan?"

"Maybe we can walk through everything first, to see what they have and see what Abby likes? Is that ok?"

"Sure, whatever you want, doll."

Looking at Abby up on his shoulders, "Let me know when you want me to carry her. Or you can let her walk. She can get heavy."

Giving you an insulted look, "I'm a super soldier. My ruck sack is heavier than she is."

You put your hands up in surrender, "Sorry, Super Soldier." You adjust Abby's backpack on your back and follow them. You weren't sure what they'd have here, so you packed some of Abby's necessities, but you don't think you'll be needing it. There's a section marked off for a dozen or so food trucks, a small stage & tents sent up. Some families where on blankets having picnics. Others were under the tents. "I've never taken Abby to Coney Island or a fair like this before. This is all new to her." You look up at Abby & she is so wide-eyed trying to take everything in.

You stop at the tent of Midway Gallery of Games. You watch people play trying to win stuffed animals & all sorts of prizes. Some of the Agents were yelling & getting rowdy in their competition. You look up and you notice Abby looking frightened & covering her ears. "Baby?" You hold your arms out to her, and she frowns & reaches out to you. "It's ok." Bucky deposits Abby into your arms & rubs her back. "It's a little too loud, huh?" You make your way out of that section & head to the rides. "Ok, this is better. It's quieter out here."

You walk pass the rides, Abby showing zero interest. She has her thumb in her mouth & snuggled into your neck. All the noise and lights were too much for her. You walk a little further and come across a petting zoo. "Abby, look!" You put her down & hold her hand, leading her to the pens.

"It stinky, Mama." Bucky laughs as she scrunches her nose.

"But what are those?"

She squeals, "It's baby duckies!" You let Abby run over to the pen & one of the workers walks up to her with a duckling in her hands and asks Abby is she'd like to pet it. "Mama?" You smile & nod. She's so good & gentle with it. You pull out your phone wanting to get pictures, and the worker takes Abby to a stool to sit & places the duckling in her lap. She's so adorable, You thank the worker & Abby waves goodbye.

"Mama did you sees me? The baby duck sat on my lap!"

"I did, Baby! You were so good with the duckling." And that's how the next half hour goes by. You visit all the babies. PIg, chicken, rabbit, lamb, horses, cows...the baby goats were a little too wild for her. Abby ran to Bucky asking for "upsies".

"I'm ready for a snack. Who wants a treat?" Abby gives you a quick look to see what your reaction is. You raise your hand, so Abby copies you & yells out "Me!" You go to a nearby stand to pick out some lemonade & ice tea in Avenger logo mason jars. You're ready to pay for it, "I'll get it, my treat."

"It's all taken care of. Stark is picking up the tab. The food, rides, games, it's all unlimited."

"That's insane, Buck!" He shrugs and hands you another lemonade. He noticed you were just going to share one with Abby, which you happily take. He grabs a churro for you all to share. He wanted to get one in every flavor for Abby, but you nixed that idea. The last thing you need is for her to get a tummy ache. And you already know you want to get her cotton candy later. That'll be enough sugar to blow her mind.

You take a break to eat your snacks & sanitize your baby after touching all the animals. You bring out the baby wipe & hand sanitizer. Bucky laughs at you, but Abby doesn't care because she now smells pretty, not like the stinky animals.

Now that she's in a better mood, you'll give the rides another round & see if she's interested. She did a round in the jumper house. You're so worried because she's so little and you don't want her to get trampled on, but that's part of being a kid. She fell down & couldn't get back up with all the other kids jumping but she was laughing as she crawled to the wall to get herself back on her feet. She came out of there all sweaty & cheeks pink from laughing.

Then the 3 of you went on the ferris wheel. She didn't want to go until you said you'd all go together & that she could sit in the middle so she'll be safe. She had a tight grip on Bucky's Vibranium arm, but after the first time around, she relaxed and enjoyed it. She could see everything being so high up. Bucky said they could ride it again at night so they could see all the lights and maybe even the fireworks.

The Carousel was next. "Do you want to ride the pretty horses?"

"Oh Mama!" She tries to spin you so she can see her backpack, "It's a unicorn, like i gots!"

Bucky laughs, "You want to ride that one?"

"Yes! I needs to." She jumps up & down. You all wait in line for the next group to enter. Once Abby gets up to the gate, Bucky scoops her up and makes a mad dash to find the unicorn. You hear her screaming with laughter. You try to chase after them. Abby is pointing him in all different directions & giggling. Finally they capture the unicorn for Abby to ride. You take quick pictures of Bucky & Abby with her unicorn. "Mama lookit!"

"It's so pretty! You look like a fairy princess, baby!" There's so much joy on her face you want to break down & cry.

Buck nods over at the horse across from Abby, "Get on."

"No, I don't..."

"Yes, Mama! You needs to!"

"I got her," Bucky resting his arm around Abby's back. "Ride with Abby."

You climb up on the horse as the ride starts and you feel silly and carefree all at the same time. When was the last time you were on a carousel? "Mama, you looks like the fairy QUEEN!"

Bucky looks up at you, "She sure does." You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze.

The ride was over way to quickly. Bucky helps you both off your horses & escorts you outside the gates where Steve awaits you all. "Mr. Captain, you sees my unicorn? I rides him & didn't falls off." Steve so surprised that Abby's even acknowledging him, he laughs.

" You know what? I did. I saw you and your Mama racing up there, and i think you won."

Abby covers her mouth with her hands & giggles, "Mama, I wons you!"

Bucky wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against him, "Did you? Mama was going really fast."

"No, I wons. Mr Captain says so."

"Well, if Mr. Captain says so," Bucky shrugs.

"You guys had lunch yet? Or visited the food trucks?"

"Not yet. Are you hungry Abby? Want to find lunch?" She nods & jumps up and down.

There's so much food and snacks to choose from. The guys end up with BBQ plates and you and Abby are sharing pizza and tacos. You're enjoying your break when Abby stands up on the bench and starts waving, "Frien'! Frien'!" You look around to see who she's calling. "Mama, pretty lady!"

"Natasha."

"N'asha! N'asha!" Abby jumps down & runs to Nat. Bucky's already on his feet ready to follow her. Natasha sees her & picks her up and walks her back over. You can see your baby's mouth moving a mile a minute. "But the goat was jumping and jumping. I's so scared, but Bucky lifts me so they can't gets me."

Taking a seat next to Bucky, "Wow! You had some excitement, huh?"

Climbing on the bench next to you, "It was baby but it was big like me. Ands you know what?"

"What?"

Gulping for air because she's talking so much, "Mama & I race, and my unicorn won. Mr. Captain says I wons her!" Abby claps for herself.

"You won. Not you wons her." You roll your eyes but inside you heart in overflowing with love for her excitement and how everyone is so kind to her. You were so worried about being a single parent and not being able to give your baby the life you wished for her. But you think you'll actually be able to do that. Things are looking up for you both. She's going to remember this day for a long, long time. You both will.

Next chapter

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella

[homunculus-argument]

Okay, so I promised a tutorial on the leather cuff things so here it goes: under the cut because this is going to be a long one

Anyway, first you're going to need a strip of leather (I used a cut of my old belt, the cut-ups in it are not necessary, they're just there because it used to be a studded belt before I pried the studs out and put them on my new belt)

a slightly larger piece of any soft fabric (I used a strip ripped off an old tattduvet cover)

Needle, thread, some proper fabric scissors, sewing tools in general

A lot more soda can tabs than you'd think, and some broken jewellery chain if you like

two pairs of snap buttons

a box cutter (not pictured because I forgor)

And first, take the leather strip and cut the fabric strip to be slightly larger - you can trim it later. Sew them together. If you aren't 100% sure how to do that right, please go ask someone who knows, I have no idea what I'm doing and it probably shows.

Then sew the stick-out half of the snap buttons on one end. It should look better than this, but if it looks like this, don't cry. Nobody but you is going to see this side. Then curve it over to the position it will be when it's done, and mark the parts where the snaps touch the places where you'll cut the holes.

Yeah you heard me right, you're gonna have to cut holes in that motherfucker to get the other end of the snap buttons there. Somebody smarter would probably have done this beforehand or something, but I am not a smart man.

And now that they are there (don't cry if it's ugly, it's ok to be messy and kind of fucked up on the inside for as long as the outside functions), we'll be getting to the decoration part. Next up: tab chain making!

[talesfromlissom]

Hello!!! Your inbox looked loney :). Spare HC's for Optimus, Megatron, Smokescreen and Arcee for a bot!reader who's bigger than them? 😀😀

Reader whose taller than OP, Megs, Smokes and Arcee // TFP || Could be seen as either romantic or platonic

WARNINGS/TAGS - None, enjoy :)

A/N - I go feral when someone makes the reader bigger/stronger than the character they’re shipped with. Guys, give me big af and buff readers; cmon!!!

MEGATRON

He will try to fight you, like 100%. It doesn’t matter if you’re even more loyal to the Decepticon cause than Soundwave. He will try to fight you and won’t stop until he wins. What’s worst is if you let him win, he’ll demand a rematch. 

He thinks your size is excellent for virtually everything except that people will sometimes mistake you for the leader of the Decepticons (if you’re nearby) instead of him. This is primarily the rare, isolated species that the Decepticons stumble across when they travel the galaxy that know nothing of the war. 

If you want to mess with him, put his stuff in high places. Depending on your relationship, he might use you for spare parts, beat the shit out of you, or just begrudgingly ask you to get the object off of the high shelf. 

If you’re strong enough and can pick him up, he’ll be the angriest mech in the galaxy (he already is, but even more so). He’ll flail around, swear at you, and everyone will be shitting bricks and looking away from your ass whopping. Scruffing him like a kitten will guarantee this, but again, depending on how close you are, he might become a grumbling idiot. 

He might ask you to mass displace to feel better about himself sometimes because he’s an asshole

Laughs when your forehead or frame gets stuck/hits doorframes before doing the same thing probably 5 minutes later because he’s also tall 

OPTIMUS PRIME

The shared pain of being tall af is the first thing he thinks of before being wholly weirded out

The only person taller than him on Earth is Megatron, but Megatron also turns into a jet, so he isn’t sure if that counts. 

He most likely gives you a map of the base, marking off doorways and other entrances that are either too big or too small. He’s a big bot and has this map on hand at all times in his own data banks. Its most likely pulled up in the many, many tabs on his HUD. 

Don’t scruff him either. He doesn’t have much plating on the back of his neck, and his back is extremely sensitive due to it mostly being kibble, wiring, and being hit in his back way too many times for comfort. Picking him up regardless will most likely just prompt him to ask you to put him down before he threatens cleaning duty for the next month if you don’t. 

He won’t put you on cleaning duty don’t worry 

If you tease him about it he’ll tell Ratchet and then Ratchet will put you on cleaning duty. Beware the doctor. 

ARCEE

everyone is taller than her, so she doesn’t really care. Is having to crane her neck to look up at you annoying? Yes. 

Imagine that meme of the police officer having to stand on his car to flip the taller person off; that’s her to you on some days. 

Don’t pick her up either; she’ll stab you; she absolutely hates that. She’s like an angry chihuahua when that happens.

