#i did ballet for like seven years

[savetheghost]

[perlelune]

Dollhouse | Rafe Cameron | i.

The moment your mother marries Ward Cameron should have been the moment your life changes for the better. A fresh start out of the Cut for the both of you. And for the first seven years of living with the Camerons, everything truly is perfect.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Pogue!Reader, Stepcest, Secret Relationship, Manipulation, Jealousy, Drugs, Drinking

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

You peek from your hiding spot, beneath the lavishly decorated long table. Mom looks pretty. She’s wearing a fancy white dress that likely costs ten times the rent you used to pay. Perhaps more. The diamond earrings she dons, a wedding gift from your new dad, (Your new dad, your mind still cannot grapple with that reality-altering piece of information. You have a dad now, a stepfather), glimmer as they catch the glow of the fairy lights overhead. 

She’s laughing. So loudly you can see all her teeth and her eyes are crinkly. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Mom laugh like that. No. You have never seen Mom laugh like that. Not ever. In the eleven years she’s raised you on her own. There have been sad times. Very sad times. Happy times too. 

Still, she’s never looked as happy as she does today. 

Like she’s on Cloud Ten. Not on Cloud Nine. Cloud Ten. Because there has to be a level above that fully captures how overjoyed Mom looks right now.

All because of this man. Your gaze swings to him. He’s wearing a suit, a white wedding suit, because Mom insisted they match and she always despised - despised not hated - bland wedding tuxedos. Bland anything really. So she picked his suit herself. Just like she did everything for the wedding. Her dream wedding. Something she’s constantly reminded you for the past month. 

That this is her moment. Her big moment. One you shouldn’t ruin. 

Which is why you’re hiding here. You can’t ruin anything from underneath a table. A silent observer. Quiet as a mouse. 

That way Mom can have her moment while you bask in the shock that she’s a Cameron now. And so are you. 

“Hey. Why are you hiding at your own mom’s wedding?”

You gasp, startled by the voice beside you. Your head turns. A blond-haired boy is crouched next to you, his neck crooked from having to fit his tall frame in the small space. His blue eyes are wide and curious as they rest on you.

“I-I’m not hiding,” you stammer, shocked that someone found your secret spot. Everyone’s focus is glued to the new Mr. And Mrs. Cameron. Even your new stepsisters are cheering from the circle around them. Sarah’s the loudest. Her thunderous clap and megawatt smile is a cheering squad all on its own. 

This is their day.

So you figured your existence must have been forgotten by now. You tossed flower petals across the aisle, just like Mom asked. You smiled for the family pictures. You hugged him, that man, your new dad.

You awkwardly greeted your new siblings. Well, mostly waved from a safe distance.

You assumed your disappearance would go unnoticed amidst the bubble of joy keeping everyone trapped in its spell. But someone slipped away from it for a little while, it seems, broke the spell. Long enough to notice your absence. 

He nods and says, “Really? Come out then, since you’re not hiding.” When you dig your pink ballet flats into the grassy dirt, refusing to move, the teenager chuckles.

He plops onto the floor. 

“Or we can stay here.”

Your brows knit. We. It sounds strange. Alien to your ears. It’s always been you and Mom. The two of you against the world, jumping over every hurdle life stuck in your path together. There’s just so many kids now. And based on Mom’s recent announcement…there’ll be another one soon. The final knot binding your two families.

Thinking about it makes your mind spin. Overnight you went from being an only child to having three siblings. Well, four in some months. 

Saying your world has been turned upside down is an understatement. Everything that used to be up is now down. And the house! Tannyhill is nothing like the tiny apartment you and Mom used to share. The one where the lights used to go out sometimes. It has all these big rooms. A gigantic yard. A pool. 

JJ even made fun of you at school because he said you’re a Kook now. 

A Kook. You wanted to punch him…and you did.

You will never be a Kook. It doesn’t matter if Mom makes you change schools, forcing you to attend the one on Figure 8, if she buys you new clothes, moves you to a new house.

You’ll always be a Pogue. A fact the kids at your new school make sure you never forget. 

You tuck your knees against your chest.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do what I want,” he replies with a shrug.

He brings out a piece of cake from behind him. 

“Do you want some?”

You make a face. 

“Not hungry.”

He laughs and takes a spoonful of the three layered chocolate cake himself. 

“What kind of kid refuses cake?” 

“Why are you here?” you retaliate, growing more annoyed. 

“Because you’re my new sister,” he states with a shrug. Your eyes round. “That’s what my dad says anyways.” He sighs. “Gotta look out for you and all that.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Well, little sisters are a pain in the ass. Didn’t ask for another one.” His brows furrow. “Didn’t ask for a new stepmom either but…here we are, princess.”

“Princess?”

“It’s what you look like, with your pink ribbons and all the bows,” he says, waving his hand in front of you. 

You open your mouth then close it. Mom did go overboard with the pink and the bows. But she wanted you to look cute in the photos. She wanted all the girls to look cute. Adorable, as she said. So you and your stepsisters ended up with those big, embarrassing, fluffy pink dresses. 

“Anyways. I’m your brother now. Deal with it, okay?” He scratches the back of his neck, placing the cake on the ground. “Pretty sure if I let anything bad happen to you my dad will kill me.”

You look ahead. Mom’s dancing with the girls now. She pauses momentarily, glancing around, but quickly returns to the dance. She, Wheezie and Sarah bounce in a circle, giggling as they tap their feet to the music. 

Your eyes swell with tears. 

This is how long it took Mom to replace you. A few seconds.

Rafe’s voice laces with irritation. 

“Are you crying?” His harsh tone only drags more sobs out of you. You grip the hem of your fluffy dress to wipe the snot pouring from your nose. 

The boy rolls his eyes. 

“Girls are so annoying, always crying for no reason.” He plucks a tissue from the back pocket of his dress pants and dabs it against your eyes. He does it rather aggressively which startles you out of your meltdown. “Here, stop.” You blink at him. “I’m sorry, okay?” His blue eyes soften. “I promise, we’re not so bad.” He scrunches his nose. “Well, except for Sarah who’s a spoiled brat…but you get used to it too.”

You sniffle and duck your head. Almost as if reading your mind, he assures softly, “Your mom will always be your mom, so stop crying, okay?”

You raise your head, gaping at him. 

“T-Thank you, Rafe,” you mumble between your abating sobs.

He shrugs. “Whatever.”

As he continues wiping your face, your tears slowly drying, you start pondering. Perhaps having a big brother won’t be so bad.

Cheers and applause explode around you as you blow the last of the sparkler candles. It took several tries before all the flames flickered out, plunging the room in total blackness. Your sisters giggle beside you and a contagious smile creeps onto your lips.

“Make a wish, make a wish!” your family chants around you.

You shush everyone which draws more laughs, especially from Mom and Dad. “Guys, quiet. I need to focus.”

You suck in a deep breath. 

You close your eyes and make a silent wish. Your smile broadens. It’s easy. You wish for everyday moving forward to be as perfect as this one, as wonderful. A happiness untouched and crystallized like a butterfly in amber. Its paper-thin, delicate wings never shriveling. Its vibrant colors never dimming. Its beauty never waning, never yielding to the fickle whims of time. Every year onwards, you wish to be surrounded by the same love and support you’ve gotten to experience for the last eighteen years. 

You wish to always be with family. 

When your eyes open, you beam brightly. The fact that familiar faces stare back at you fills you with warmth and comfort. Sarah, your sister, offered to throw the flashiest, biggest party of the year for your birthday. She even made a vision board for it. It was quite impressive actually. She planned on making sure her little sister celebrated eighteen years on this earth with a bang. But you staunchly refused. Not only did you hope to avoid more organizing drama between Sarah and Kie, you wanted something discreet and casual this year. You had no desire to be surrounded by vague acquaintances from the Island Club or the snobbish classmates who only stopped calling you names once they realized Mom was more than Dad’s mid-life crisis. 

Despite the twenty-year age gap between them, you’ve never witnessed two people more in sync than your mom and dad. You know every woman on that side of the island has wished for their marriage to fail. You wouldn’t flinch if you learnt there was a voodoo doll of your mom in one of those women’s closets. People figured they wouldn’t last. After all, they are so different. Mom used to be a cocktail waitress at the country club Dad is still a faithful member of to this day. His wife Rose had recently died and they bonded over fishing and sports. In many Kooks’ eyes, Mom will always be beneath them. You can see it in their eyes. Their pinched smiles. Their forced pleasantries. A veil of unbelonging will always cling to you and your mother. Deep down, despite living in this big beautiful house for seven years, you’ll always be Pogues. Not that you’ll ever tell Mom. She lives in a pink-colored bubble of her own making. One you wouldn’t dare pop lest she land in a cold puddle of harsh reality.

Still, you’re happy for your parents. 

Even after all these years, they love each other deeply. They still find ways to surprise each other, to make the other feel special.

Alice and Ward Cameron are what true love looks like in your eyes. What it should look like. Unless you have what your parents have one day, you don’t see yourself tying the knot with anyone. Your dad set that standard by being the best man you’ve ever met. 

Willa bounces in front of you, displaying her gummy grin. She recently turned seven and her front teeth have yet to come out. It never stops her from smiling all day however. 

“What did you wish for?” 

You don a cryptic expression.

“It’s a secret.”

Willa pouts, folding her arms dejectedly. Dad chuckles and picks her up. He rubs her back to comfort her, explaining, “She can’t tell you her wish, sweetheart. Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Your little sister gives a reluctant nod. Willa abhors the word ‘no’. Setting limits for her is a problem as she’s so accustomed to Dad surrendering to her every whim. Ward Cameron is what some would call a ‘girl dad’ through and through. It never takes much effort from you and your sisters to convince him and whoever would dare hurt any of you should probably count their days…as your dad would likely have already picked a date and funeral plot for them.

The time for the gifts comes. You sit in a chair at the head of the dinner table as everyone gathers around you to give you their gift. 

Sarah got you a coupon for a tattoo. While Dad is livid, she winks at you. The two of you mentioned getting matching tattoos before you leave for college. You’re glad to learn that she hasn’t forgotten.

Wheezie hands you a Sephora gift card. She’s very solemn, adjusting her glasses while giving it to you, which tears a chuckle from you.

“You just always say you don’t want anything, then everyone gets you a super cool gift,” she laments. Mom squeezes her shoulder. 

“It’s an amazing gift. I love it, Wheezie.”

Her face lights up at your response.

Willa’s gift draws the biggest smile from you. It’s a handcrafted wooden box covered in seashells, glitter and sand. It has a silver lock with a little key. It’s just so cute and you already picture yourself placing it above your bed or somewhere on your desk in your college dorm. It’ll be a much-welcome reminder of home. 

Mom and Dad’s combined gift sits in a square velvet jewelry box. The breath hovers in your lungs, your fingers shaking with anticipation as you open the box.