She’s less likely to fight you if you are helping her. Sometimes, she likes to use you as a perch to climb onto things or just to be high up. Sometimes, she also likes to sit on your shoulders to pretend she’s tall. 

She’ll probably use you for shelter during rain, snow, etc. 

She claims she does it with everyone and you’re not special (you are) 

SMOKESCREEN

He’ll also perch on you like Arcee, but it's for silly reasons rather than a tactical advantage. 

If you have audio fins or something along those lines, he’ll grab those and pretend to use them like joysticks. Indulging him will encourage this behavior; do not fall for it. 

He likes to feel tall and will ask a lot of questions about what it's like to be tall, which is ironic given that he technically is of average height. 

Failing to answer these questions will result in more. 

Honestly, he’ll also hide underneath your frame while it's raining. He hates the rain because it gets mud all over his paint and undercarriage. It's annoying to clean out, and you’re the perfect umbrella, in his opinion. 

He can and will laugh at you for banging your head on doorways before he walks into the wall right next to you or trips over something. 

WORD COUNT - 686

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[am-i-interrupting]

Affection | Vox x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vox and Valentino get into it. Vox looks for a way to get payback and stumbles upon you. He didn’t expect you to actually care.

Warnings: sex work, a bit of a mommy kink

He was used to the petty yelling, the constant spats, even the object throwing. What crossed the line was when he had to replace his screen.

Vox and Valentino got into a lot of arguments, normally started by the latter instead of the former. This one was bad though. Vox didn’t even want to think about it but it was all that was on his mind.

He was angry.

He was angry because it was easier to be angry rather than something else, something more vulnerable. He didn’t want to and couldn’t afford to be vulnerable right now. He had to hold onto this anger so he didn’t go crawling back to Valentino.

Currently, he was at his desk, looking through documents about ads that were just waiting for Vox’s stamp of approval. He stumbled upon yours and he paused.

He recognized you. Why?

He copied your name into a search bar and looked at your Sinstagram profile. Flipping through the pictures, he found one of you at a bar and that’s when he remembered.

Valentino tried to contract you and you’d basically laughed at him. You’d tossed back a shot and then turned to Valentino, asking if he needed you to pay for it since he was clearly so desperate for new recruits as he was only preying on people too stupidly drunk to realize how bad of an idea it was to say yes. Oh, he remembered Valentino seething that night.

He approved your ad but he couldn’t get you out of his head. He opened the closed tag again as he actually read through your ad.

You were advertising music. Which, when say side by side with your Sinstagram made sense as he saw a picture of you with Verosika Mayday. There wasn’t really anything interesting on the advert.

He scrolled up to the top of your Sinstagram in order to look at them in order from most to least relevant. That is when he caught sight of a link in your bio. He clicked it.

He was brought to a website. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he did raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was an escort sight. A home page that had you and several other people scantily dressed with a description of what every person and the services you offered.

Maybe he was being more vindictive than he thought because he immediately clicked on the tab that sent him to your page and booked a time with you.

It was far out, months away in fact. He honestly had forgotten about it until he got an email the week before asking if he was still available and inviting him to a pre-session consultation. Not willing to back out and have it potentially mess with his image, he made the time.

He logged into a video call several days later and was greeted with you in the middle of putting on your makeup.

“Well, hello, Mr. Vox,” you said with a soft purr. He replied with a formal greeting of your name. “You’re a busy guy and I’m a busy gal so I’ll keep this quick. This is just a little meeting for boundaries. I know it bothers some people to make them in person so I’ve found this to be an easier way.

“I’ll go first. No hickies, no bruises, no scratches, no cuts, no burns, just no marks. It might be pretty and fun in the moment but it costs me later. Not everyone enjoys having sex with someone who’s clearly had it with someone else not long before. It may be part of my work but people do like an illusion.

“I don’t do bondage where I’m the one tied up. It’s nothing personal, just a safety issue. On the topic of safety, if you bring in anything that could be used as a weapon. I’m done and you’re leaving. All I need from you is that pretty little body of yours and payment. I’ll provide the rest.

“On the topic of payment, I know you’ve already made your upfront payments for this little consultation. The rest can be brought when you come in cash. Any questions so far?”

He surprised himself by saying, “Not so far, no.”

You we’re far more thorough than he thought. He’d bought time before but it was never this professionally done, even by Valentino’s standards. Granted, with Valentino’s sex workers, there was really only one rule, payment upfront. He didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

You though? You had clearly given this a lot of thought on all parts.

“Good, I’m glad,” you said. “Those are my hard rules. Everything else is a little more flexible. So, tell me, what is it you want from tonight?”

“To have a good time.”

“Of course, we all want to have a good time, Vox, but I’m talking specifics. Don’t be naive,” you said. “I have full confidence you know better. Maybe it’d be easier if I told you what I’m best at.”

The lid of your lipstick clicked closed. You looked at the camera, looking at him directly on his screen by proxy, for the first time.

“I can do just about anything your cold, dead heart desires but I enjoy specific things more than others. I’m a bit of a dominatrix, I’d you will. I enjoy the power and control of giving people what they need instead of what they want. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds to me like a very overlord thing to do,” he replied.

“Not there yet,” you said. “So, is that the role you prefer to play?”

“It’s one I play often.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that but do you prefer it?”

Vox didn’t know why he didn’t just say yes. He should have. It went with his image to say yes and that’s why he was still agreeing to do this even though he and Valentino weren’t on the worst of terms right now.

He hadn’t crawled back to Valentino yet. It’d been one of their longer spells away from one another. Five months without even falling back into bed once.

Perhaps that’s why he said what he said. He was pent up. He hadn’t had time to unwind and the person he normally would go to for that he was still upset with. That’s the reason he’d go with anyway.

“It’s the role I play most often,” he said.

“But is it the role you like?” you asked. When he didn’t answer you smiled, a more genuine one than any flirty or sarcastic one you’d shot his way before. “Stubborn, I’ll keep that noted.”

“I am not—“

“You’re proving my point. Now,” you stood up and rummaged through a drawer he couldn’t see, “pick a set for me.”

For the next several hours, Vox felt like he couldn’t focus. He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been nervous over a one night stand.

He left early, leaving his assistant with double the workload but he didn’t care. He just needed to be out of the building.

He took Vark out on a walk to pass time but it still went by so slowly. It took what felt like days for it to finally be time to leave.

He’d call it considerate that he left without his usual suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie but in reality, he felt so hot, constricted with them on.

He traveled through the cameras and arrived at the address he’d been given, not a single person having seen him.

He knocked on the door and that sense of security was promptly shattered when it opened and he heard someone say, “Holy shit!” in response to seeing him.

He glared at the offending person as he stepped in. He recognized them from being pictured on your website. They quickly spun around and continued doing whatever it was they were in the process of.

He was led to a room which when opened revealed you inside. You were wearing a shear robe that gave him a peak at what was hiding underneath.

“I was promised secrecy,” he said. “Not to be gawked at by the employees.”

“So you don’t want to be gawked at me?” you asked. You smiled at your own joke. “Everyone here is under contracted lock and key to not say a single word about what goes on inside these walls. You’re image will be fine.”

“Contracted?”

“You said I had the makings of an overlord,” you replied. “Why are you suddenly surprised that I have contracts? Don’t worry, I assure you they’re much more ethically sourced than your co-worker’s.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of,” you said as you took several steps towards him, “why are you here? I’d imagine you could have any of Valentino’s contracted cash free. Why waste it on me? I’m not exactly cheap.”

You held out your hand and he reached into a pocket to retrieve the other part of your payment. You swiftly began counting it.

“You fuck one of Valentino’s pets, you’ve fucked them all,” he said. “They’re all too scared to be any fun after a while.”

“As much as I know that’s a true statement—“ you put the cash in a drawer of the bedside table— “I don’t believe it.”

He felt his eye twitch. “And what exactly would you—“

“Why don’t you take off your shirt and lay on the bed?” You walked towards him and ran your hands up his torso. “Or I could take it off for you.”

You began unbuttoning his shirt and for some reason, it made him drop all his irritation. When you finished, you bent down and licked all the way up his torso. You kissed and nipped at his collar bone.

His hands went to your sides but you spatted them away. The shirt fell to the ground.

You looked up at him, like you were daring him to kiss you. However, when he went to do just that, you stepped away.

“On the bed face down, mister,” you told him.

He huffed. Despite his mind telling him to grab you and pull you in for a kiss, take you and remind you of who exactly you were messing with, his body followed your instructions.

The mattress dipped as you straddled him. Something popped open (he tensed), a bottle clinked as it was set on the table, and then the sound of you rubbing your hands together went through the air.

Your hands, warm against his skin and slick with oil, began to rub up and down his back.

“Why are you here, Vox?” you asked. “I’m not stupid. I keep up with the news. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that the day you made an appointment was the same day you updated your status to single again? It’s still single now so what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said.

“Uh-huh, and the fact that you visibly tensed as soon as I mentioned Valentino is just a coincidence,” you said. “Everything you say in these walls stays within them.”

“You’re the one who made the contracts,” he said. “You’re not under them.”

“True, but—“

You began to apply pressure with your thumb, grinding your thumb and hand in circles along his back.

“Oh, fuck.”

“—I also made them,” you said, basically repeating his words. “It means I place value in confidentiality.”

“Or covering you’re own— oh, fuck, right there— your own ass.”

“I could be.”

You leaned down and he felt toy trap his entire torso beneath you. He liked the feeling. He liked the feeling of you over him.

You got close to his face, “But I think we both know I’m not.” You moved back and he mourned the feeling as soon as it was gone. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re just very obviously tense and not just physically.”

You punctuated your sentence by rolling the palm of your hand at the base of his neck before squeezing it lightly. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling of some tension leaving his body.

You continued on like that in silence for a while. You were working out the knots in his muscles and he was basically putty beneath your hands.

He’d never been treated like this before. He had couldn’t remember the last time he felt loose. There was always some kind of feeling of unease he constantly carried.

He didn’t even know he needed this because he’d never known that he could have it.

You leaned to once again lay over him but this time he could feel the entire weight of your body instead of just your warmth. You wrapped your arms underneath his shoulders and placed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you alright to continue?” you asked him as you nuzzled against his shoulder blade.

“I—“ He tried to search for some witty or snarky remark to make but all he could come up with was, “Yes.”

You cooed at him and slipped your hands out from underneath him to rub his back as you got off him. “Using your words, what a good boy,” you said and he hated, hated how that made him feel so warm inside. “Can you turn around for me? Yes, good.”

He closed his eyes and refused to look at you. You laughed but it didn’t feel mean. That didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed, however.

You did a wider, full handed version of the back massage you’d given him to his front as you began to roll your hips against his. He couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Oh, so pretty,” you said. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty boy.”

“Fuck,” it came out weak and pathetic.

Well, it was fitting then because that’s how he felt, weak and pathetic. Such simply praise shouldn’t be so effective.

“How does that feel?” you asked. “Come on, be a good boy. Tell me. Tell me how to make you feel good, baby.”

You were kissing on his neck and shoulders now.

“Good,” he choked out.

You hummed against his skin.

He could feel his fingers flex. His arms moved. He stopped them. He wanted to touch. He should be able to touch. He should be able to do what he wanted. He was the fucking Vox, overlord and creator of the biggest tech company in Hell. He shouldn’t need permission to do something.

You grabbed his hands and brought them up to the knot of your robe.

“You can touch me, baby,” you told him.

A whine forced its way out of his throat no matter how much he tried to keep it at bay.

He opened his eyes and you were so beautiful, grinding against him like you were made to. He could feel his cock straining against his pants. He wanted them off.

He settled for untying your robe. It fell to reveal the deep blue set he’d chosen for you earlier that day. It was sheer enough to show off your nipples through the cross crossed pattern of the bra. There was a silver chain that draped between the cups and further framed your breasts. Some traps went around your torso as part of the garter belt which held up your similarly colored stockings. You looked gorgeous.

You laughed and guided his hands up to your waist. Then up to your tits.

“I love the way you keeping whining for me,” you said. “You’re like a little pup.” Your eyes honed on his neck and your hand followed your gaze. You pressed on his neck, just enough to add some pressure. “That neck of yours looks like it was made to be collared and leashed.”

“Oh fuck.”

You leaned closer to his face. “Would you like that, baby?”

His fingers twitched around your breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over your clothes nipples as a silent apology. “Please.”

“Oh, such good manners.” You applied more pressure to his neck, not enough to cut off his air supply. He arched into your touch. “But not tonight. Some other time, I promise. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing you plenty, baby.”

You went to nip at his neck. His hands wrapped around to your back to hold you in place. Your own traveled down his torso and to his belt.

You undid it. You pulled down his pants but not his underwear. You slipped from his grasp.

You put your hands on either side of his bulge and ran your fingers over it. His legs spread open further as he tried to push up but you quickly put an end to that little action.

Your hands on his hips, you hovered your head over him. You licked a stripe onto the fabric. You began to suck him off with the barrier of his boxers.

He knew he was whining. His eyes wanted to screw shut but he kept them open, too transfixed by the visage before him.

Your own eyes were closed. Your hands, perfectly constraining his boxers, were wrapped around his hips. The tips of your perfectly manicured hands were digging into his skin. Your tongue lulled out and lavished him.

He could cum from just this alone.

However, as soon as the thought came to him, you pulled away.

“No, no, no, please, please, let me come,” he said, words flowing from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Aw,” you said with a chuckle, “begging so soon? How sweet. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to come soon. I’ve just got to see that little dick of yours first.”

The small bit of degradation mixed with all the praise made him twitch.

He’d never gotten any negative comments on his dick before. Rather the opposite, Valentino had tried several times before to talk him into at least faceless camera work but he didn’t want to think of the moth right now.

You pulled his underwear down to reveal his cock. It was length, a deep blue like the rest of him except were it was flushed vibrantly at the tip. He was already leaking pre-come. Milky white against his flesh.

You leaned over to lick it up. His eyes rolled back at the simple action.

Your smirked before you took him all your mouth at once. You slowly pulled up and let your teeth pull at the hood of his tip.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He thrusted up into what was now just air as he twitched, his whole body convulsing but he didn’t come. He was on the verge though.

You shushed him as you stroked his inner thigh with your nails.

“Be a good boy for me and hand me the lube,” you said before you began sucking on the skin above his pelvic bone.

His hand went to your hair as he closed his eyes and moaned. It took him a moment to open them again but you didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t feel rushed.

When was the last time he hadn’t felt rushed while having sex? He couldn’t even remember. It was always about getting back to work as soon as possible or Valentino’s quick hits. It was never really about him. It was about getting rid of his boner or Valentino’s as soon as possible.

He liked this. He liked this feeling of. . . being cared for?

God, he was so fucking pathetic. He could feel tears filling his eyes as he reached for the lube on the bedside table.

“Are you alright, baby?” you asked. “Do you need to stop.”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Okay, we don’t have to stop. We can keep on going,” you said as you poured some lube into your hands. “You just keep on being a good boy for me, alright? You can cry if you need to, baby. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

That permission made it worse. He felt his face flush as tears began to stream down his face. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. He shouldn’t be crying. He’d rarely ever cried. Much less during sex, especially sex that he was enjoying.

“Can you bend your— oh, such a good boy,” you said.

You hooked his bent knees over your legs and pulled him into your lap.

You wrapped your hands, covered in warm lube (when was the last time someone had took the time to warm up lube before touching him?), around his cock and began slowly twisting your hands up and down. He couldn’t stop the weak thrusts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, repeating the phrase like a prayer.

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay,” you told him, petting his thigh. “You take what you need. You’ve been so good for me. So good. You deserve it.”

“Fuck.”

He threw his head back against the pillow and then looked down at you. He immediately met your eyes, so soft and understanding. It made his stomach queazy.

He watched as his dick slowly was covered then revealed by your hand. It curved around him so perfectly, glistening with a mixture of lube and the pre-come he was leaking. You twisted your hand in just the right way.

You covered his cock and then revealed the head. You thumb lingered and smeared the pre-come at his tip. The point of your nail ever so gently grazed his hole and that’s what did it.

The lights flickered in the room as he spasmed and came. His screen went blank as he blacked out.

A few seconds later, he came to with you by his side with a glass. You tilted his head up and cupped your hand under his lips as you forced him to drink, any water that spilled was dropped in your hand.

You grabbed a cloth and wipes at his screen.

“Are you okay, baby? Was that good?” you asked and he could only mutely nod. “Good.”

You went to pull him into an embrace but stopped and looked down at your body. “Do you wanna clean me up or do you want me to do it?”

He followed your gaze and saw his come covering your torso, a bit of it even clinging to your bra. He leaned to lick it off you. You reclined onto the thrown of pillows and let him, stroking his shoulders and arms as he did.

He licked up to your bra and then was met with the rough contrast of the lace-like fabric compared to your smooth skin. He reached around and undid the bra. You let it fall and he licked where the come had been. Then he began sucking on your breasts.

“Oh, fuck,” this time it was you.

Spurred on, he reached down between your thighs and began stroking. You were wet, so fucking wet. His fingers slid through your folds with no hint of resistance.

He rolled your clit between two knuckles.

“Oh, so good for mommy,” you said as you continued petting him. “So good.”

He whined at both the praise and the title you had given yourself.

He began stroking you with a different purpose now. He needed you to come. He looked up at you, still sucking on your tit. He needed to see it.

Your breath quickened. Your pets turned into a tight hold. It was your turn to whine as your head rolled back and your mouth lulled open.

“So good! So good for me, baby, just like that,” you said right before you became incoherent. You groaned and moved up into his touch.

He went back to the tower feeling better than he could ever remember. The set you’d worn tucked into his pant pocket. You insisted, saying you had plenty of other sets. Who was he to refuse?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Velvette asked.

“Out,” he said as he walked passed her, in no mood for her screeching.

“For over two hours with your location turned off? You didn’t even answer your fucking phone,” Valentino said, voice raising to nearly as yell towards the end.

“Yes,” Vox said as he continued walking.

He heard Valentino laugh as he must have seen the lingerie set in his back pocket. “Were you really so busy fucking a hole that you couldn’t answer me? I hope they were good.”

“Better than you ever were,” Vox said before he closed his bedroom door, unwilling to let his lax mood be ruined.

A few months later, Vox was still going to see you. Absolutely hooked and you both knew it but so were you. You didn’t even made him pay but he still slipped money into your pocket or your bra so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he was getting attached.

That was all thrown out the window when you released a new song. He wasn’t even halfway through watching the music video before he disappeared and found you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss and you knew exactly why.

The imagery in the music video was obvious. Pink smoke trying to creep into your studio only to be blocked, a deep blue body, TV screens everywhere. Then there were the lyrics:

I can give my babe affection without any type of infliction

You were just an intermission but I’m the center of attention

I’ve got him collared and leashed right where he needs to be

He’s down on his knees begging me with please

Better than any of his fantasies

Yeah, I’ve got his attention without infliction

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere Detective Mark Hoffman Would Include:

When Mark is in love with someone, he’s extremely protective of you and tends to get jealous very easily. He’d be possessive and clingy, not liking if you hang around other people, other than him of course. He’d usually only have sweet spots towards his lover, being extremely nice and gentle, but if any other man/woman even so much as looks at you, Mark is quick to step in and show them who you belong to.

But he can also be paranoid and very distrustful, always being on the lookout for where you’ll be, what you’ll be doing, and who you’ll be with. His paranoia would often lead to him accusing you of things, usually cheating, even though he has no proof at all to back up his claims

He’d also be very affectionate, loving to be close to you at all times. He’d never admit it, but he loved clingy gestures such as snuggling and kissing. Mark has a soft side for you, and he’d be the one who is the cuddler, not afraid of showing that side of himself behind closed doors

He’d have moments of sweetness, spoiling you and showering you with gifts (and affection, even though he’s not great at showing it), but he can get irritated and jealous very quickly - his behavior being cold and aggressive. He’d have a very “if I can’t have you, nobody else can” mindset, getting very obsessive over you.

He’d probably also always keep tabs on you no matter where you are, and would constantly be at your side, especially when you’re with other male/female friends, so he can make it known that you are his, as he is extremely possessive and territorial.

He’d probably be very obsessed with getting you to give him all your attention to him. He’d probably get extremely pissed off if you pay more attention to your friends or other people than him, to the point it seems he’s borderline trying to guilt trip you.

He’s usually quite quiet and stoic, only really taking in information. However, when in front of other men, he’d probably try and put on his tougher side. He’d definitely try to let everyone know he was the “alpha male” in certain situations, as he is a very proud and stubborn guy. He’d often put his hand on your waist or shoulders, showing you were his, as well as glare at any men who looked your way.

His rewards are usually quite simple. Mainly stuff like gifts, praises, more affection, etc. However, he has a few darker sides for rewards too. If someone is hitting on you, he’d probably drag you somewhere to show you off to him and show that you were off limits to everyone except him.

Punishments were a little different. He’d probably make you stay home and be by his side 24/7, to make sure you’d do nothing at all, and so he’d be able to see you at all times, ensuring you didn’t do something that’d get on his nerves, making him mad. He’d also probably have a go at you, probably making snarky comments about how you’re “dumb” or “pathetic”, but would still make up in the end.

If he believed that his loved one was to never leak the information, he’d more than likely tell you about his involvement with Jigsaw, though if he didn’t trust you enough, he’d keep that information from you to keep you safe. He’d most likely tell you about his job as a detective, and maybe even why he got into it, but the full story wouldn’t really be revealed till a lot later, as he’d have to trust you very well to fully trust you with such secrets.

He’d probably be the type to keep something from the person he had his eyes on, such as pictures or something. Like a mini stalker shrine. He probably has one in his office and keeps some pictures of you in his bedside drawer, but if you found out about the more “intense”, stalker side of things, he would probably brush it off as a joke, as he’d probably be slightly embarrassed.

If he’s planned a date, he’d always plan everything perfectly. Down to the smallest detail. He’d also probably make sure it was somewhat fancy as a nice way to treat his lover. But he’d always be on the lookout to see if you were having a good time, as well as looking out to see if other men/women were talking to you. He doesn’t like others stealing his darling’s attention.