Your jaw drops.

A gold necklace with a single diamond charm shaped like a teardrop lies on beige satin. 

Your hand flies to your mouth. This must have cost a pretty penny.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whisper.

“Do you like it, sweetheart?” Dad asks.

“I love it.”

A bright grin unfurls on his face at your swift response. He moves forward, collecting the necklace from the box. 

“Can I…”

“Of course,” you reply, shoving your hair aside so he can place the necklace on you. 

When he’s done, he takes a moment to look at you, his hands clasping your shoulders. “It suits you. Your mom and I picked it out…” His voice falters, unspilled tears filling his blue eyes. 

You wrap your arms around him. He hugs you tightly. 

“Dad, it’s okay,” you say.

He unleashes a watery laugh. “It’s just…you girls are growing up so fast.” He steps back and hastily wipes the tears in his eyes. Dad loathes crying in front of you. Well, showing any sort of emotion really. You don’t remember seeing him shed a tear since the day you called him ‘dad’. It just slipped out of your mouth one time. It just felt natural after a while. 

Ward is the only father you’ve ever known, your mother having divorced your biological father when you were just a few months old. You’ve never met this man, though you’ve heard he has another family on the mainland. You can’t deny you’ve been curious about him at times. But your mother’s lips are sealed when it comes to that man. She rarely talks about that time but you always gathered that his absence in your lives is somewhat of a blessing.

You hug Dad again.

“It’s okay. I promise to visit a lot. For every holiday. And you guys can come see me too.” You try to lighten the mood as you note the sour faces. “It’ll just be four years. Then I can come home and work on getting my real estate license while working with Dad at Cameron development.”

“That’s my girl. Eyes on the prize,” he praises. 

“Always.”

He sweeps an icy glance over Rafe.

“If only a certain someone followed your example.”

Your brother flinches. He’s been a bit more withdrawn than everyone else during the party. Besides singing ‘Happy Birthday’, he hasn’t said a word to you. You surmise he’s not too eager to see you leave either. Out of all your siblings, you are the closest to Rafe. 

While he was standoffish when you first met, he’s warmed up to you considerably over the years. He’s not just your brother. He’s also your confidant. You can count on one hand the things you don’t share with Rafe.

“Come on, dad. That’s not fair,” you say, trying your best to dissipate the tension in the air. “He’s just on his own path.” 

Rafe bolts from his seat, stomping out of the room and heading to the balcony. 

Your shoulders slump.

“Not everyone has to go to college to succeed. You know that. And so does Mom.”

“You’re right.” He heaves out a weary breath. “But I’m not mad that your brother dropped out of college. I’m mad he doesn’t care about anything he can’t shove up his nose or get high with.”

Concern scrunches your mother’s features. 

“Honey,” she says.

“Alice, he’s twenty-two years old. It’s time for him to grow up.”

Bereft of arguments to defend Rafe, and with your dad being stubborn as ever, you elect to join him on the balcony. The cool night breeze seeps through your clothes. Goosebumps break out on your skin as you shiver by Rafe’s side. 

You decide to crack his shell with a lighthearted joke. 

“So I don’t get a gift from my big brother this year?”

A smile breaks out on Rafe’s face. He turns to you.

“But you always say you don’t want anything because you already have everything.”

You give him a harmless punch in the rib. He pretends to be deeply hurt by it and bursts out in laughter.

“I’m kidding,” he admits. “I'll give it to you later this week. It’s something you’ve wanted for a long time, promise. There was just a…temporary shortage.”

You acquiesce. You let a comfortable silence hang between you and him for a while before speaking again.

You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry about Mom and Dad,” you blurt out.

Shrugging, he scoffs, “It’s fine. It’s not like Dad will stop riding my ass all the time. At least Alice doesn’t have her foot on my neck 24/7.”

You grip his arm.

“They’re just worried about you. About your future.” Rafe’s jaw clenches, his blue eyes set forward. “You know Dad loves you. He’s just not very good at showing it.” Hope laces your tone. “Maybe try to stop by the office more? I’m sure he’ll appreciate you showing interest in the family business.” You shift closer to him, whispering. “Even Sarah can’t be bothered, just so you know.” This makes his hard gaze fall on you. Talking about Sarah never fails to make Rafe’s blood pressure rise. Even after all that time, the two of them can’t seem to get along. “You’re always talking about being proactive and all that. Then be proactive, Rafe.”

He studies you for a while before a slow smirk unfans on his lips. 

“You know…that is actually not a bad idea, princess.”

“Of course it’s a great idea. I had it,” you jest, drawing a hearty chuckle from him.

The buzzing of your phone shatters the moment. You startle. You hastily grab it from the pocket of your cardigan. 

“Just give me a minute,” you utter apologetically. You step away for a bit. Rafe’s eyes on you are sharp as you check your phone. The message you receive has you fighting a smile. You feel giddy that he remembered your birthday. You don’t even remember telling him it was today. Suppressing the goofy grin threatening to take over the bottom of your face, you return to your spot next to Rafe. 

“Who was that?” he asks.

You lie with ease. While you love Rafe, he can be so overprotective. To a suffocating degree at times. No guy will approach you because the mere knowledge that Rafe Cameron is your brother and will surely dole out a severe beating if any guy so much as stares at his sister too long makes most of them steer clear. Some of your suitors have tried, the brave, reckless ones, but Rafe would scare each of them away. 

There’s been a boy lately. One who eluded your brother’s relentless scrutiny. Familiar, but also kind of new. Rafe would blow a fuse if he knew who it was. He can’t find out. Not yet anyways. 

You slap on a mask of nonchalance. 

“No one.”

He gives a nod, licking his lips. He seems to mull over something before narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

“Are you hiding something?”

Your stomach knots. You try to keep an even, casual tone. You fail. 

“I-I’m not. Why would you say that, Rafe?”

“I don’t know. You were acting shifty just then.”

“I’m allowed to have some privacy, Rafe. I’m not a kid anymore.”

His jaw ticks. He takes a small step back, as if your words hit him square in the face. 

“But we never had any secrets for each other, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

His blue eyes trap yours. 

“So who was it, princess?”

You shudder. Keeping things from him is near impossible. He knows you like a book he’s read every single page from. Again and again. 

This is how you know your subterfuge can't be a complete success. Still, you stick to your story.

“Like I said, Rafe. No one,” you maintain.

He bends over you, seizing your hand and tucking it against his chest. Your heart skips a beat. 

“You know I’m just trying to protect my little sister, right? That’s all I’ve ever tried to do, protect you.”

“I know,” you say, a small smile tugging your lips. 

He rubs his thumb across your palm, squeezing your fingers more tightly than before. You wince at the pressure. It’s on the thin edge of pain.

“So…you’d tell me if there was anything new in your life, anyone?”

Your pulse quickens. The lie aches as it rises from your throat this time. Needles of deceit. You aren’t used to lying to your brother. 

“Of course, Rafe. You’d be the first to know,” you chime, forcing a false, wobbly smile on your face.

He stares at you for so long that it grows unnerving. After an eternity, his grip on your hand slackens. You rub your pulsing fingers, a frown wrinkling your brow. 

He crosses his arms over the railing, eyes fixated on the night as he mumbles under his breath, “Good.”

You don’t know how to answer that, a wave of unease, cooler than the night chill, passing through you somehow. 

[natailiatulls07]

could i request some leclerc!reader and so comfort with charles please

It's okay

Arthur Leclerc Charles Leclerc Lorenzo Leclerc Pascale Leclerc & Leclerc!reader

Summary - In order to find her way in life, Y/n Leclerc runs away in the dead of night only leaving a note

Warning - neglection, running away

-

Growing up with three older brothers and two of such competing in karting competions, life was hard for Y/n Leclerc. Pascale and Hervé invested lots of their money and energy into Arthur and Charles.

When she was seven, Y/n's interest in ballet started. The young girl had her heart set on being a professional ballerina. So thats what she did. Y/n convince Pascale to enrol her in ballet class.

From then on, she became more and more talented. Quickly becoming the top of class. Yet when recitals came round and she was the lead, the only person who came to watch was Lorenzo.

The rest of the family were out at karting competitions cheering on Charles and Arthur. Yes they would apolgise to Y/n for their absence but to her it never really felt quite right.

-

Y/n was 14 years old, life got harder. Karting turned to formula 2 and E. Lorenzo now building his own life, he moved out of the house.

And the worst of all, Hervé Leclerc passed away. This meant attention was limited, Pascale was busy. She had her salon to run, she was running around supporting the two boys racing and she was mourning the lose of her partner.

As much as he wanted to support Y/n during her recitals, Lorenzos life became busier and he could no longer come along each recital. She felt as though no one her family could see her or her talent.

So what did she do? Y/n collected enough money to enrol herself into a ballet academy. In the dead of night she packed just enough and left without a sound. Of course she couldn't leave without leaving a note, she loved her family.

Dear Maman, Charlie and Arthur, I love you all dearly, please don't worry about me. I will be gone for a while, Lo Lo knows where I will be but please do not pester him. Thank you for everything and more Love from your dearest daughter, Y/n xx

-

Y/n Leclerc was a sensation, one of the best of her age. She was a household name, even if you weren't that well educated on ballet you knew who this elegant women was.

However, it was rare for the ballerina to speak publicily, Espercially as many would ask of her surname and family relations. And it wasn't hard to understand why.

"So Y/n please tell me, any relation to formula one driver Charles Leclerc?"

"No comment, thank you"

Charles, Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo watched on, following her social media through burner accounts not wanting to make this harder for Y/n.

They could see how she spent most of her time dancing, spending time to herself or getting cocktails with friends she made along the way.

~

yourusername

Week in my life...

Spending time alone, you must prioritize self care

Fruit cocktails with friends, the key to my heart

Looking after the minis, they're the cutest little things

Lounging on my sofa after a long day of rehearsals, it is tiring!

Liked by cl_2648749 and 146,283 others

comments are limited

username Gorg gorg girlie

cl_2648749 <3

username I so wanna be her friend omfggg

~

But she wasn't stupid, Y/n knew who those burner accounts were. Every single post, the burner accounts were there front and center. She felt their eyes on her, it was silly really but she constantly felt like they were watching her.

However, Y/n felt warm with that in mind. Like they were finally noticing her for the first time. No longer was she fighting for the attension with her two older brothers. But was it just online? If she were to go back, would it go back to how it was before.

Plus she had built up a life on ballet. Y/n made a family with her friends. Everyone knew her, fuck she is a household name hiding her Leclerc identity from the world, even herself.

-

"I think it's a good idea! It's been long overdue in my opinion"

"No. We need to work to her choices, not make her uncomfortable."