His work peers would usually find his relationship status interesting. They’d find him a lot less aggressive when being around you, making a few remarks saying he’s a lot calmer than usual. However, other men would often have a jealous gaze, as his tough alpha behavior always comes through, and often make a few remarks towards you and him, saying you’re only a trophy for him to show off and own.

John wouldn’t seem all that surprised with Mark’s love life and would have been suspecting he had feelings for you for a while. Amanda would be a lot more judgmental, making a few comments about how you could do better and that you should “save yourself before you get stuck with him” and other snarky comments like that.

Without hesitation. He’d kill anyone who tries to hurt, manipulate, and even look at you. He’d even kill a fellow detective if you were ever looked out for a case. He’d kill pretty much anything to keep his lover safe and by his side.

I’d honestly imagine he’d do a fancy and well-thought-out marriage proposal. He would have it planned out and would take you for dinner, before getting on one knee and asking you to marry him. He’d 100% have a traditional wedding, always getting you to wear the big wedding dress and walking you down the aisle with everyone’s eyes on you. He’d absolutely make sure everyone saw his lover all perfect and beautiful on his wedding day.

He’d keep an eye on his children at all times, making sure no one hurt or even paid attention to them apart from him and you. He’d get jealous of other kids playing with his children and would make a few comments in a joking yet harsh way, saying his children are already his and he doesn’t need to share.

He’d probably be a bit disappointed, though he’d still love you just as much. He’d probably still joke about it, saying things like “I can teach you the birds and bees anytime” etc. He’d still love you regardless, although children are important to him, but so is the person he loves, so he is able to set his own needs aside and put you first over his own needs.

"From the moment I met you, I knew I had to have you. Your every touch, every smile, every word, everything about you is precious to me. I need your presence like I need air to breathe. The very thought of losing you is too painful to bear. I want to hold you close and never let go. With you by my side, I feel complete and whole. I want to give you the world and keep you safe, for eternity and beyond. Please, let me take care of you, care for you, and protect you. Let me love you, completely and unconditionally, forever."

Forced orgasm denial - Bringing you to the brink of climax repeatedly, then denying you release until you're completely spent and shaking.

Voyeurism - Watching intimate acts from afar, either secretly or openly, adds an extra layer of excitement to him.

Edging - Keeping himself right at the edge of orgasm for extended periods, riding the waves of pleasure without letting go.

Sadomasochistic roleplays - Acting out scenarios involving torture, imprisonment, or other forms of suffering for the thrill and power trip.

Sensory deprivation - Using blindfolds, earplugs, or other methods to heighten sensitivity and awareness of touch.

Spanking - Giving and receiving hard spanks across the ass, adding color and sting to your sessions.

[arafilez]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, SMILE ㅤ—ㅤ ﹙★﹚

one night of spontaneity is all yeosang wants before he is back to the same routine. and you are just the right, gorgeous distraction !

PAIRING ﹕ k.ys x fem!reader ㅤㅤ✸ㅤㅤ GENRE ﹕ model au ㅤstrangers to lovers ㅤ fluffㅤ pg13 ㅤ﹢ㅤ 1.5k wc ㅤ—ㅤ WARNING ﹕ kiss, alcohol

EVENT ﹕ @pirateeznet second anniversaryㅤ⋆ㅤGRAPHICS ﹕ banner @kessavyo ㅤ﹢ㅤ moodboard @daemour

Lights! Camera! Bitch smile! Even when you wanna die.

Yeosang’s life has always been one of the most boring TV shows. Clicks of cameras, lenses shuttering, a smile that might as well be stitched by now and his body clad in designer clothes, he stands on the runway of Milan, under the glimmering lights of Italy.

A sigh leaves his lips, his porcelain-like skin crinkling the slightest as he plops down on the couch in the hotel lounge after what feels like the longest event in his entire career. But then again he knows he thinks that after every event, he drinks up his rosé wine and stumbles back to his room for the next day.

You have to suck it up, you chose this life yourself.

He is so immersed in twirling his glass on the table, smiling tipsily at the drink inside threatening to spill but never doing so, he does not notice when a figure slides down on the chair opposite to him. A short breath and clink of heels later he looks up, eyes meeting yours.

He opens his mouth to say the same sentence he has chanted like a mantra, sounding like a maniac to himself when he repeats it over and over, the usual ‘sorry no pictures or signatures allowed during my relaxation time’, you beat him to it and say, “Hi sorry if you don’t mind can I sit here? The other places aren’t really empty.”

Nervous whisper, hesitant smile and a dazzling voice.

For a moment he feels alive all over again before it dies. Probably just an excuse.

Yeosang slowly turns around in his seat ready to call out your bluff when he realises you aren’t lying. The chairs are actually filled with people chattering all around and reality slowly drips back to the slight haze he had let himself be covered in. “Sure,” his deep voice resonates between you two and you sigh in relief, putting down your bag and returning to your tablet.

His eyes fix on your features, long and droopy eyelashes, loose strands of hair along your nape, pursed lips as your hands move in a flawless manner over your tab. Yeosang has been an introvert all his life, never having the courage to even tap someone and talk to them so when his voice comes out he doesn’t even recognise it himself.

“Hi!”

“Hey!” you smile, putting down the tablet and the pen you were using on the table as you look at the man in front of you. He is quite literally flawless and looking at him you could tell either God really had favourites or he himself was a God.

“I am Kang Yeosang, nice to meet you,” his voice becomes shakier with each word, cursing himself for taking the initiative and actually talking when he probably has never started any conversation in his entire life.

“Y/n, nice to meet you too,” your grin widens as you hold out your hand and he takes it lightly. You notice the hesitance and curiosity burning in his gaze as he leaves your hand and continues staring at it.

You look at him discreetly slowly letting it sink in that the man in front of you is drop-dead gorgeous. High nose-bridge, perfect, accentuated lips, deep beautiful voice and the mark beside his eyes that feels intriguing.

Maybe it is the lighting of the lounge or the fact that you had had more than one drink for the night before you had made your way towards this enticing stranger, courage brimming in your system.

Elegance, sophistication, money. Things you could only dream of being a part of.

“So, Kang Yeosang, here for a nice little Italian trip?” the question easily slides up your lips. Maybe you just want to be a part of it for one night, one single night and maybe you could just get a taste of whatever eludes with sophistication in front of you.

He looks at you, now twirling the empty glass in his hand, and mouths, “Work.”

“So much work it requires you to be alone?” a slightly enunciating tone and Yeosang raises an eyebrow chuckling at the unasked question. What could hurt if he is actually bold and daring one night?

“Yes, unless I want to get caught in a scandal,” he notices the light change in your demeanour as soon as the sentence leaves his lips, your fingers which were lightly drumming the tablet screen now hovering unsurely, eyes widening for a millisecond before you regain your composure and hum lightly.

“I am a famous model,” he adds, finding it a bit odd how someone who is designing a suit on her tablet has never seen modelling shows. He doesn’t say it out loud, enjoying his boldness a bit too much for his liking.

One night.

One night before he goes back to the usual.

Lights! Camera! Bitch smile! In stilettos for miles.

“Well, if I had known that this is what I missed, I sure would have paid more attention to the boring walking shows,” a hint of mischief burns in your eyes as the sentence leaves your lips. Yeosang’s eyebrows raise to your flirty tone as he meets your eyes in a glance far too heated for a stranger.

You seem to be so much trouble! Gorgeous, messy, spontaneous trouble! Yet the trouble is what he likes.

“Bold for a designer to say that,” he leans across the table deliberately pulling your glass towards him and pushing it up to his lips for one sip.

One single sip and a rage of unwanted heat travels down your body.

Your eyes lock with his and travel down his defined cheekbones, down to his lips glistening in the aftertaste of the wine, your wine and down to the glass he is holding rather carelessly.

“Wanted a taste,” you hear his deep voice forming a silver lining over the deafening buzz in your ears.

“Only the drink?” you challenge, albeit bolder than you have been your whole life. The man in front of you is straight out of Greek mythology and it would be utterly stupid to let this opportunity go. Especially since he actually made a move.

“Mine’s finished,” he reasons, mischief sparkling in his eyes making you chuckle as you reply, “You can always refill.” “Where’s the fun in that?” his deep laugh travels down your spine and a range of emotions spark inside your body.

You don’t know how you end up in the fountain side from the couch. All you can remember his warm hands engulfing yours and a few whispered nothings later you are giggling by the water. The moon makes a clear reflection on the monuments and quite frankly it accentuates his features even more.

“Has anyone ever told you you are beautiful?” Yeosang’s voice reaches your ears much to his own surprise. Sober Yeosang would have never even thought about this and even though he had just had one glass, blaming it on alcohol felt so much easier. Freer.

He must have lost his mind, being so high on the night and blatantly complimenting a stranger he has met a few hours prior. One night, his mind resonates and he lets the worries easily slide to the back of his mind.

“Has anyone ever told you that the birthmark can be kissed all day long? And possibly every day!” The last part comes out as a whisper and you have no idea what you are doing. Any other time your mind would be blaring with the ‘Stranger Danger’ alert but tonight you just want one taste.

One taste of the man who eludes an amount of elegance you have never dreamed of reaching.

You let out a satisfied hum when you feel his mouth on yours, hands carelessly pressed against his chest. His fingers trail down your jaw enunciating kiss after kiss forming a cloud of haze over any rational decisions in your mind. When your fingers tangle in his hair he lets out a light groan, pressing your bodies to each other wanting to take anything the night is willing to give you two.

No camera, no reporters, nobody is watching you two but Yeosang is scared. More than he has ever been in the spotlight and he is not even in the spotlight right now.

Yeosang doesn’t know what is happening from here. He has never plunged into a risk so bad. But he knows- trouble is what he likes. So one night. One night before it dissolves into the harsh reality of tomorrow! One night before he has to hear the same “Lights! Camera! Smile.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—ㅤ—

The smooth lining of the cloth wraps around Yeosang’s skin as he stands in the flashes of the camera on the Milan runway. He feels alive, free and happy to stand there and flaunt a cloth of his personal favourite designing line.

When he turns back and meets your eyes from the far behind of the curtain backstage, his laugh lines reappear and the camera flashes increase in intensity, shutters rapidly opening and closing.

"Lights! Camera! Smile!" The stage director calls out.

But this time the smile is real!

ARA'S NOTES ﹕ omg trying a different piece to write is so hard ngl. inspired by lyrics from "i can do it with a broken heart" by taylor swift. happy second anniversary to @pirateeznet yayyyyy and tysm to @daemour for beta-ing.

NAVI ﹕ @pirateeznet postㅤ⋆ㅤlibrary ㅤ atz shelfㅤ navi

TAGLIST ﹕ @haneagerr @weird-bookworm @aaa-sia @yeosayang @gong-fourz ㅤ⏤ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[elamimax]

What is the Downfall of TGST? You included it in that eggfic meme, but I've searched Scribblehub and Bigcloset and found not a sign of it.

Okay SO

Chapter 1: The Rise of TGStoryTime

In 2011, a man going by the name of Joe Six-Pack launched the TGStorytime website or "archive," with the express idea of creating a repository for fiction focused on forced feminization and similar "TG" fetish content.

Though it took a bit to find its footing, it nonetheless became a place where all kinds of people could share their stories about men becoming women, usually against their will, after which naughty shenanigans would usually occur.