"Okay when?!" Charles throws his arms in the air with frustration. He was pacing in front of the television; Arthur, Pascale and Lorenzo all sat on the sofa watching him.

The topic of Y/n came up in passing by Arthur and it became much more. Charles was fighting, he was desperate to get his dear little sister back home. However Lorenzo, knowing how Y/n felt about everything, was fighting back and trying to prioritize her feelings.

The constant pacing stopped abruptly, and Charles turned to look at Lorenzo with a harsh glare. "Why do you want to so desperately work to her choices? Are you in contact with her?" You could hear a penny drop.

Eyes snapped over to the oldest boy, all confused and harsh. Lorenzo sunk into himself. "I um..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Yeah um so I kept contact with her yes"

"Is she okay?" The first question Pascale asked. Years of guilt plagued her mind, she neglected her own daughter and she was now paying the price for that.

Lorenzo nodded. "Yes, she's okay...Y/n she um built up a family through her friends and as you know she is doing well for herself..." A small proud smile morphed onto his face, he was proud of her for doing this for herself.

"Does she hate us for what we did?"

He breathed in and out. "No, she doesn't hate any of us...she understands completely..." That did ease some guilt for the other three, it would of killed them to know that she hated them, her own family.

There was silence for a couple of minutes whilst they all fell into their own thoughts. And then Pascale spoke up again. "Can you at least text her or call her whatever...talk to her, please tell her that we love her and that we want to see her again...we're so so proud and sorry"

Arthur and Charles both nodded in agreement. "I'll see what I can do..." Lorenzo promised.

-

It seemed that the next time they would see Y/n would come round much soon than expected. It wasn't planned, totally sporadic.

Charles was in the kitchen, in Lorenzos apartment. He was scrolling through his phone when there was a ring coming from Lorenzos phone. "Lorenzo! Your phone, it's ring!" Looking over the driver read the name.

Y/n

He knew it was wrong to answer the call, but it felt right like this would do something so he did. Charles picked up the phone and answer.

Before he could speak the voice he missed so dear filled his ear, yet it was panicked and he could hear uneven breathing.

"Lo I'm sorry please, I came back to Monte C but uh um the paps they um oh my god I can't breathe they keep following me! Please please I don't- I don't know where to go!" He missed her voice, granted it for much more mature and wiser now, he still missed it.

Though he was entranced by the situation, now very concerned. "It's okay, it's okay" His mind was on speed mode, much like it was in the car. "Send me the location, I'll come and collect you"

Y/n's voice came out calmer and confused now. "Cha...is that you?"

Charles nodded his head before realising she couldn't see him. "Yeah um it is Cha, I'm on my way" He rushed down to his ferrari.

-

Pulling up to her location, his heart clenched. Y/n had grown so much since he had last seen her, she had grown into herself and looked alot like Pascale now.

Charles climbed out of his car, walking over to her and collided her into a bone crushing hug. "Oh chérie, je suis vraiment désolé..." Oh darling, I'm so sorry

Tears soaked his shoulder, the whole chaos of the day and reuniting with her older brother weighing down on Y/n had finally toppled off completely.

She couldn't speak, just hung onto him. That long time spent away from her family catching up to her. "It's okay...it's okay..." Charles whispered in her ear.

-

[ssparksflyy]

BUT I DONT WANNA DANCE, IF IM NOT DANCING WITH YOU ♡ !

pairing percy jackson x ballerina!reader summary (smau) just a few days in the life as a pro ballerina nd her loving bf ( ꈍ◡ꈍ) an guys i dont know anything abt ballet please dont come for me 😭 also!! first smau and first time writing in foreverrrrr

♡ liked by perseajackson, annie.beth, prettygirlpipes, hazelluvsu, clarisseswrld, lightning.mcqueen and others

soyn last few days in the studio have been soso hectic but im forever great full i get to spend them with some of the most beautiful amazing dancers in the whole wide worlddd ‹𝟹 ( dont forget to buy ur tickets for our upcoming recital !! )

annie.beth u guys literally look so good !! popped in the other day to help with lighting issues and oh em gee im so excited nd proud!!

⤷ soyn and u didnt say hello !! literally what !!

⤷ annie.beth my boss didnt let me ᴖ̈

⤷ soyn they hate to see us together fr

tallesttiptoes blood sweat nd tears going into this guys buy ur tickets ꃋᴖꃋ

⤷ soyn no literally like the amount of band-aids i have on rn ....

⤷ perseajackson can confirm shes gone through two boxes of hello kitty band-aids in the last month

lightning.mcqueen where can i buy tickets plsss (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

⤷ soyn TY JASON !! (balletwebsite.com) !!

♡ liked by soyn, letsbefrank, sillysallyjackson, underwoodz, annie.beth, fireboy, lightning.mcqueen and others

perseajackson day like forty seven of trying new recipes except when i tried making what i had originally planned i spilled like half of our salt ... we resorted to pasta but its a win cause my gf loves pasta

fireboy how the hell did u spill half of ur salt

⤷ perseajackson ive literally watched you intentionally put seven cups of salt into a cake before

⤷ fireboy ... and what im a salty man

⤷ prettygirlpipes we know

lightning.mcqueen waiting for the day u make me dinner ᴖ̈

⤷ perseajackson ill make u a full course meal bro dw

⤷ lightning.mcqueen bro ily

⤷ perseajackson omg no ily more

view more replies

soyn best chef in ny fr !! after ur mom ofc

⤷ perseajackson real i can never compete with her she'd eat me up

⤷ soyn its cause she's sally jackson babe dw

now playing ... birds of a feather by billie eilish

♡ liked by annie.beth, soyn, perseajackson, lightning.mcqueen, hazelluvsu, fireboy, letsbefrank and others

prettygirlpiper group met up at the fair this weekend nd omg ... i have not laughed n had so much fun since i cant even remember like core memory fr + everybody's fav couple making the whole fair feel single

annie.beth WE LITERALLY NEED TO DO THIS MORE IT WAS SM FUN

⤷ fireboy YALL DONT UNDERSTAND I HAVE NO LIFE IM FREE WHENEVERRR ( ˶•ᴖ•) !!

hazelluvsu i had so much fun except for when i almost died of laughter after watching jason lose at thirteen games in a row

⤷ lightning.mcqueen TRAITOR

⤷ perseajackson damnnnn u did my man dirty hazel

⤷ letsbefrank nah cause it was genuinely sad after a while

⤷ lightning.mcqueen percy ur the only one who understands me

soyn ily guys sm omgggg (pipes dont be shy send me that pic ˘ ³˘)

⤷ prettygirlpiper i gotchu pooks dw ♡

♡ liked by perseajackson, tallesttiptoes, letsbefrank, luvrgirlsteph, annie.beth, prettygirlpiper, fireboy and others

soyn im working late, cause im a singer dancer ( recital is in two days we r stressing but so ready !! )

tallesttiptoes OH YEAH im so ready (im not ready at all) literally so pumped (crying in my closet rn) i CANNOT wait (im going to kms)

⤷ luvrgirlsteph WE GOT THIS GIRL DONT KYS ‹𝟹

perseajackson ilysm babe u got this !!

⤷ soyn tysm percy ily (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

⤷ prettygirlpiper omg i hate u guys #bringbacktoxiccouples

⤷ perseajackson stay jealous

hazelluvsu u got this yn !! ur an amazing leader i just know all the girls in ur studio r so lucky to be working with u !!

⤷ tallesttiptoes YESS WE AREEEE

⤷ luvrgirlsteph yn my fav dancer fr !!

⤷ soyn ilysm pretty girls ‹𝟹

now playing ... new years day by taylor swift

♡ liked by perseajackson, tallesttiptoes, annie.beth, prettygirlpiper, fireboy, clarisseswrld, lightning.mcqueen and others

soyn theres glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, and i am holding onto these memories as they hold onto me- we did it !!

perseajackson words cannot explain how proud i am of u babe, i literally started crying and the guy next to me hugged me and we cried TOGETHER

⤷ soyn NO WAY NO U DID NOT

⤷ lightning.mcqueen yes he did leo and i can confirm ill send u the pics rn

⤷ soyn THIS IS GOLDEN WHAT

fireboy THAT WAS SO COOL U LOOKED LIKE A PRINCESS I WANNA DO BALLET

⤷ soyn BETTTT LEO U GOT THAT

⤷ prettygirlpiper ohmygod i cannot wait to see how this ends

annie.beth U GUYS DID SO WELL IT WAS AMAZING !!

⤷ hazelluvsu my jaw was literally on the floor to whole time ꃋᴖꃋ

⤷ letsbefrank drop the leg day routine cause HOW

⤷ soyn STOPPP ILY GUYS SM (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

© ssparksflyy ┊ ur user was inspired by so high school n so american - like if you put my name in it would be 'sobells' yk?? yk.

[whosmarii]

Said you needed love.

ᯤ Started: 25/01/24.

ᯤ Finished:

Summary:

Tony loves his wife, Pepper. He loves his last daughter, Morgan. And he loves Peter like the son he never had. But you? his first born daughter, he doesn't even know your name.

tw: daddy issues (everything that this entail), no corrections yet.

*reader is fem. slow burn. Peter x reader. Kinda rivals to lovers.

Prologue.

You are a genius, you got that from him. You study from home, a teacher for each subject meticulousy selected by Tony to give you the best clases of the country. Not because he cares for you, but because you have to reach the expectations of the people. Imagine, the daughter of Tony Stark, aka Iron man, being an ordinary person.

You didn't need all the teachers, you were a genius because it was in your genes. That wasn't enought to meet your father expectations tho.

You did everything in your power to get a proud look (or at least a look) from your dad. You have the best grades, you learned two different languages in a time lapse of two months, you read five books of classic literature in three days, you knew how to play seven different instrument plus you knew how to sing, you were a professional ballet dancer, you knew aeronautical and chemical engineering, and the list could go on and on.

Nothing seems to satisfy him.

Sometimes, because Pepper have told him to or because he couldn't escape the situation, he would mumble a "congrats" or "yeah, good" while he kept working on whatever he was working. Not even looking at your direction.

You loved Morgan, she was probably the only person in your house that actually cared for you. And you were happy she didn't have to live the same horrible situation you did. But you couln't help the self-sabotaging feeling of jealousy that warmed you heart every time they were together. You didn't understand. What does she have that i dont? why can't i be enough like she is?

Pepper loves you, she tells you that recurrently. But she never did anything to get Tony to be a proper dad. It isn't her responsability but, she is your mother. She sees you suffer because of him and does nothing.

You live in a house with two adults and a five year old little girl, and the only person that treats you pretty...is the five year old. Therefore you love to spend time with the Avengers, they fill a space in your hearts that should be fill by your father. Especially Bruce, he is so fatherly loving, it warms your heart and put tears of joy in your eyes.

Having Bruce to care for you is so important that if he asks you to have sexual relationships with him you would say yes just to keep having his love. You would have sex with all the avengers man if that meant them loving you.

When you heard Tony tell Pepper about the arrival of a new Avenger of 15 years, your heart stoped. What if she is better than me? What if they love her more than they love me? what if-

Peter. That's the name your father said. It was a male. That was soothing. You usually didn't like boys of your age, but maybe this one was different.

You already know that Tony loves him. The way he talks about Peter is almost shivery. "Peter is a genius, that boy has a future." "He is a good boy. Sweet and all" And that aunt of his... such a display" "The Avengers are going to love him".

Now the soothing feeling is gone and the fear is back.

He sounded good. That was bad.

You can't hate someone good. But you can't like him neither.

He wasn't presented to the Avengers yet. You didn't know how he looked yet. But the boy was already tearing apart the only part of your life that wasn't crumbling.

@whosmarii | Please do not copy, rewrite or translate my work without asking me and reciving my approval first. Thank you!

[jadewolf22]

A little fluffy Larissa x reader request

Y/N: “Who names a cat Agatha?”

Larissa: “I do.”

A Book Full of Memories

Fem!Reader x Larissa

Warnings: Pretty much pure fluff, itty bitty bit of angst, talk of verbally abusive/neglectful parents, lmk if there's anything I missed

A/N: Omg. Thank you so much @chromium-siren for this request! Aaahhh, the dialogue is so freaking cute! Sorry it got a little angsty... I hope I did it justice! I am soo sorry this took so long to answer, life's been crazy af lately.

Word Count: 1,094

You hadn't meant to go snooping, really you didn't, but you'd gotten bored waiting for Larissa to finish up her phone call with the mayor so the two of you could have the weekend to yourselves so you went looking around her apartment for ways to entertain yourself. You were fishing around one of her bookshelves, looking for something to read, when your eyes landed on a navy and gold leather photo album. Allowing your curiosity to get the better of you, you took the album from its place on the shelf and retreated to Larissa's bed, leafing through the pages to pass the time. Despite having know Larissa for nearly five years as a colleague and having been dating her for eleven months you still didn't know much about her childhood. You knew she was an only child and that she didn't have the greatest relationship with her parents but, beyond that, the young Larissa Weems was a mystery to you, a mystery that this photo album was helping to unravel. There were pages full of a young Larissa (7-12 years old if you had to guess) doing a plethora of sports; Fencing, gymnastics, golf, horseback riding, swim, and ballet. Others were of her and her parents out on vacations, lounging around their home, celebrating birthdays and holidays as well as first day of school pictures from kindergarten all the way to her first year at Nevermore and pictures of Larissa holding up different awards for both academics and sports.

You lost yourself in the photos, oblivious to the time passing you buy until you heard the door creak open and the familiar sound of heels against wood. Your eyes snapped up from the book, clouding over with a mildly guilty look when you caught Larissa watching you, her eyes flickering between your face and the book almost in question.

"Hi, darling," she purred, sighing tiredly as she shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her heels, "What do you have there?"

"I-um... Well..." you stampered, waiting for the scolding you were sure to receive when she realized it was her photo album you were looking at.

As Lariss walked closer her eyes fell upon the open page, her eyes widening slightly as she recognized the photos on it. You waited patiently for the scolding that never came. Instead, you were given a soft, almost sad smile as Larissa climbed onto the bed beside you, pulling the book off of your lap and placing it on hers. She smile widened as she stared down at the page, rubbing her thumb over one of the photos. Larissa was incredibly young in the photo, no more than six or seven, dressed in a plaid skirt and white blouse and cradling a white long-haired cat in her arms.

"Is the cat yours?" you inquired, watching your girlfriend carefully for any signs that you had crossed a line.

"Yes. Agatha was a gift from my Aunt." Larissa answered, turning her head away from the book to look at you.

"Agatha? you chuckled, smiling at Larissa sweetly, "Who names a cat Agatha?"

"I do," she said, fake pouting as she eyed you with those sweet, innocent puppy eyes that never failed to melt your heart.

"It's cute." you admitted, slidding your arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer, "Like you." you kissed the top of her head and Larissa giggled.

"We had her for about a year before my parents decided she was too much work and got rid of her," Larissa said sadly, looking back down at the photo, "Granted, they didn't tell me that until years later. Until then, I'd been under the impression that she'd run off... I'd like to get another one at some point."

"Awe, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." you cooed, squeezing her shoulders gently as you made a mental nore to yourself to surprise Larissa with a new kitten for her birthday.

"It wasn't the first time they'd lied to me, and it wasn't the worst lie they'd ever told me." Larissa sighed, tucking herself closer to you, "They were never... They were never the greatest parents... When I was about ten they started leaving me home alone for hours, sometimes days without telling me they'd left, and then would return as if nothing had happened. They monitored how much I ate and how much physical activity I did daily. 'You don't want to be fat and weak, do you Larissa?' they'd say every time I questioned it... No matter what I did or how I looked, I was never enough for them..."

"Rissa..." you weren't sure what to say. You knew her parents had been... unkind, but that was straight up abusive and it made your heart ache. Larissa hadn't-doesn't-deserve that, "Angel, I'm so sorry. That wasn't right of them to say and do those kinds of things to you. You are perfect, in every way, shape, and form. Heck, you might as well be the definition of the word. Anyone who has ever told you otherwise is a fool."

Larissa smiled, looking up at you with glassy eyes and you didn't hesitate to pull her into a hug, letting her use your shirt to wipe her eyes, not caring about the makeup stains she was sure to leave behind.

"You're beautiful," you reminded her, "And, for what it's worth, you're mine."

"Thank you, Darling." she whispered, planting a gentle kiss to your jaw before laying her head on your shoulder, "I love you."

"I love you too, Riss." you replied, holding her close as you stared down at the album still lying on her lap, "For now, and forever."

"For now, and forever." she repeated sleepily, finishing the sentence with a yawn.

"Alright, come on. Let's get you ready for bed." you placed another light kiss to the top of her head before urging her to stand, convincing her to allow you to help her dress and freshen up for the night.

After you'd helped her back into bed you took the album and put it back in its place on the shelf before shutting off the lights and joining Larissa. You thought of the book as you drifted off to sleep; Sure, it had answered some of your questions, but it had also opened others. You longed to know what else Larissa's parents had lied to her about, if only so you could try and amend them. You loved her to death and wanted to show that in every way possible, even if she already knew it.

[ww2yaoi]

[In honour of Webgott Wednesday, here's the first scene of the other Webgott WIP I have on the go whose working title is too deranged to mention. Anyways, enjoy.]

Spring of 1952. San Francisco, California.

Joe and Web have a tradition.

In the middle of the week, every week, Joe closes up the shop for lunch and meets Web halfway to the Chronicle building in the park across from City Hall. Joe brings sandwiches he buys at the kosher deli next door and they eat and drink coffee and complain about work until their hour is up.

Today is no different. Joe finds Web in their usual spot on a wooden bench by one of the fountains, the afternoon sun beaming down and bathing the pavement in buttery light. Joe loves San Francisco in April. The air is warm and featherlight, the breeze comparatively cool with seaspray, and the soupy summer fog has yet to swallow the Bay whole. Everything feels new after winter’s damp and windy gloom, and Joe is briefly reminded of Austria, of its misty mountains and glass-like lakes. It had been a springtime of rebirth after a long, hard war.

Well, mostly.

Web is always a sight in his well-tailored suits, charcoal gray tweed today, his tie a deep maroon. He’s taken off his jacket and folded it across his knee, the sleeves of his starched white Oxford rolled up to reveal his hirsute forearms. This is his uniform now. The last time Joe saw him in ODs was probably when they disembarked in New York Harbour at the tail end of 1945. He thinks Web might have burned them.

“Hey,” Joe says.

Web beams like they didn’t just see each other this morning. “Hey.”

He hands Joe the cup of coffee that was resting on the bench beside him and Joe sits down in its place. He sets the bag of sandwiches by his feet and grabs Web’s usual order, a pastrami on rye with extra pickles.

“How was the cable car?” Joe asks like he does most weeks, passing Web his sandwich and grabbing his own, corned beef with lots of mustard.

“Swarming with tourists, as per usual,” Web says with a grimace, unwrapping the paper from his sandwich.

Joe smirks. “Y’know, some lifelong San Franciscans would consider you a tourist.”

“Ugh, don’t insult me,” Web says, shooting him a look. He takes a generous bite of his sandwich then talks out of the side of his mouth. “What do they want from me? I’ve lived here for five years.”

“Yeah, but everyone can tell you’re from New York.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you think you’re better than everyone else. The New York wafts off of you like the odour of a finely aged cheese.”

“You did not just compare me to stinky cheese.”

“Hey, I specified ‘finely aged.’ Didn’t I?”

Web rolls his eyes. “Just eat your fucking sandwich.”

Joe snickers, then takes a bite of it, chews and swallows. “How’s the paper?”

Web just shakes his head. “This election is going to be the death of me.”

“It’s seven months away,” Joe says, a pocket of corned beef in his cheek.

“That doesn’t mean the whole office isn’t worked up about it,” Web counters. “Journalists…” He trails off. “My editor is breathing down my goddamn neck.”

Joe wipes mustard from the corner of his mouth and licks it off his finger. “Well, that’s what happens when you miss deadlines, Schatz.”

“Astute observation, Lieb.” Web glowers, but Joe knows he’s just being difficult on purpose. Always the same song and dance with him. “The article isn’t right yet.”

“Which article is this again?” Joe takes a sip of his coffee. “The one about the, uh, the mayor’s daughter’s ballet recital?”

Web smacks Joe in the chest. Joe was expecting as much, and he grins at having gotten a rise out of him.

“Uh, no,” Web says insistently. “I’m writing about the steelworkers union.”

“Right, the steelworkers union.”

Joe takes another bite of his sandwich and chews thoughtfully. Web had probably told him about it at one point or another, probably after sex. Web has always been too talkative for his own good around Joe, but he’s especially rambly after an orgasm. Joe likely hadn’t been listening. It’s enough to keep up with the virility of a twentysomething in bed, he doesn’t need a fucking dissertation afterwards.

“How’s business at the shop?” Web asks, changing the subject.

“Slow.” Joe picks at his sandwich wrapper. “You’d think people’s hair had stopped growing.”

Web laughs. “Well, hopefully, that’s not the case. We’d probably get evicted. Maybe it’ll pick up this afternoon.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

“Is Sal still getting on your nerves?”

Joe makes a pft sound. “Does the day of the week end in Y?”