It also became a place where many trans women both read and later on wrote their first piece of trans fiction (yours truly included). Other trans authors that got their start here were QuietValerie, Purplecatgirl and Trismegistus Shandy, each of which would later (or at the same time) make their name on other fiction hosting platforms as well.

As an aside, an interesting feature of TGST is the fact that every single story needs to be vetted by "the moderation team," which has at times included One (1) member: Joe Six-Pack himself. I'm sure that won't be relevant later.

Everything was going reasonably well, until one fateful day.

Chapter 2: The Problem With Joe Six-Pack

In 2020, a new user joined the website. I have no intention of speculating towards intention, but the effect they had was immediate.

They wrote extremely short stories, often between 50 and 100 words, only a few paragraphs, of people who were forcibly turned into women. What made this so egregious was the denigrating way it referred to these "new women," sometimes using slurs and other speech that has been hurled at trans women to dehumanize or simply demean them.

There was an immediate backlash, the now-quite-substantial trans userbase of the website standing up for themselves and asking that Joe Six-Pack, the host and active owner, do something about this new user's low-effort but offensive stories. At the very least, that he please stop personally approving them.

He refused.

He refused on the basis that TGST was never a place for queer people to find each other, nor was it a place for trans stories. As he put it, TGstorytime was repository. It was an archive of TG - not Trans - stories, one that was his sacred duty to maintain. He was not a moderator, he was simply an archivist. He also asserted that transphobia was a somewhat normal response on the internet and that moderating it would lead to a witch-hunt that would see his website shut down eventually. He would not stop vetting - and personally approving - stories that were rife with transphobia.

Chapter 3: The Exodus

In the following months and years, a large part of the trans community moved away from TGST, spreading to the neighboring websites of RoyalRoad, BigCloset and Fictionmania. Some tried to make their own websites like Fluff4Me and Offprint Café.

But the biggest move was to Scribblehub, one of the few websites that not only allowed users to mark their stories with "Transgender" as a built-in tag, but also had moderators that listened to vulnerable minorities when they raised issues. As a result, many trans women moved over to the at-the-time primarily manga-and-light-novel brained site, causing a pretty significant upheaval and forcing the moderation team to make some changes to the way it weighted its "trending" tab, since it quickly became dominated by transfem fiction.

Despite these changes, Scribblehub remains the best place to find new, and importantly, free trans fiction online, written by both established as well as up-and-coming authors.

If you like this video please like and subscribe. If you want to support me and other creators you can use the code below to subscribe to Curiositystr

[deanswhiskey]

don’t let me go - sam winchester

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

summary; while researching alone, the nest of vampires you were hunting takes you

wc; 2,223

warnings; canon level violence, blood, pain relief pills, kissing, angst, kidnapping, vampires hurting reader

authors note; i never know how to end fics i’m sorry for the shitty ending 😭

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

vampire nests. sometimes they’re easy to kill, other times they’re not.

the bigger they are means more to kill. this nest was particularly large. not that you, sam, and dean weren’t equipped, it was just way larger than you’d expected.

it was only supposed to be a nest of 4 or 5 vamps. you guys had already taken out two.

but, during the time between the last vamp kill and now, you were taken. as leverage, of course.

there was still some research and investigation needed before storming the nest. you stuck behind do research more while sam and dean played fbi for a little while longer.

dean was loading the trunk while you fixed up sam’s tie for him. “be back quick, okay?” you said while pulling the tie up, securing it around his neck. you patted his chest, smoothing out the tuxedo.

sam grabbed your hands and rubbed the back of them with his thumbs. “of course. be safe.” giving a light kiss on your forehead. he headed out the door but not before he gave you one last smile. sam was always extra affectionate before going out for hunts or investigating. you never understood why. you liked the affection though.

you changed into something a bit more comfortable; jeans and a tight fighting top weren’t the best for constant sitting and research. one of sam’s t-shirts and sweatpants will do.

you grabbed one of the motels provided coffee cups and made yourself some coffee. you poured some cream and two sugars into the mug and made your way to the dining table.

your computer was open with about 8 different tabs, john’s notebook opened on a page about vampires, and your personal notebook open while you wrote down whatever thought came to mind while researching.

as you were writing something in your notebook, you heard a noise from across the room. if you were anybody else, you wouldn’t have reacted the same way you did. drawing the gun from the waist band of your pants, you carefully made your way across the room and into the adjoining room. dean made you guys get separated, but still adjacent, rooms when you and sam started dating.

upon further inspection, you made the assumption it was somebody next door. when you turned around there were two large guys standing right behind you. before you could act, they grabbed your arms and forced you back against the nearest wall.

they kept shouting “what do you know?” but you couldn’t hear much of it due to how hard they slammed your head against the wall. after they realized you weren't going to talk, they took out a blade and started cutting you to further force some answers. nothing deep, just shallow cuts; shallow enough to cause enough pain.

“i don’t know!” you repeatedly shouted as they kept making marks along your face, neck, and arms. tears started to run down your face at this point. the men put their blades down and smirked at one another. they could practically smell the winchesters in the adjoining room.

the man with the shaved head drew back his fist and knocked you out cold.

next thing you knew, your hands were tied to a chain from the ceiling. your head was pounding and you could feel your hands going numb. it was dark out from what you could see, so you only assumed it was after 9pm.

you prayed and prayed that sam and dean had found something that lead to wherever you were.

moments later, a group of people emerged from the shadows. they all had an open mouth smile bearing the pointy fangs coming from their mouths. the dots connected and you realized you were in the middle of the vamps nest; now on display as their next meal.

sam and dean returned to their hotel room and found you gone along with small droplets of blood on the carpet. anger and fear coursed through their veins. luckily, the vampire they encountered while investigating was the weakling of the nest, he gave up any and all information about the nest and places they might be in exchange for his life. of course, sam and dean didn’t listen and chopped his head right off.

they hauled ass back into the impala and went to the first of three locations they got. the burst into the abandoned factory and searched high and low and nothing. next was what was supposed to be another abandoned location but turned out to be a lively bar. they both hesitantly walked in, no one turned any heads. they talked to the bartender, nothing suspicious. they came to the conclusion no one in the bar was a vamp. the sighed and walked to the car. the hoped that this last location was it.

all while sam and dean were searching for you, you were fading in and out of consciousness as blood leaks from you all over. you were so tired.

these vamps were really adamant about whatever information they were trying to get out. you had no idea what they were talking about. you begged and pleaded saying you didn’t know what they were talking about. they’d simple say “shut up” and backhand you.

“please,” you all but whimpered out. your voice weakened after all the screaming you’ve done. “i don’t know anything.”

“well, that’s not what we heard, little girl.” the vamps fangs were protruding out of his mouth. and that stupid, stupid smirk just pissed you off enough more.

“well,” you breathed out. “whoever told you, is a stupid,” you spit out the blood that was in your mouth, “son of a bitch.”

that really pissed this guy off. he turned away angrily, but not before nodding to this one blonde girl. she had a hungry look in her eyes.

you shook your head repeatedly while muttering no over and over. “this ain’t gon’ hurt a bit, sweetheart.” her country twang would’ve been a bit comforting if she wasn’t about to bite into your neck.

her fangs were out and her hands force your head back so she could bite. your screams echoed in the empty house. your body filled with a hot sensation. it felt like no other. blood pooled out of your neck and further staining your clothes.

she pulled away with your blood all on her mouth. her eyes had this satisfied look as she backed away from you.

your body faltered, if it weren't for the cuffs, your body would've laid limp on the floor. your wrists on the cusp of dislocating from the way you were practically putting all your weight on them; your feet could barely hold you anymore

sam and dean pulled up to the house quietly with their headlights off. after turning off the engine they heard a loud scream, this had to be it. they immediately were on high alert. they forced open the door with their machetes and flashlights in hand.

they heard another scream rip from your throat and ran in that direction, careful not to make any sounds. there were two big buff vampires waiting right outside the door. sam and dean would've been a little intimidated if their wasn't adrenaline coursing through them. their blades swung through the air and eventually the two big bodyguards heads were on the floor, blood pooling at the winchesters feet.

seconds later, they burst through the door. they must've counted 7 or 8 more vampires inside. they noticed your bloody and bruised state hanging in the middle of the floor. they, somehow, become more angry when they notice bite marks on your neck.

you were on the verge of passing out until you noticed them. they fearlessly fought for you, slashing away at the vampires.

the blonde girl from earlier had an almost scared look in her eyes. she quickly unlocked your cuffs and dragged you out of the room. your vision was blurry, you could hardly make out anything.

she got outside of the house and leaned you up against a nearby tree, "you're all mine sweetheart. you're a tough one, delicious too." she all but licked her lips at the smell of your blood.

she opened her mouth, fangs jutted out, and was about to bite again when her head was sliced off, falling to the ground. her dead body going limp on the ground, which revealed your hero. sam winchester stood there with his bloody machete, breathing heavy after all that fighting.

"my hero," you weakly smiled.

"hey, don't talk right now, save your breath," he calmly whispered, kneeling down to pick you up.

"everything hurts," you groan.

"i know, i know," he carried you bridal style to the impala. "just try to save your breath."

"'m sorry sammy," you leaned against his chest.

"you have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart." he gives you a sad smile, setting you into the back seat.

"tell dean i'm sorry about the blood in baby."

"i'm sure he'll understand," he held onto your hand from the front seat as dean drove back to the motel.

“don’t let me go,” you whispered, feeling soothed by the circles sam was rubbing with the pad of his thumb against your hand.

you passed out moment later only to find yourself laying on sam's motel bed. you look down, no longer bloody but still in a lot of pain.

stumbling over to the bathroom mirror, you see stitches along your neck from where the vampire bit you. you were also in new clothes, no longer in bloody torn ones. another one of sam's shirts adorned your body along with a pair of his shorts.

sam walked in not long after with a pharmacy bag in his hand, he hadn't noticed you up and out of bed until you walked out of the bathroom. "oh my god, you're awake," sam dropped his bags and ran to you, attacking you in a hug. your groaned a little, hugging back, your body still hurt. "oh, i'm so sorry," sam goes to pull away but you pull him back in.

"no, sam, its okay, please just stay here," you whisper out, hugging him tighter.

sam pulled away and looked at you with worry in his eyes, “i’m so sorry, truly. i wished i never even left you. dean could’ve gone by himself. i should’ve stayed, i’m-,”

“sam,” you held his shoulders, steadying him. “it’s okay, i forgive you. it’s not even your fault.” he just smiled weakly in response.

sam went to pick up the bag he dropped,”i got you some pain relief.” holding a box of ibuprofen and rattling it.

“thank you, sammy,” sams cheeks flush at the nickname. only you were allowed to call him that.

you downed a few pills with some water and sat back down on the bed; sam following you.

“listen,” he starts. “when i walked in here and you weren’t here, i panicked. more than i ever have. losing you would mean losing the sun in my life. i don’t know what i’d do if i had lost you.” sam keeps fidgeting with his fingers; unsure of what do to. he doesn’t know if he could look you in the eyes without crying, blurting out his undying love for you, or both. “i just—”

he stops mid sentence when he feels your hand on his hot cheek, guiding him to look at you. you now sat criss cross on the bed fully facing him. “sam, it’s okay. i’m safe, i’m here now,”

he leans into your touch, “i know, i don’t want to lose you again.”