They finish their sandwiches and coffees in companionable silence, watching as people stroll through the park with their dogs or their children who aren’t old enough to be in school yet. A well-dressed housewife walks past them pushing an expensive-looking pram. A little boy in overalls, no older than two, toddles behind her, pulling a toy truck on a string. She smiles politely at them, her eyes shaded by a pair of cat eye sunglasses and her lips a rubious red. A scarf battens down her kempt blonde curls, tied around her head with a neat bow beneath her chin.

Mom, tot, and baby are making their way to the adjacent fountain when a baby blanket hanging out of the bassinet falls to the ground. A soft pink crumple, bleached by the sunlight against the gray pavement. The woman fails to notice and her little boy pays it no mind. They continue on their walk, unaware that anything is amiss.

Before Joe can even say anything, Web is getting up from the bench and jogging over to the abandoned blanket. He scoops it off the ground and approaches the woman, getting her attention by gently tapping her on the elbow. She turns and Web presents the blanket to her like some kind of fairytale fucking prince, eliciting a wide, white smile from the woman, her teeth square and straight like a row of Chiclets. She takes off her sunglasses and places them on top of her head, probably to get a better look at Web. Joe can barely suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

The civilian world isn’t like the Army. In the Army, a pretty face like Web’s might get you relentlessly teased, or cause the men to take you less seriously until you prove otherwise. On the outside though, it’s all anyone seems to care about. People are always accosting Web, asking him for directions or chatting him up in line at the theater or next to him on the train. In the rare instances they go out to the Old Crow or the Black Cat, Joe has to keep a firm grip on him, in case some flit tries to take Web off his hands.

Web and the woman are chatting now, glancing down every so often to look at the baby in the pram. They’re far enough away that Joe can only pick up fragments of their conversation above the rushing of the fountains. Joe catches the words ‘daughter’ and ‘paper’ and ‘sweet.’ He fishes for his cigarettes in the breast pocket of his button-up and lights one, just so he has something to do with his hands. The smoke churns in his chest and the back of his neck prickles.

The little boy is shyly clinging to his mother’s skirt. She bends over and picks him up, balancing him on her hip. Web is smiling even wider now than he was when Joe first greeted him this afternoon. He waves hello to the little boy. Joe takes another sharp drag of his cigarette as Web says his goodbyes and then walks back to the bench where Joe is still sitting.

“Nice family,” Web says, plopping himself down again.

Joe doesn’t say anything. He taps ash from his cigarette onto the ground and tries to look preoccupied. Web checks his watch. He gathers up their sandwich wrappers and empty coffee cups and puts them into the paper bag to be thrown away. He’s still faintly smiling to himself as he does it. It’s just enough to make Joe’s anger boil over.

He scoffs. “Jesus, Web. Didn’t know you missed flirting with broads that much.”

Web’s head immediately snaps to the left so he can look at Joe. “What? I wasn’t flirting,” he insists. “I was just trying to be nice, and she was very clearly married.”

“Then what the hell are you smiling about?”

“Her kids! Her kids were cute,” Web says, raising his voice. He promptly lowers it as more parkgoers pass by them. “The little boy, Peter, and the baby, Judy. Christ, Joe. You know I like kids.”

Joe looks at Web. Web looks back at him. His eyes are so goddamn blue. Sometimes Joe thinks if Web were lying to him, he would be able to see it in his eyes, spot the untruth somewhere in that clear crystal blue, like a droplet of blood in water. Right now, however, all he sees is the person he loves most in this world, begging him not to be an asshole for once.

Joe’s jealousy fizzles out, mild embarrassment rushing in to take its place.

“Alright.” He shifts, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders, and fiddles with his cigarette. “Y’know, I did hear something about you in Holland, depleting the company’s Hershey bar supply by giving chocolate to every sad Dutch kid you saw.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The corners of Web’s mouth turn up ever so slightly in a smirk, and Joe knows his attempt to break the tension has worked. “You know about that? Who told you?”

“I don’t know. Hoobler maybe.”

“Hoobler.” Web repeats the name thoughtfully, like he’s testing it out on his tongue after not saying it for a long time. “Well, in my defense, the Krauts were starving them.”

“Wow, my fuckin’ hero. Where’s your Silver Star, Web? Is it in your sock drawer with your Purple Hearts?”

“Shut up,” Web says, but there’s barely any bite to it. “How has this not come up in the last however many years?”

Joe shrugs. “Maybe we talked about it and forgot.”

The truth is, they don’t reminisce deeply about the war very often. It comes up every now and again. Sometimes they linger on the more lighthearted memories, like a particularly funny joke Luz told or the summer afternoons they spent swimming together in Lake Zell. Anything weightier than that spells trouble for the both of them. Web becomes unspeakably angry when he talks seriously about the war, while Joe feels like he could cry ten years worth of tears.

Half a decade ago, Web had given Joe a rough manuscript of his recollections to read. Joe had barely made it five pages into the thing. He’d quickly realized that if he knew the full extent of Web’s pain, he’d never be able to disentangle himself from his own. Since then, they’ve tried not to reopen the wound, although Joe supposes that implies it closed in the first place.

Web checks his watch again. “Shit, I’m going to be late.”

“Well, then, you better go.”

“Alright.”

Web squeezes Joe’s knee — about all the affection they can get away with in public — and gets to his feet, coolly draping his suit jacket over his right shoulder like he thinks he’s Frank Sinatra or something.

“Thanks for lunch, Joe.”

“You’re welcome, Dave.”

Web turns and smiles at him, walking backwards in the direction of Market Street to catch another cable car.

“Ich liebe dich,” he says in German, in case anyone is listening. “Du bist mein Leben, meine Familie, mein Lieber.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joe waves him off. “All the same to you, kid.”

Web laughs, boisterous and beautiful, then finally turns his back to Joe. Joe watches him go, then heads off in the opposite direction.

[This fic is currently at 28k and hopefully I will finish it AT SOME POINT.]

[cheriladycl01]

The Deeper Connection - Zhou Guanyu x ChildhoodBestfriend! Reader

Plot: You made friends with Zhou when he first came to the UK to pursue his driving career, and you were like two pee's in a pod. When he reaches F1 and life gets busy for the both of you he finds solitude in your childhood hideout.

A/N: I haven't been that active lately with finals coming up, however I'm still trying to post regularly!

You'd grown up in Sheffield all your life, you lived in a very nice home and came from a pretty well off family. With a dad in oversea real estate and your mum as a business owner and entrepreneur in the UK you wouldn't ever have to ask for anything twice.

The trouble was that you tried out so many hobbies and none of them really tended to stick.

Ballet when you were at three, didn't work with zero hand to eye coordination.

Horse-riding when you were five, didn't work after you got bored with how slowly you were being taught to ride.

Acting school when you were seven, didn't work when you were bullied for only being there because of mummy and daddies money. This completely made you loose your passion for it.

Swimming when you were eight, which you had to stop because of a medical condition with the cold water in the winters and your body temperature not mixing well.

Space camp when you were nine, didn't work because you were bored where you already knew everything they talked to you about because it was a special interest of yours.

Pottery when you were ten, whenever something broke you got really disappointed and sad with yourself and eventually it became something you only did every now and then to avoid burnout.

Gymnastics when you were eleven, didn't work after getting bored within the first weeks and it taking up too much time.

You were 12 when you met Zhou Guanyu, he moved into a house down your road in the gated woodland community of large and wealthy farm homes and mansions.

You guys became close almost straight away, you'd spend every night in the treehouse that his dad built him when they first moved in. But he wasn't always around, some weekends you'd knock on his door and no-one but the maid would answer explaining that the family weren't around.

She'd let you into the house, where you'd wait for him in either his bedroom or out in the treehouse. Sometimes he wouldn't come back until 10pm, and you'd be curled up on his beanbag in his room, asleep and his parents would have to call yours suggesting yet another sleepover.

After 3 years of knowing him, you found out where he'd been going and why he was home schooled just like you. He would kart, but now he'd got into Italian Formula 4 and he wouldn't be home as much.

You'd cried begging him not to go, Zhou really was your only friend and even though it had only been three years of friendship you'd attached yourself to him insanely quickly.

Not that he minded of course.

Your managed to go see one race with him, it was in Monza and he'd won it all. And that weekend he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes, as a two giddy sixteen year olds and went on from there.

The distance got easier when he was in the European Formula 3 championship in 2016. You being 17 weren't actually allowed to make your own choices yet, but the minute you turned 18, 5 months after Zhou, you were following him around to each race.

At this stage taking a gap year before you were due to go to university was better for you, and Zhou. In 2018, he got the news he'd be going to Formula 2 for the 2019 and you'd been accepted to Oxford.

For that first year you made it work. You visited him at races when you had breaks from university and he would come stay with you in your small uni accommodation in the off season or when he had longer breaks into between races.

But when 2020 rolled around, and you were forced to be separated by the growth of COVID-19 your relationship fizzled out. You pushed and pushed trying to keep the sparks there but one day, Zhou phoned you explaining that he couldn't do it anymore.

You'd cried so much that day, and you'd never felt more alone. The only place you thought to go that was safe was the tree house, you could get there through the side gate and you knew Zhou's parents were in China on business only leaving the maid there.

So that's what you did, you laid there curled up in a blanket Zhou brought you, crying until it got darked and you started to scare yourself looking into the dark woods.

When you were younger and you thought you heard or saw something in the woods, Zhou would hold you close explaining to you it was just your imagination and you'd immediately feel a sense of calm wash over you.

You left the treehouse that night getting on the last train you could think off back to Oxford.

Zhou continued in F2 in 2021, but got progressively more busy when competing in a small stint of the Winter F3 Asian Championship, of course you kept up to date with him.

You loved the boy and you didn't ever think you'd stop.

When the announcement of his promotion into F1 happened you cried happy and sad tears. Happy he'd achieved his dream, but ultimately sad he was in the big leagues now and he would definitely have no time for you.

He had a phenomenal first year and you watched every single race, even getting up at absurd hours to watch him. You cheered him on all the time and would get anxious whenever you had to stop or DNF.

Silverstone with the Russell incident was the worst. You parents had to hold you tightly as you cried seeing just how bad the crash was. Seeing George run over to his flipped over car that he couldn't get out of and a red flag being called.

You ran out the house going straight to the treehouse. His parents watched as the 22 year old climbed up the old rickety ladder, bag in hand and red bloodshot eyes.

They knew you'd seen his crash and you wanted some space.

What did shock them was the fact that you consistently came back every night for a few weeks.

It was a warmer night and you still had your blanket but there wasn't a need for a hoodie when you first came out. You were just laying there on the wooden planks looking out of the little skylight in the breaking wooden roof at the stars.

"Hey" a voice says softly making you turn to the ladder.

"Zhou?!" you explain sitting up quickly looking at him. Not that you hadn't seen him on Instagram or in his post race interviews but he'd grown into his face. He was as handsome as ever.

"Mmmmm" he sighs, almost in a grunt sort of way. He comes next to you and lays down, not coming to close scared that you'll leave if he pushes to close.

"Your star is up there tonight" he says raising his hand and pointing to the brightest star between the tree line. He'd named it your star when you'd spend the first night out here.

"How's it been, travelling round the world?" you ask softly turning to look at him, laying on your side. He turns onto his as well to also look at you.

"Lonely" he whispers with a sigh, pushing some of you hair behind your ear making you hold you breath as his fingers brush along the side of you face and down to your lips before recoiling his hand back.

"But your so busy and round people all the time!" you argue confused as to why he would ever feel lonely.

"I think sometimes even though I'm surrounded by people, they aren't people that get me... you know?" he asks turning onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"I think i feel the opposite" you laugh.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his gaze not wavering from the sky.

"I feel like i have absolutely no-one around me, but everyone i do bump into can see right through me" you sigh, having struggled at work recently as a graduate and new employee, working from home.

"Seems like we both are out of our comfort zones then" he offers with a sigh.

"Mmmmm i did have my comfort zone at one point" you say, it came out pointedly which you didn't intend.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking over at you again.

"Yeah it was you. I don't think I've ever experienced a connection like I have... had with you" you sigh.

"Had, you don't feel that way anymore?" he asks with a sad frown, that makes a frown of you own appear.

"You broke up with me in one of the loneliest periods in my life, It's always just been you Zhou, I've never had anyone else and then you were just gone ... I- you broke me and took a part with you" you sniffle, not sure how else to describe the heartbreak you were feeling.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would splinter all over and someone would come along and patch it back up until it healed.

Some people had their heart broken, where it would completely shatter and all the pieces are spread out and someone has to come along and pick up all of those pieces and puzzle them back together.

Some people have their heart broken, where it again completely shatters but the culprit takes a piece of that heart with them so that if theirs a time when someone else does come around and fix it it's never fully fixed, beating but never full.

And Zhou had that piece of your heart and no-one had put back the remaining parts of your heart, you'd gradually started to do it yourself but it was proving to be a long process.

"I-" he starts but chokes on his words.

"I think, I'll always love you Zhou Guanyu..." you whisper sitting up, your hair loosely falling over your shoulder.

"I know I'll always love you. And I want to take back everything I did! I need you in my life!" he says looking over you, making you look down.

"You cant take it back Zhou..." you start before looking up seeing his teary expression. "But i think we could start again. I don't want my heart back, it's yours to take... all of it forever. Your only going to be it!" you smile, knowing this was your chance to have him back.

He was your soulmate you were sure of it.

He leans up and pulls you into a kiss.

"I promise from here on out, I'll never leave you again again!"

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[sliebman10]

Dance AU

Tendu right. One, two, three, four

Tendu left. Five, six, seven, eight.

Plie and up, releve and down.

Again.

The teacher wove in and out of the identically dressed boys, lined up at the barre. She stopped to fix Remus’s turnout as usual. Sirius couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Some people hadn’t learned technique when they were three and four years old, barely able to reach the barre like him. His mother wouldn’t have stood for anything else. 

She nodded approvingly at Sirius as he went through the combination on the other side. 

Later, they were rehearsing for their showcase. He and Remus has a pas de deux together in the middle. He couldn’t help but stare at Remus’s long lines and sharp pointed foot. What Remus lacke din technique, he made up in grace on the floor. Even Sirius could see that. Clearly Remus loved ballet and had worked hard to get where he was.

He’d heard his cousins whisper derisively about “scholarship students” and turning up their noses  at anyone not from their insular circle. But Remus was a breath of fresh air. He didn’t care about any of that. He just wanted to dance.

And dance he did. Sirius tried not to be too distracted watching Remus as he danced his own part. Remus brought out the playfulness in his dancing that he’d thought he’d lost as a little kid. With Remus as his dance partner, he could rediscover the whimsy he was afraid he’d lost. 

When they were done, they bowed to each other and ran off, making room for the next pair.

“Nice job,” Sirius said, bumping Remus’s fist.

“I didn’t land that double pirouette like I wanted,” Remus said.

“Just say ‘thank you,’” Sirius said.

Remus’s face softened and he looked away shyly. “Thank you.”

Word Count: 302

@wolfstarmicrofic

[themotherofblood]

Hello! If applications for the Bloody Baby series are open, can I ask for an evening of stories? They are all together by the fireplace and the baby asks about their past as she is fond of history. And at your discretion, sex during the conversation.

absolutely yes!! I’m gonna do smut on the next one :) on this one and focus on the fluff, mainly because your prompt will be great for answering some questions about our lovely vamp daemyra! What, How, When? Thank you for the request. Also Chanel exists in Modern! Westeros. Do what you will with that info hehe

Vampire!Daemon x fem!reader x Vampire!Rhaenyra

masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au

Warnings: mentions of murder, anti!green, mentions of genocide and blood (obviously)

You groaned awake, hearing the birds chirp outside and rays of sunshine bleeding in your bedroom. You stretched out your legs, whimpering at the gentle sting that made itsself very apparent. Patches of bandages stuck to your right inner thigh and left jugular. One on your wrist that only stopped bleeding as of yesterday. You shuffled off the bed, the floor under your feet was warm (heated) as you padded your feet over to the bathroom.

Daemon had ordered the attendants clearly, while he does enjoy your figure prancing around in just a shirt, visually your little human body looked much stirring in the pretty dresses Daemon and Rhaenyra had filled in your closet to the brim. At first you would gawk, terrified at all clothes. You doubted even blood donation for money could afford you such labels. Your newest excitement however was realizing the entire collection of Chanel ballet flats just casually laying at the bottom of the shoe shelf. You had with much joy, slipped on the baby pink pair over your white socks and headed out to breakfast.

Their head housekeeper had informed you that they had not returned yet. Rhaenyra and Daemon had headed out to hunt, while they relished the taste of your blood on their tongue. They could only drain you (safely) so many times, leaving a few days to let you recover and replenish your blood before sinking their teeth in once more. Rhaenyra found it mildly discomforting to be around you while she was hungry, a craving is one thing— hunger is death.

You felt like a kidnapped princess stuck in a castle, very much like Beauty and the Beast but Rhaenyra and Daemon were anything but beasts. While there had been no formal rules around the palace, you never ventured around it much. The first few weeks your anxiety tore at your so hard, if you weren’t awake and servicing the two of them or being fed on. You were sleeping, heart heavy and away in a dream world. You wondered often, what they did about the life you came from?

Your halted progression to a university degree, your part time job at the cafè, your mother—you wondered if she tried to cash out your life insurance yet. Your friends, they might have been the only ones a little worried, it felt like a child being grounded, having all your technology away. There was a theatre, they told you about it and yet you were too afraid to touch it. This wasn’t your home.

Once you had very throughly enjoyed your breakfast of eggs on toast, you would have taken a right from the main corridor back to your wing, instead you walked forward toward the east wing. It felt intrusive to do so but your curiousity began eating at you, living in a palace built nearly a thousand years ago. Every trim on the ceiling had a story to tell.

What you stumbled across was a gallery, of small paintings to giant seven foot paintings, over time you had hunch of who Daemon and Rhaenyra were. Their names so prevalent in history, in a world ages ago when this continent was known as Westeros, if the books were true. You pitied them. There was painting right at the end of the corridor, perhaps the biggest one hung. The fine oil painting, aged and masterful.

You could recognize Rhaenyra in it, sat with a swaddled baby in her arms with Daemon stood next to her. Three boys of brown hair, two boys of white. Two dark skinned little girls and a boy stood next to Daemon and a little toddler girl on the floor. Dressed to nines in gold and fine gowns. Their family.

“Curious?” Daemon’s voice boomed from behind you, making you flinch.

You turned to him sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as he approached you. “That- that’s you, isn’t it?” You asked. Daemon nodded, turning you back to the painting as he held onto your waist before turning your head to kiss your lips.

“That’s a lot of children,” you said as a matter of fact as Daemon resumed his daily need to suckle a bruise onto the crook of neck.

Daemon chuckled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as his nose took a long waft of your scent.

“Are they all yours?” your nosiness had you blurting your thought out. You bit your tongue the second you asked it. He nodded, “Rhaenyra birthed them all?” You eyes widened. “Bloody hell.”

Your horrified face was one of much amusement to Daemon, he knew of how little bloodline sentiments meant in this era. He wasn’t super keen into forcing one to have a child back in 120 AC, neither would he now if he could ever have them again. Your eyes squinted to read the little description etched onto the golden frame.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Royal Consort Daemon Targaryen and their dragon seeds,”

From what you had read about the ancient great houses, they would rather jump off of cliffs than not come up with macabre titles to do with their house sigils. You giggled, dragonseed. A tad dramatic but that was the beauty and irrationality of history, everything was of honour and blood then it seemed.

“You called your children dragonseed?” There was knowing glint in Daemon’s eyes as he quirked up a brow.

“No—no?” disbelief, pure disbelief.

You shriek as Daemon bent down to throw your body over his shoulder. You knocked at your legs “Daemon I wanna know!”

He carried you all the way upstairs, instead of turning left to your rooms, he carried you to his. He dropped you down by the fire place when Rhaenyra was already sat with a book in her lap. You pouted and Daemon, cheeks full as Daemon dropped a thick blanket down where you sat you sat in already a pile of thick furry blankets.

“What’s going on?” Rhaenyra asked, petting your hair and looking at Daemon in a questioning manner.

“I wanna know if dragons were real,” you looked up at Rhaenyra, hope glimmering all over your eyes, a childish dream come true. She looked to Daemon with an odd expression before pointing at a cabinet by the window.

A temperature controlled cabinet with four eggs each on its five shelves, they were the biggest eggs you had seen. You crawled up to go look at them through the glass, eggs of red, purple, white and green. Mouth gaped upon in shock, immortal royalty was cool but this— you could scream from the excitement bubbling in you chest. A wide grin spread across your face as you turned to look at them.

“Silverwing was real!” You chuckled in shock, leg bouncing as the happiness radiated off of you “you rode dragons!” You pointed at them as you waddled over to settle yourself on Rhaenyra’s lap.

“Do you know which ones?” Daemon asked, the ends of his mouth slightly curled upwards. This is the liveliest they had seen you since the party.

You nodded like a teacher’s pet, answering correctly for a piece of candy. “You rode Syrax,” you curled further into Rhaenyra as she kissed your temple. “And you rode the red wormy thing,” you snapped your fingers in the air to try and remember it’s name.

“Red wormy thing,” Daemon repeated, highly amused that Caraxes’s memory would be watered down to a red wormy dragon from the furious behemoth he was.

“Yeah,” you mellowed, still unable to remember his name “he had a wormy neck and a deviated septum, like me.” you told them as if they wouldn’t know.