“i’m right here sam, i’m right here,” you said softly, rubbing his face with your thumb.

you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. your lips lingered as your face still right at his. your lips dangerously close to his.

with a quick breath of courage, sam gently placed his lips on yours; as if he was testing the waters. as soon as you leaned into the kiss, he kissed back with a little more force.

sam was pouring out his emotions and feelings into this kiss as his lips molded against yours perfectly and his nose smushed against your face.

your hand gently raked through your hair as you kissed sam. the feeling of sams hand on your waist felt like sparks against your skin.

sam was the first to pull away, “you have no idea how long i’ve waited to do that.” you just giggled in response. sams forehead rested against yours as his eyes screwed shut, “please don’t ever leave again.”

“i’ll try my hardest not to.”

“good, because i’d go crazy.”

“just shut up and kiss me again you fool,” you giggled.

sam smiled and attacked you in kisses. your contagious laughter made sam smile even harder.

sam and you spent the rest of the night laying in the comfort of each others arms. sam practically refused to let you go.

“i’ll never let you go again,” he jokingly said as his big arms wrapped around your waist.

“good, don’t let me go.” you smiled. “goodnight sammy,” you whispered up at him.

“goodnight love,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

sams arms squeezed you tighter in a gentle manner. he never wanted to let go.

⛥ ⛥ ⛥

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I'll crawl home to you

Next chapter

a/n okay this sat in my notes for so long. I wanted to delete first, then I thought hmm... let's indulge, right? Also, please be gentle, I've never written for Javi.

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warnings: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood, mentions of death...I think that's all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Is Carillo in?", both males lifted their heads from their never-ending piles of documents right as you approached. Each step was laced with nothing but confidence. Only fools would stand in your way. You were nothing like the women Javi was used to. He had never seen you striding across the office in a skirt or a skimpy shirt that most secretarial women preferred here. But then you weren't a secretory ether.

"Yeah, he should be", Steve said, beating Javi to an answer and eyeing the files in your hand. Neatly put as always, followed by the colorful tabs that no one else used, and even if Javi had made fun of them in the past, it was something that constantly reminded him of you. "What's that?", Steve tried to reach for the reports, but you only slapped his hand away playfully. As if he was nothing but a curious kid, shoving his nose into something that wasn't for him. "You'll see. Meeting in five, watch", you stated before walking through Carillo's door, closing it with daring eyes and a wink.

Carillo was the one to command emergency meetings, so you calling the shots looked nothing but childish to an unknowing ear, but then, not even two minutes later, Carillo emerged from the door, "Meeting in five", his voice boomed through the office, and with the corner of his eyes, Javi could see you leaning against the table smiling to yourself.

You fascinated him. There was no other way to go around it. Back when you just joined the team, Javi did doubt you. Toxic masculinity and all that shit got him humbled real quickly alongside all the other sorry fucks who didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. There were not many females among the leading troops, but you were unbeatable. Many men were pissed beyond any mark when Carillo made you his second in command. Even Javi was pissed. Because most of the fuckers here had been here for years, some ten and counting, and it took you less than two to climb almost to the top. But then, no one was better fitted for that role, and with time passing, one thing got even clearer. The thing that pissed Pena off the most was that your position got you and Carillo way too close for Javi's liking. Not that you were his. Not that there was an us.

But you were like an illness clinging to him. Javi couldn't think clearly. Most of his brain was occupied with you. He fucked so many whores when he felt his heart starting to want to lean just to you. He had fucked them all by that time, he was sure that he liked you, but that only made him feel worse. Common Bogota whore. That's what he was. Equally as much, he sold himself both for information and because he needed someone to cling to him, even if it was for the money.

"Why an orphanage?", Steve was leaning against the table, looking down at the papers you had forbidden him to touch five minutes ago. "Would you look there?", you sassed back, making Steve shrug his shoulders in agreement as he continued to flip through all the other documents. "We don't need a full-blown mission. It would just be a check. If we find something to hold onto, we'll send more men", you continued, glancing to Carillo, needing his nods as validation now that the room was dead silent.

"Pena", Carillo called out, getting the agent's eyes to shoot up at him, "You haven't said anything". And it was true he hadn't. One thing that Javi loved was disagreeing. You two were the best at that. But he was never this silent. Regardless of whether he liked the idea or not, he would still share his thoughts, but now you got absolutely nothing.

"Send an armed force; do the thing. I don't understand why we are even discussing this", Javi carelessly threw the case with documents onto the table before crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth thinned into a straight line. "No armed forces are walking into an orphanage. Those kids have enough trauma to last them a lifetime".

Javi scoffed, running his hand over his beard. "What do you suggest we roll up for a walk there with no guns, no nothing?", he said in an almost mocking manner as his lips curled upward. The room stayed silent. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly. Something in Javi's face twisted. "You can't be serious…", he trailed off. "I'll just go and look; we only need access to the basement parts; hygiene security paper will do the job", you said firmly. The plan seemed simple enough. "You're not going to a potential hideout without a gun", Javi leaned closer to you over the table, fists starting to clench as he glared at you.

"It'll look suspicious", Carillo added, seeming so unphased by all of this and all the things that could go wrong that Javi had to pull the last string of self-control to not pinch him in the face. "Suspicious, my ass, she can be walking into a trap", Javi raised his voice as he shot daggers at the head of the national police unit.

"Since when do you care?", those words took a moment to sink in. And when Javi turned back to you, there was no resemblance to the man you saw a couple of minutes ago. They were dead empty, and there was only anger there. "Good luck dying there since you seem so eager", Javi spat out, not turning away from you because he wanted to see the way your face fell.

"Javi…", Steve muttered. Out of everyone in the office, he was the only one who truly knew just how much you cared for one another. Your eyes started to sting, but you didn't drop the stabbing gaze that Javi was hurling your way, "Don't worry, agent, no one will send you an invite to the funeral". With those words, you turn away from him. Snatching the papers from the table as you turn towards Carillo as if Javi was no longer around.

Did Javi regret his words instantly? No, but he regretted them the moment he watched you unbutton the dress you were going to wear so none other than Carillo would strap communication devices onto your body. He hated that his hands were on your body. Fingers tracing the soft, warm skin. Does Carillo know that Javi's fingers were there too? Does he know that Javi would give up everything, even his career, for the chance to feel that soft skin again on his body every morning? With a frown on his face, Javi put his cigarette out before snatching his jacket off the chair and heading out.

This seemed silly, but you had never gone on a mission with Javi upset with you, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, you argued often. Agreeing on something with that man was a challenge, but you made it work most of the time. You would blow each other's brains out by shouting at the office, and then one would always join the other outside for a smoke or just a breath of fresh air.

You would bump Javi's shoulder, making the frown even worse, until your fingers would sneak to pull the cigarette away from his lips so you could take a drag yourself. You would rarely talk. Both stubborn and aware that it would most definitely lead to more fighting. So silence it was. You would lean on Javi's shoulder, and he would never miss an opportunity to bring you closer to him.

The embraces at times felt so intimate that fighting back tears was a challenge. But the smell of Javi's aftershave and the smoke lingering there brought you unimaginable levels of comfort. The same comfort that you felt laying in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It had only happened a couple of times, but those couple of times were enough to make you addicted. Because the Javi at the office was nothing like the Javi you got to see behind closed doors. And it wasn't because he fucked good. No, that anyone could tell. It was because his touch did linger, and behind the wall that he had built for protection was the man who was so capable of love - he had just forgotten it.

"How could I help you, ma'am?", a voice asked, bringing you out of the trance and causing you to flinch slightly. You needed to put your head in check. This. You couldn't allow yourself to think about this while doing your job. "Hygiene check", you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to the elderly lady. She looked you up and down. "Since when are they no longer sending creepy old men?", she asked you sarcastically, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Since I told them that it's inappropriate, especially around the kids". The woman nodded her head, dropping the paper on the front desk before reaching for the keys. "I'll walk you through the upper floors; the basement is easy to navigate on your own", she stated, moving to walk in front of you.

"Ask her about the size of the lower levels", Carillo's voice rang in your ear, and you flinched again. God, what was going on today? How can you forget that you had a communication set on, with microphones and all? They could hear your surroundings just as much. Focus, you told yourself once more. "A small basement for such a place—surely that's an issue?", you asked her, bringing the fake criteria papers to your chest and reaching for the pen so you could pretend to mark stuff.

"We don't need it. Things like fresh food and other products come in almost daily", she stated. "You have a company you work with?", you asked, looking at the pictures that covered all of the hallways. "Yes, I can give you the information, and the truck that delivered today's packages is still downstairs", she said, yet her voice slowly died down as your eyes fell on the kids playing in the colorfully painted rooms. The big windows allowed you to take a full look at them.

"Why is he alone?", the lady twisted to look back, stopping mid-sentence about the new vegetable stock, catching and following your gaze, now focused on the boy, seated in the furthest corner of the room. Knees up to his chest as he scarcely looked at the other kids. The lady sighed, "He got here not long ago. Hard to adapt. Both of his parents died, as did his sister. He's alone", bile rose in your throat as you swallowed thickly. Suddenly, you wish you had somewhere to lean on.

Javi's muscles tensed as those words rang through the car they all sat in. Carillo was about to speak into the headset, but Javi snatched it out of his hands. He doubted that Carillo knew. Maybe. He would like to believe that no one else did it besides him. That you had only trusted Javi with the story from your past that night. That you had cried because you hadn't told anyone else beforehand, and reliving it was too painful. Javi waited some more, pointing a warning finger at Carillo, who was cursing Javi in Spanish. Javi wanted to give you a moment to try and pull yourself out on your own. You were a big girl, and he knew that you could handle yourself. But everyone had their demons who possessed them at times; this just happened to be yours. Yet another reason why Javi didn't approve of this in the first place.

"You're in Bogota, not back in D.C., carino", Javi's voice filled your ears, and you had to blink a couple of times, feeling the shiver run down your back. Shiver that was followed by a wave of warmth, because if you could hear him, it meant that he came along after all. "Is he looked after?", the question seemed stupid, but you just had to know, even if it had nothing to do with why you were here, "All kids are looked after here, ma'am".

Javi cursed under his breath. You were slipping, and he could feel it. This was just too convenient. Too out of the blue. This had to be set up. To throw you off the hook so they could take you out. Javi could just feel it, and the worry only grew stronger. "Y/N, if you don't feel well, back down", Javi said again. His voice was firm. It was an order, and you knew that it was the correct one as well, but… "I'll look through the basement today", you said softly as you turned to the old lady. "Of course", she said with a nod, rushing to give you the keys.

"Y/n", Javi spoke again as a warning, but you didn't say anything. You closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself, right as the lady showed you to the back door. Javi moved to get up instead once the line fell silent, but Carillo stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, "You don't have the order to interfere". That made Javi's blood boil, "You, out of all people, should feel that she's not in the right mindset to be there", Carillo said nothing, only locking the car doors, his eyes now fully fixed on Javi.