You looked to Daemon apologetically “but you already knew that…since you know. You rode him.”

“Caraxes,” he helped you “and I do agree, he was a Wyrm.”

“Damn,” you whispered under your breath “so you just had flying nukes for pets. That’s crazy.” 

You settled in with them, still blurting out questions as they came to mind. No history textbook or books you found at libraries had this much details about the subject, the world still counted it’s years from Aegon’s Conquest but they were gods, myths and statues rooted at temples. They were real, tangible blood, you were sitting on one right now.

“If they hatch, what would you do? Over throw the government?” you mused “we could use a Queen, maybe get better healthcare, climate change sanctions, and an extra government holiday.”

This time Rhaenyra chuckled, shaking her head. They had thought of it, though Rhaenyra had given up on any hope of those eggs ever hatching. The last of blood magic destroyed taking down the Night King other than what created their immortality.

“We could go back to Dragonstone, preserve their kind this time around.” Rhaenyra said, pulling the blanket up your shoulders. You hummed as a reply, resting your head on her shoulder.

“Nyra.” You whispered. Rhaenyra hummed in reply. “Has my mother checked in?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes scrunched as she looked to Daemon and then down at you. She shook her head, after leaving a very colourful message on your phone after Rhaenyra had texted as you; about going away on a vacation. There was nothing. As a mother she once was, she never understood the callousness of mothers these days, having children move out of their homes and pay rent.

You closed you eyes, body already heavy from the story filled daze you were in. That and the hearth lulling you, you held no expectation that your mother would mildly care, if Daemon and Rhaenyra were to have killed you. You doubted she would have even noticed.

Just as Rhaenyra and Daemon had just each other, the possibility of you having just them grew each day.

Thank you for reading!! I’m having so much fun with this AU.

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Also lemme know if you wanna be added to a Taglist

[glorismorningstar]

THE LION CHRONICLES

Pairings: fatherfigure!Alastor x f!reader, Charlie x bodyguard!reader, Vaggie x reader, situationship!Carmilla Carmine x reader

Summary: The group is hesitant when a certain serpent-like threat returns to the Hotel for the third time to ask for redemption. Y/N begins to accept that Carmilla is the one she's with and grows more comfortable in the relationship.

Warnings: WLW, mentions of sex, aftercare, nostalgia, canon-typical violence, Alastor being Alastor, betrayal

A/N: damn this part sucks so bad in comparison to the others, but I have to keep it going, and the next few parts are gonna get so much saucier >:))

| PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 |

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“What was up with you last night, corazòn?” Carmilla purred from beside me, soft lips skimming over my shoulder with appreciative pecks. “You didn't want to come over, I got a little worried.”

“It's no big deal, I just had a lot on my mind.” I sighed softly, carding my fingers through her white and black strands of hair. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“Not really,” I replied, guilty about keeping her in the dark. As much as our relationship was casual and mainly carnal, I did care about Carmilla, and I wanted to tell her everything about my sisters, my status and Lute, but I always ended up deciding against it. Alastor said it was better for my safety to keep it a secret. “Now's not the time to think about it. Tell me about your day.”

“Ugh, Vox canceled on me today again.” She groaned in frustration, which drew an eye roll from me. Nepotism ran rampant among the Overlords, that was how I'd met Carmilla and all the other Overlords. Months before Alastor's sabbatical, he had asked me to attend meetings with him enough times to get me used to going there. Gradually, he began to skip meetings more often, which resulted in me filling in for him for the last seven years. His one-sided homoerotic rivalry with that bonehead Vox, and incidentally the other Vees, had also been passed on to me. Well, not so much the rivalry itself as the general distaste and animosity for them.

“Again?” I huffed, shifting on my side to face her. I brushed my fingertips along her bare arm, tracing imaginary patterns on her skin.

The gesture made her relax, the annoyance with Vox melting away. “Yeah. But it's just as well, at least we got to make up for last night.”

“Mhm, you're right.” I chuckled, brushing her hair away from her neck to expose the fresh love bites littering her gray skin. The way they bloomed so easily on her pale complexion reminded me of-

No. Enough. I hadn't seen Lute in twenty-seven years, and she either thought me dead, a deserter or a traitor. Even if I could get a chance to see her again, the odds of her wanting me back were far too slim.

Get out of my head, I groan internally. You're in bed naked with another woman. Stop it.

“So, how are the girls?” I cleared my throat, shaking the previous thoughts out of my head.

“Actually, they've been asking about you.” She hummed. 

“They have?” Her daughters knew about our little affair, as they had seen me sneaking out multiple times before. Before becoming involved with Carmilla, I'd met Clara and Odette at the meetings, they'd accompany her just as I did Alastor. They seemed quite fond of me, and I found it adorable that Carmilla named them after ballet characters. I wanted to protect all three of them, it finally felt like having a family again, but seeing Lute again…

Ugh, what's the point? I'd never get back to Heaven again. I needed to care about the family I had to protect now, situationship or not.

“Yeah. They said they'll keep you if I will.” She chuckled, gazing at me with something beyond simple care in her eyes. Damn it.

“They really said that?” I laughed softly, endeared. 

“Yeah.” She said, nuzzling her nose into my neck. My hand buried itself in her hair, stroking through the silky white and black locks that flopped over her forehead. Carmilla was a single mother and extremely busy. Even if Clara and Odette weren't children, they needed to be maintained. It's not like they had money problems, but if either of them ever wanted to go on their own path, they'd need support in any way they could. The way they had so much faith in me made me feel responsible for them. 

I made up my mind. If Carmilla decided to ask me out on a proper date, I'd say yes.

“In fact, I've been thinking-” My ringtone cut her off, which made me curse under my breath and peer over my shoulder to see who was calling. Vaggie. Fuck. She hung up and a message appeared on the screen:

SOS, Pentious is back at the hotel

18:37

“Son of a bitch.” I mumbled, running a hand through the single tuft of golden mane atop my head. 

“What- what's going on?” She stuttered, sitting up on her elbows to gaze at me with a little nervousness in her gaze.

“Some buffoon who attacked this morning is back at the hotel. I have to deal with this,” I huffed and sat up, gathering my clothes from the insane spots they had ended up in. “I'll make this up to you, I promise.”

I pulled my purple striped jacket on and buttoned it up, then bent down to plant a long, passionate kiss on her lips, thumb rubbing her cheekbone with care. I smiled at her and pressed another kiss to her forehead, which drew another smile from her. “Bye, cielo.” 

“Bye, corazòn. Text me when you're safe.”

I nodded at her and ran a hand through my mane to fix it, then blew her another kiss and walked out the door, running down the stairs and towards the hotel as fast as possible.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

I reached the hotel and spotted a flash of gray and yellow walking inside, recognizing it as Pentious, which drew a low growl from my throat. My claws protracted with a small shink noise and I stalked after him without a sound, tail swaying side to side for balance as I prepared to pounce- “Change of plans, he's staying.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“He says he wants to try redemption.” Vaggie explained with a look of dismay.

“But he attacked us just this morning, how is that not a trick?” I gritted, ears perking up at  each of his hisses with great irritation. 

“It is, but the point here is to give people second chances,” she sighed, looking at Charlie as she showed him around the hotel. “Just keep your eyes open. Don't leave her side, especially not when he's around.”

“Alright.” I mumbled and followed after them, eyes already supervising his each and every move like a hawk. I let out a silent huff. I couldn't believe that I had to leave Carmilla alone after sex to put up with a nutbag and a golden retriever’s poor judgment.

“What are you booing about? Taco booty call got cut off?” Angel asked sleazily, elbowing me in the side with two arms.

“How many minorities can you offend in a single breath?” I replied with a roll of my eyes, crossing my arms as I followed after Charlie, not drawing my gaze from her and Pentious.

“If that pisses you off, you should watch the Olympics with me.”

I sighed in exasperation and trailed after them, ears twitching atop my head as I listened to their conversation, “-and this is the new wall after you broke the last one, heh, and- oh! This, this is-”

“Babe, you don’t have to show him every detail.”

“Sorry, I’m just so excited to have our first real guest!”

Right. A hissy man child who destroyed one of our walls and came back six hours later to request sanctuary. There’s no way this could end badly.

“What the hell am I then?” Angel asked, offended.

“A spider that lives here rent free.” I replied promptly, tail curling around my leg as I moved my gaze back to Pentious, as ordered.

“Well, you’re an important part of our family here, Angel, but you, um…”

“Constantly make us look bad, sexually harass the staff and have literally never once tried to improve?”

“Correct.” I affirmed, having nothing more to add to the list.

“What they mean is, it’s nice to have someone interested for once.” Charlie rephrased in a misguided attempt to soften Vaggie’s true words. “Over here, we have Nifty!”

“The bad boy is back!” The little lady exclaimed, crawling up Pentious’ upper body and clinging to his shoulders with a creepy whisper, “Never leave me again.”

“Don’t mind her, we’re about eighty percent sure she’s harmless.” I said, coming up behind him and standing over at Charlie’s side, giving him a death glare that ensured that Nifty was harmless, but I sure wasn’t.

“And over here, we have-”

Oh, boy, here we go.

There stood Alastor, with his questionable posture, his signature grin and his hands resting home on his lower back. I rolled my eyes fondly and watched the scene unfold with amusement, as Pentious had ripped his coat earlier today.

“-oh, uh, Alastor, our gracious facility manager! You’ve met our newest guest, Sir Pentious… heh, heh.” Charlie chuckled nervously as Pentious gave an awkward wave.

“Ah, yes, you’re the one that ruined my coat,” said Alastor, drawing another eye roll from me. And so it begins. “I definitely remember you now.”

They're cute when they're about to wet themselves. I cringed while Pentious swallowed thickly and Charlie's expression grew into a concerned one and she scrambled to salvage the situation. “Well, I guess this is a great time for your first lesson-”

She cleared her throat and I smirked, leaning against the railing of the stairs as I observed the princess mediating the two petty, petty men. “-how to apologize. The first step to becoming a better person is to admit when you are wrong. Why don't you give it a try?”

Charlie pushed Pentious forward and Alastor kept staring at him with his scary-ass smile, while the snake man smiled awkwardly and tried his best to apologize. “Yes, um… Mr., um, Radio Demon, sir, please forgive me for attacking you and ruining your very lovely coat… um, here…”

He pulled a chunk of red fabric from his pocket and handed it to Al, obviously thinking it was a good idea. I snickered under my breath and pretended to rub my jaw to cover it up, watching the scene with great amusement. “Oh-ho, not many people have been able to take even this much off me! It must have meant quite a lot to you.” 