The hour you spent inside there was a nightmare. You took a couple of pictures. Sneaked in some papers that seemed off. Now all you needed to do was walk out of the building, and then it would all be over. A breath that Javi didn't know he was holding slipped past his lips as he watched you walk out of the building, turning back to wave to the elderly lady before you moved closer to the street that separated you from the rest of the team. Even from back there, Javi could tell that your eyes looked hazy. A new worry sparked. What if you misread the speed of the car? What if you get hit? Javi reached for the door handle, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

You looked around a couple more times before stepping forward; your eyes met Javi's desperate ones. And even if he knew that you were beyond pissed at him, you still shot him a slight smile. A little something that would keep his nerves at bay for now. Until you crossed the street and Javi could once again sense your perfume lingering in the car.

And then a blink of an eye changes everything. A bullet suddenly pierces your shoulder, sending you staggering back onto the street. It feels like the world had stopped as Javi watched the red stain get bigger and bigger. "Get down", Carillo shouted at the top of his lungs, making a handful of men drop to their knees, but Javi didn't move. He pushed off the car and rushed forward, "Pena, that's an order", but he was done with following orders for today. Another shot rang out. This time it sounded a lot stronger, and you suddenly gripped your lower stomach. That made Javi lose all sense; he took off running, and suddenly the distance seemed way too long. Pushing panicked people to the side as he scratches his way to you.

You didn't register the first bullet; it was like your mind blanked, and only the feeling of something wet dripping down your shoulder made you frown at the situation. It's the second bullet that pierced your left side that made you let out a scream. One that kept ringing in your ears. You could see people moving, but no one was stopping to look at you. Your mind was running so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Blinking started to get harder, your breaths were painful and shallow now.

"Carino", you heard before you could even see the face, and for a second, it felt like you were imagining it all. "Keep your eyes open", said Javi, who was now leaning over you, palm cradling your cheek as he pats it a couple of times to keep you conscious for as long as possible. Another shot rang out, and Javi turned around to fire his gun before his attention was back on you. "Not safe", you mutter, your weak fingers now wrapped around Javi's wrist. "I'll be fine", he stated blankly, drawing his gaze up for just one moment, catching a glimpse of Steve tackling a male to the ground before he's looking down at your paling face, "Can you press your palms to your shoulder, baby?"

When you don't move, Javi is the one moving his palm over the second wound, pressing as hard as he possibly can. "Let me", you mutter, and God or whatever that people believe in knows Javi was glad you don't finish that sentence because he can't and won't think of that outcome. "Don't you dare? You're walking out of here, you hear me?", Javi said letting go of your shoulder. He patted your cheek again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment. Anger only rushed faster as Javi shouted once again for an ambulance or a medic.

"He had Michael's eyes", you muttered, breathing now even, though Javi knew what that meant - your body was crashing. "Did he, carino?", he knows this is not a conversation he should be having with you, but he's desperate to keep you awake for as long as possible. Javi's hands were soaked with your blood by now, and so was your flowery dress. You nodded your head weakly and said, "I saw Mikey". Javi clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "I hope you said hi from me as well", but your head lulled to the side. Javi's blood went ice cold because, for a split second, he thought that was it—you were dead. You bled out in his arms. Letting go of your wounds, Javi pulled you closer to his chest, your limp body looking nothing like a rag doll in his arms. The sirens rang somewhere in the air, but now all Javi could think of was how he would never be the same if you never opened your eyes again.

[talesofesther]

scorch marks | ch 3

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: Wednesday has been careful to keep what you two have behind closed doors and far away from labels; but when someone starts to take it — take you — away from her, she realizes how much she cares.

A/N: I'm not sure if I'm completely happy with how this turned out, but that's my life nowadays. And I wanted to post this for you guys before I leave for my little trip for new years, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I think I ended up writing this one exclusively from Wednesday's pov lol. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

Human emotions were a strange, bothersome thing. Love could make you kill just as much as anger; ambition could make you get down on one knee to pledge your devotion to someone just as much as love.

They can get in the way of a clear mind, making you say or do something that would come back to torture you later.

That was probably their most devious power. And they lead to feelings; that are messy and unstable.

Wednesday prided herself on having control over them, not the other way around. Or at least she did. Because recently she has been victim to so many, that she didn't have the stomach to keep count.

She remembers the coldness of the rain against her skin as she walked away from Weathervane — away from you — it was pleasant and comforting; a safe blanket as the droplets trickled down her forehead all the way to her chin and hid the few stray tears that escaped her.

Her steps had been fast in desperation to get away. Her throat closed so tightly that she thought having someone choking her would be more bearable. Her heart beating so painfully, that maybe a bullet would've been more merciful.

She walked, and walked, and walked; her feet carrying her to school without realizing it. She was soaked when she stepped into her dorm, making puddles of water with each step she took. She remembers Enid talking, but the words were blurred.

Wednesday had made a beeline to the shower, turning it on with a temperature colder than the rain she had just escaped from.

Some say the second time around is more bearable. This certainly wasn't the case for her.

It was the day Wednesday put an end to whatever was happening between you and her. The day where she hated the most that she was forced to feel her own emotions.

The week that followed wasn't an improvement either.

Your words kept replaying in Wednesday's mind like a broken record; this is not a date, and please can we talk?

What would you have said, had she cared to listen?

Wednesday sat in front of her typewriter every day, staring at the blank paper and being unable to fill it. She'd hit a stump, because maybe she'd never know what you would have said.

You passed by each other in Nevermore's hallways as if you were just two strangers in the street, never to cross paths again. When you stood on one side of the bee keeper's shed, Wednesday stayed in the far opposite one, and if she so much as tried coming closer, you'd drop whatever it was you were doing and walk away. Even if Enid asked, you didn't come to her dorm anymore, prompting the werewolf to ask questions even though she could guess the answer.

Wednesday didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much. She caught herself tracing the lines of her own palm in a motion that was yours to make, brushing the corner of her lips in the place that was yours to kiss. And as much as she hated this feeling with all her might, hated you for forcing it into her, she couldn't chase it away.

It was so sadistically ironic that Wednesday kept you at arm's length in order to avoid attachment and loss, and that's exactly what she got. Maybe this is what Goody was trying to warn her about, that no matter the road she takes, the end will always be the same.

—

Today was a friday, ten days and four hours since the last time Wednesday spoke with you, since she replicated a damn drama cliche with her pitiful walk in the rain. Not that she was keeping count.

She sat at one of the tables on the quad, Enid at her side talking about something she wasn't listening to. The day was gray, morbidly so as the clouds loomed above, dark and cold in a way that Wednesday would've loved if it wasn't for you.

You who sat at the other end of the quad, putting as many tables and obnoxiously loud students between you and Wednesday as you could. You who looked so undeniably beautiful under the shadows. You who was smiling, happy as you laughed with your friends and spared no glances into the crowd to look for anyone.

Were you happier without her?

Wednesday sucked in a sharp breath at the mere thought of it, her lower lip quivering slightly as she exhaled, before she averted her eyes from you with a blink.

She turned to Enid only to find the girl's bright eyes already on her, a knowing smirk on her pink lips; "I won't even ask if you were listening."

"I got bored after the word shopping," Wednesday stated, raising an eyebrow that got Enid rolling her eyes.

"And because you were stalking our resident pretty girl," Enid teased, bumping Wednesday's shoulder with hers.

It was a truth that Wednesday countered with a lie; "I only stalk people who are hiding something or who have something I want, she doesn't fit on any of those."

Enid slumped on her seat, resting her head on her hands as she looked at Wednesday, "you can't keep doing this, Wednesday."

"Doing what?"

"Pretending like you don't care," Enid says then, with the frustration of someone who's just seen their favorite couple from a tv show hit another almost.

"Why would you assume the opposite?" Wednesday asks irritatedly.

Enid gives her best friend a look that could only be read as seriously? before she sits up straighter; "you two went from hanging out in the dorm for hours and sneaking out when you think no one's watching, to staying on different sides of the school and avoiding each other like the plague. Even you have to feel that change."

But I don't want to; Wednesday thinks to herself. Her only response is to look away.

With a sigh, Enid softens; "why won't you just tell her the truth?" She asks gently. The werewolf doesn't know the full story, and when her roommate ignores her questions and neither you nor Yoko will talk, gossip can only do so much; but even a blind person can see that whatever happened, hurt both of you.

Wednesday frowns; "what truth?"

"That you have feelings for her, silly. Like, genuinely more than friends feelings." There's an excited smile on Enid's lips as she says it, eyes glinting with the prospect of a love story.

"That's a horrible idea," Wednesday's face does something complicated, as if she's sorting on how to feel about this — or tasted something sour. "Besides, you know what happened the last time I did something remotely close to that."

And just like that, the muddy waters start to clear, the fog starts to dissipate and Enid understands what is happening — if just a little better.

The blonde reaches out a hand to Wednesday's forearm, squeezing softly; "Wednesday, this is Y/N we're talking about, she's not gonna turn into a murderous monster and break your heart."

Wednesday visibly gulps, her jaw painfully clenched as she felt uncharacteristically small under Enid's gaze.

"Plus I thought you'd be into the whole potential heartbreak thing." Enid teases, fighting back a grin, to which Wednesday can only mumble back;

"Not nearly as fun as I thought it'd be."

Switching her gaze between you and the raven-haired girl by her side, Enid hums; "want my advice?"

"No."

"I'd take my chances if I were you, because I know she genuinely cares about you. A lot."

There was something about the way Wednesday dropped her shoulders slightly, about the way she stole another glance at you as if you had just bought a one-way ticket to another country. It was that bittersweet feeling of a good thing that came to its end way too early.

Enid felt like crying.

"I'm afraid I'm too late, Enid."

—

It wasn't until dinner time — and after much, much insistence from Enid — that Wednesday decided to try and mend her mistake.

The cafeteria was already filled with students when she arrived, in true Nevermore fashion, the place was big and ancient; a meticulously decorated stone-walled room with tables and a kitchen area. Werewolves, Enid's brothers probably, were making a scene near the kitchen; there were gorgons and sirens playing a card game on one of the tables; and you sat with the vampires, with Yoko by your side no less.

Wednesday felt curious eyes on her, undoubtedly her peers wondering why she'd been staring unmoving for so long. A deep breath passed through her lips as she begrudgingly swallowed her pride and took the first step, her boots thudding against the stone floor.

With each of her steps, she repeated the words in her head; can we talk? Do you still wish to talk? Or would it be better, I need to talk with you?

Wednesday decides that fighting a murderous monster would be infinitely easier.

Your eyes locked in on her figure before she even reached you, and Wednesday smiled, a tiny tilt of lips that only you would notice; but you looked away from her before it happened.

Did people care about each other only because they enjoyed the pain that comes with it?

Something akin to panic fluttered inside Wednesday's stomach when you got up from your seat, reaching for your backpack and muttering a few goodbyes to your friends as you walked between the tables. The Addams girl quickened her steps, almost bumping into Bianca and not bothering to turn around when the siren called her out on it.

Wednesday just about managed to stop in front of you before you left for the doors.

Is this what you felt on that day?

Your eyes closed with a sigh, your hands were buried deep in your pockets and there was a rigidness to your shoulders. You were nervous, and even if it wasn't the right time, Wednesday was proud of herself for knowing it.

But having you this close again after so long — not really, ten days aren't that long, yet Wednesday hates that it felt like ages — has its downsides.

Wednesday couldn't speak. The only thing she needed to do, and her words are stuck. Feelings are a pain in the ass to deal with.

Yoko stood by your side, arms crossed over her chest; "do you have anything to say or what?"

She's protective, Wednesday doesn't blame her for it anymore.

Yes, she should say. There's a glint of hope in your eyes when you look at her; Wednesday finds herself wanting to reach out, but she's not sure she's allowed to anymore. She wonders if you missed her as much as she misses you.

"No," is what she says, and it's quite painful.

—

It's well into the night when Wednesday makes her way back to her dorm, the stairs creaking under her boots, a half-moon shining high on the sky being the only source of light.

her insides are twisting with a mix of rage, frustration, self-pity, and something else that's just heavy.

She pushed open the door to her dorm only to find it empty. Enid's bed is unmade and Wednesday's typewriter still has a blank page on it.

Enid had texted Wednesday earlier, something about going out with Ajax and not coming back too soon. The solitude was well appreciated, it gave the Addams girl some much-needed peace to work on her novel. The only problem is that her mind was nowhere near peaceful.

The first thing that caught Wednesday's attention after she walked in was the potted cactus by her window, it looked a little sad, its soil all dry and the color not as green as it should be. Wednesday didn't think twice as she walked to her bathroom, filling a cup with water and gently emptying it into the plant's pot. At least of that part of you, she'd take good care of.

She took off her hoodie next, throwing it on top of her bed. It was pathetic that the simple action got her thinking of you too, of when you'd lounge on there talking nonsense with Thing while she wrote.

How could one person hold so much power over another was beyond Wednesday, especially because she didn't allow it; it just happened. It happened that she kissed you out of impulse, just because she couldn't die without knowing what your lips felt like; or that she kept calling on you more and more after that, feeling a hole in her chest whenever you were away for too long.

It just happened that she fell for you, and maybe it was inevitable, maybe you'd be her doom. But it was her choice to push you away, and she'd be lying if she said it wasn't the one thing she regretted the most.

There was a knock on Wednesday's door that snapped her mind back to reality. She turned around, frowning as she stared at the dark wooden thing, wondering who would seek her out this late in the night.

Honestly? Wednesday should've seen it coming as soon as Enid suggested she should talk with you. She should've known.

She swung open the door only to reveal you on the other side, in plaid pajama pants and a white shirt, hugging yourself because of the coldness of the empty hallways.

Your posture went rigid as soon as your eyes found Wednesday's, it got her wondering if you forgot this was her dorm, if you knocked on the wrong door by accident.

"Hello," Wednesday said as she looked at you, features impassive, her hand tightening around the door handle until her knuckles turned white.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before you spoke; "Enid texted me, said you needed help with something. That it was an emergency," you gulped, diving into over-explanation, "and that she wasn't here, so she asked if I could…" You trailed off, your fingers nervously tapping your arm.

Oh. Maybe her roommate wasn't too far off when she said you cared. It was rare the times where anyone would be able to easily read Wednesday's emotions. This was one of them and it wasn't a surprise that you were the cause.

There was a glint to Wednesday's eyes that belonged to you, her features softened in a blink — no more creases to her eyebrows and lips parting in vain when her words got tangled on her tongue — it was the calmness after a raging storm.

Wednesday used to mock the people who spoke about soulmates, about the invisible red string that few ones were lucky enough to find the other end of. But could there ever be any other explanation for the way you set her at ease?

She nodded once, stepping aside so you could walk in.

You were hesitant in the way you did so, as if you didn't belong, and Wednesday hated it — because you did belong, right here by her side. You stood in the middle of her dorm, right between the division of colors to blankness on the round window.

The air felt electric around you. Wednesday chanced a step closer, her gaze casting over every twitch of your expressions; "I do," she started, and a beat passed as she refused to take the last chance to back down and let you go, "I do have something to say."

You scoffed, "that doesn't sound like an emergency," but there was no bite to your tone, almost as if you wanted her to object.

"It is," Wednesday told you, allowing the affection she held for you to drip from every syllable. One more chance, that's all she needed, and maybe she’d tell you just what it is that you do to her.

"Okay."

You had a kindness to you that she was underserving of, Wednesday thought. But maybe she could work her way to it. She raised her chin, striving to keep her heartbeat in check; "I wasn't completely fair last time we spoke, I'll measure my words better if you're willing to talk to me again."

Wednesday said the words as if they were the particularities of a contract, and not an apology to someone who held her cold heart in their hands. She realized it was the wrong thing to say as soon as your features fell.

You took on the glow of the moon effortlessly as it came through the window, it framed the lines of your jaw and cheekbone, all delicate and pretty. You ducked your head, allowing your hair to partially cover your eyes as you nodded a few times. "Great," you mumbled, before taking a few quick steps with intent to go around Wednesday and back to the lonely hallways.

She didn't let you, her cold hand closed around your own as you made to walk past her, keeping you in place in a gesture that surprised both of you.

Having your skin against hers again made Wednesday feel like coming home after a long journey. It's strange that that's what you became to her.

The hold she had on you wasn't strong, you could easily pull your hand away and leave. But you didn't.

"It was unfair of me," Wednesday started, each word tighter than the next as she forced them out. More than anything, Wednesday despised talking about her feelings, but words are all she has now, "the mistake was mine and I will accept the consequences for it. But you should have all cards on the table when making your judgment."

If there was a heaven, you already had your place on it — you turned back around to face Wednesday properly, and without letting go of her hand, you adjusted your hold so that your fingers could intertwine; your thumb tracing random patterns on her skin in a motion that you knew calmed her down. Because you knew how hard this was for her — Wednesday was sure you were an angel in your past life.

The dorm room had never felt this detached from the outside world, as it does now, holding this one moment for you and Wednesday alone.

For a split second, where she allowed herself the luxury of only existing in your presence, Wednesday wondered if this is what real love felt like. She took in a deep breath, feeling your perfume as she did so before focusing her gaze on your joined hands; they fit well together.

"I used to ask myself why I was the one who kissed you first that day." Wednesday hesitated, nagging on the inside of her cheek with her teeth, "and I realized that it's because you make me feel something I never- hardly ever feel when around other people."

Her eyes glanced up at you in a lazy motion, only to find that your eyes never left her once. There was a soft smile on your lips, overflowing adoration. Wednesday was sometimes envious of the way you wore your heart on your sleeve so effortlessly.

"It's an annoying feeling really," the raven-haired girl admitted, raising an eyebrow at you, "I wanted to rip it away from me the first time it happened." Her lips hovered open as she heard her own heartbeat, thunderous as ever, "but the one that came in your absence was much worse."

The passage of time felt equally too slow and too fast. You weren't doing anything. Did she do something wrong?

Wednesday tensed when, carefully, you raised a hand to her face. You were tender in the way that you pushed the black strands of hair behind Wednesday's ear, your fingertips lingering and tracing her cheek before you dropped your hand. As if you'd missed touching her too.

And oh you did, if Wednesday knew just how much, she'd probably be all over you already. "I feel it too," you whispered, a secret confession only for her to hear.

"I know we never talked about what we were, and I'm not asking you to," you spoke calmly, "but you really hurt me, Wednesday, at the very least I thought we were friends."

What if I'd like us to be more? What would you say, is that something you'd ever want too?

Before Wednesday could ask any of the questions she was dying to know the answer to, you asked yours first;

"Did you mean that? What you said?"

And the Addams girl figured that this was a more pressing matter anyway.

Wednesday shook her head with urgency, her hand squeezing yours to keep you in place, "it could never be true." She took a step closer, her boots bumping your sneakers, "hurting you, it's the last thing I'd ever want to do, and I apologize that it happened."

The raw honesty of Wednesday's tone was all you needed to hear to let go of her hand in order to cup her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss that spoke more than any of you ever could.

Wednesday grasped onto your waist almost desperately, her hands bunching up your shirt as she glued your body to hers in a nearly bruising grip, dying to feel the most of you that she could manage. She pressed herself into you, her nose brushing your cheek as her soft lips molded with yours; telling you she'd never miss anyone as much as she misses you, that she'd never feel so strongly for someone as she does for you; that she'd have you until death's cold embrace took her.

Your hands traveled from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers mingling with the wisps of hair there. You pressed your lips to each corner of her mouth, bumping your noses as you did so, leaving testimonies of your affection each time your upper lip grazed hers; letting her know that she'd ruined anyone else to you, that you'd never feel for someone else, what you feel for her.

Wednesday pulled back just enough to be able to breathe, her forehead brushing yours as you felt more than heard the shape of her words; "let me make it up to you… Please."

You chuckled, tracing the outline of her lower lip with your thumb. It was reddish and just a little swollen, warm to the touch and it was your fault.

It got you smiling, because you could also feel her own smile under your digit; "gladly."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova

@justyourwritter69 @natashaxwife @fieldofsecretss @faunusrubyrose @darkblueeyedperson @jujuu23 @part-timetraveller @athenablack1959 @loki-is-loved @daddy-jareau @lordsisi08 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @simonsbluee @lovemesomemaura @whatawonderfulunsername @r4td0lll @red-havana @rob1nbuckl3ys @incrediblygay37 @panicattheeverywherekid @sometandomstuff333 @panicattheeverywherekid @sometandomstuff333 @wayvjinsol @saintnookling @awolfcsworld @georgi-salva @unforgettwble-sumii @youralphawolf72 @machinesanaloginterface @raiden88 @tani725

[aurianavaloria]

The final result of the genealogy project I mentioned previously.

*faints*

For personal research purposes, I've compiled the immediate relations of the royal family of the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem at about the year 1181AD. I'm posting it here in case anyone else finds it useful for their own research.

Do take note of a few things, however:

I wasn't able to put absolutely everyone on it - the tree is difficult enough to read as it is, so I only included those I considered relevant to the local politics; for example, the vast majority of the Komnenos Dynasty is left out, but those listed are all related in some form or fashion.

Likewise, most relations extending to Western Europe are also excluded (IE: Aimery and Guy's other siblings).

I've provided a key to help read it as well as color-coded annotations where appropriate regarding state relations/major houses. Do note that the persons labeled as "deceased" are deceased by 1181. Several dates are unknown, however - no death date was provided for Countess Beatrice de Saone, so I didn't mark her as deceased, even though it is probable that she is by that date.

Be sure to follow the marriage lines closely. There are several cases of second and even third marriages. The marriage ties are especially intriguing in regards to the controversial Ibelins...

Andronikos I is highlighted differently because... he's Andronikos. Seriously, read up on him sometime if you haven't yet. He's... something.

Finally, I've also included the dynastic coats of arms when available (mostly from wikipedia). Some of these arms are different between the European and Levantine family branches, as well as different from attributed arms given in later centuries. An example of this is the arms of de Lusignan, which appeared as shown on the chart until Richard the Lionheart granted a red rampant lion charge on top of it later on. The arms of the Jerusalem cadet branch of the House of Anjou (d'Anjou-Jerusalem) are debated at this point, so I've just given the ruling family the later-known arms of the kingdom. Makes it easier to follow the path of the crown.

Obviously, you'll need to view it in a new tab/window to get all the details. Some of the words/names also bleed over into other lines here and there, but that's just the way the tree generator smashed them together.