After putting on a look of faux empathy, he set the fabric on fire, green flames wrapping the material in a tiny blaze as he held it between his red gloved fingertips. I pursed my lips tightly to keep any comments or laughter at bay while the other two stared at the flames with concern.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Now, with a new resident, I think it's important that we all get to know each other, so we are going to play a little game. Everyone, follow me,” Charlie began, then cleared her throat softly and sang, “My name is Charlie - clap, clap - I like to sing - clap, clap - and when we get to know each other, it's the greatest thing - clap, clap.”

She then pointed at me, who sat beside her, and I stumbled over my words, scrambling in my mind for any good ideas for the improv. “Uh, my name is Y/N - clap, clap - I like to draw - clap, clap - and when I'm in difficult endeavors I try not to use my claws - clap, clap.” I pointed at Pentious with an expectant look, still distrusting of him. 

“My name's Sir Pentious - clap, clap - I like to build - clap, clap - and despite my stupid Egg Bois, I think I'm very skilled - clap, clap.” The three of us looked at Angel, the one that was left to play the game. 

He boredly looked up from his phone and grumbled, “This is stupid.”

“This is not stupid - clap, clap - it's just the game - clap, clap - Y/N and Sir Pentious did it well, so now please try to do the same - clap, clap.” Charlie sang, hoping to keep this from falling apart. Angel was never particularly interested in redemption itself, maybe it was the free room and food, because, and I quote, crack is expensive.

“I'm too sober for this.” He complained, rubbing his face with one of his hands.

“Well, get used to it and learn how to play,” I began, which Vaggie finished with, “This is gonna be your whole day - clap, clap.”

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

This was hilarious.

I had to purse my lips to keep from laughing because this is the best thing I've ever seen since Alastor's commercial. Angel was wearing a trench coat and a hat and roleplaying a crack dealer, while Pentious was wearing white and eating a lollipop. Oh, if only I could get this on video.

“Oh, I'm a bad man on the streets who never got enough hugs. Now where's an innocent kid I can sell crack to?” Angel read. My God, the script was garbage, but it's so garbage that it's actually good. “Wow! Who wrote this?”

“It's great, right?” Of course it was Charlie. 

“I'm telling you, you're no Homer, but it's really funny.” I snickered, drawing my bottom lip between my teeth and rubbing my jaw to hide the chuckles escaping my mouth. My phone pinged in my pocket and I took it out, seeing the notification from Carmilla. Damn it, I forgot to text her.

Are you alright corazón?

22:37

Are you safe? 

22:37

Hey <3

22:37

Yeah, sorry I forgot to text you earlier

22:38

Everything's fine, it was just a false alarm

22:38

What happened?

22:38

I'll call you later and tell you all about it, okay?

22:38

I have a little thing to finish up right now

22:39

Okay, have fun

22:39

Bye amorcito <3

22:39 

Bye <3

22:40

“The only cool thing here is to say no to drugs,” Pentious recited with a proud smile. I still didn't trust him, but at least he seems to be trying. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to not have sexual intercourse before marriage!”

“Yes! Oh, bravo!” Charlie cheered. 

“Nah, no one in Heaven cares about that, anyway.” I said carelessly, which caused Alastor's radio filter to static for a brief moment. Damn it. 

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah, think about it. Adam's in charge and he's probably had sex with half womankind.” I replied, my heart and stomach deflating with relief at my last ditch salvation. I couldn't believe I was about to spill my biggest secret out of a dumb comment. 

“Yeah, she's got a point. The guy spent half the meeting talking about some girl he scored with.” Charlie complained, which drew a humorless chuckle from me.

While Charlie praised Pentious for his performance, I noticed Angel Dust walking up the stairs with a weird look on his face. He usually kept up this act of being horny all the time, now it's just… gone. A small confused frown settled on my lips before I walked to my room, excited to call Carmilla.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Loud crashing and arguing roused me from my sleep. I opened my eyes and yawned, ears twitching towards the sounds below. It's like one in the morning, what in Heaven's name is up with these people?

With a groggy whine, I got up from my plush mattress and waddled down the stairs, following Charlie and Vaggie to the library with half-lidded eyes. I pushed the door open and saw Angel glaring at Sir Pentious, which made me tense in alert and my tail stiffen. I had a bad feeling about this.

“What's going on?” Charlie yawned.

Angel, with a grip on Pentious’ arm and an angry expression, gritted out, “This little bitch is a traitor!”

His words made me frown and I glared at the snake as well, claws protracting out of instinct as I awaited any confirmation. I knew there was no way he could change his mind in the span of six hours, I should never have let this happen. “Preposterous! I would never betray you. You are my best friends!"

I moved out of the way when he hugged Charlie and Vaggie, a grumble of apprehension and distrust falling from my lips. “Uh-huh, then explain this.” Angel pulled a book aside and uncovered a camera. I recognized it as a VoxTek device from the vibrant blue static line on the side, to which I bared my fangs and a low growl rumbled from my throat.

“You dirty little liar.” I hissed and took a step forward while Pentious scrambled to the window and pleaded for evacuation. Vox answered the phone and I trotted forward, standing just behind Pentious in case he had to be stopped.

“I can't believe we thought you could handle even something this simple,” Vox patronized. I should have known. I did know. I should have stopped it while I had the chance, I knew I shouldn't have let him in. “Do us a favor, if they don't kill you, go ahead and do it yourself, you miserable failure!”

My ears drooped and my lips morphed into a frown. That was really over the line, even for a back-stabber. I saw how the tears beaded up in the corners of his eyes and he lost hope, which made my heart hurt a little. He walked over to us and lied down on the ground, “Just make it quick, I guess… not that I deserve it.”

“Gladly.” Vaggie said and approached him with her spear, which made me hold out a hand in front of her to stop her.

“No, don't.”

“Pentious?” Charlie approached the snake curled up on the ground and extended a hand to him with a kind smile.

♪ It starts with sorry

I saw how he blinked with confusion when she chose to spare him, and to help him, no less. I watched with a soft tilt of my head and a little smile as she helped him up and encouraged him.

♪ That's your foot in the door

One simple sorry

Charlie touched a hand to his chest, which made him look at her with a different look, almost one of surprise.

♪ The path to forgiveness is a twisting trail of hearts

But sorry is where it starts

Pentious shook his head and stepped aside, dejected and unconvinced. 

♪ Who could forgive a dirtbag like me?

I don't deserve your amnesty

♪ Can't we just kill him? 

Shoot him and spill his blood?

Angel and Vaggie piled on, backing him into a shelf with their respective weapons, the spear and the machine guns. I walked to stand in front of Sir Pentious to keep them from harming him and sing,

♪ That's an option you could choose

♪ Works for us

♪ But who hasn't been in his shoes? 

Charlie joined in with me at the next verse, once again extending her hand, and this time he took it, dancing along with her.

♪ It starts with sorry

♪ Sorry

♪ Dig down deeper and say one sincere sorry

♪ I'm so sorry

Pentious said dramatically but from the heart and dipped into our arms, which drew a smile from me and I pushed him back up to encourage him to keep going. Vaggie and Angel still looked skeptical, but to me it seemed honest.

♪ And your journey's under way

♪ It'll take time to cover your vast multitude of sins

But sorry is where it begins

It starts with sorry

Nifty walked in in a little pink nightgown, standing at the door with a pout. “I hated that song! Why are you so lame? Not a bad boy!” She gave him a little kick and stomped away and I laughed, patting him on the back and shaking my head fondly.

“Good first day,” Charlie sighed and walked out with Vaggie's arm around her waist, Angel following suit. “Let's get some rest.”

I chuckled softly and rested a hand on his shoulder, offering him a kind smile. “Welcome, new guy.”

He smiled back and nodded gratefully, then we walked along all together to our rooms. Before leaving the hallway, I heard Alastor's voice ringing out and Vox raging on the device, followed by Alastor's cackle. A smirk of satisfaction adorned my lips and my tail curled mischievously behind me as I walked away, satisfied with the Vees’ failure.

As long as they stayed away from my home, I'd be happy. 

[gregorovitch-adler]

My thoughts about The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes:

Let's start by summarising the movie -

No crime-solving happens in the first 34 minutes. The first act is all about Holmes and Watson's dynamic, exploration of the nature of their relationship with each other, etc. If you're the type of person who only watches/reads Sherlock Holmes for the cases, you'd believe this portion is skippable. Only the blink-and-miss detail about the "Midgets' case" is important as far as Holmes' detective work is concerned.

However, if you think exploring Holmes and Watson's interpersonal relationship and their casework are both equally important, like I do, the first act is GOLD. Most of the Tumblr gifs about this movie are from the first 30-35 mins lol.

1.) Holmes enters and they bicker like an old, married couple.

H: Oh, come now, Watson, you must admit that you have a tendency to overromanticize. You have taken my simple exercises in logic and embellished them, embroidered them, exaggerated them ---

W: I deny the accusation.

H: You have described me as six-footfour, whereas I am barely six-footone.

W: A bit of poetic license.

Not only is this whole scene just delightful in general but the theory about Watson being an unreliable narrator in ACD canon is actually being supported throughout the movie, starting right here.

--

W:It's those little touches that make you colorful...

H: Lurid is more like it. You have painted me as a hopeless dope addict - just because I occasionally take a five per cent solution of cocaine.

W: A seven per cent solution.

H: Five per cent. Don't you think I'm aware you've been diluting it behind my back?

This exchange was lovely. Way to slip in their closeness through a few words.

2.) Watson doesn't think it's odd to barge right in when Holmes is completely naked and taking a bath?

Also, why the hell does Holmes bathe with his bedroom door wide open?

And what's that thing he's taking a bath in called? Does anyone know about this stuff? Was this thing common in that timeline? It doesn't seem to fit a grown man like Holmes.

I have so many questions and I'm speechless at the same time. I'll just drop this here:

3.) Then Watson persuades Holmes to go to The Swan Lake ballet.

Watson enjoys that ballet, a little too much at that, mostly because he's staring at all the women on stage. (We'll get back to this later.)

Holmes on the other hand has dozed off. All he can admire about the most beautiful dancer, Petrova, is her strong arches. Which is... 🏳‍🌈

Then that whole scene about Nicholai and Petrova and Holmes in the dressing room. XD

Petrova offers a Stradivarius violin to Holmes in exchange for sleeping with her for a week, so that her child would be beautiful like her and brilliant like Holmes.

Holmes gets out of the situation by lying to both of them; saying he's in a relationship with Watson.

Honestly, that whole bit. Just look at the lines:

N: She has been dancing since she was three years old, and after all, she is now thirty-eight.

H: (gallantly) I must say she doesn't look thirty-eight.

N: That is because she is forty-six.

And:

Nicholai: (about Tolstoy) Too old --- Then we considered the philosopher, Nietzsche --

H: Absolutely first-rate mind ---

N: Too German --

Etc. They're all so funny. This whole scene is something else.

In fairness to Holmes, he did try to get himself out of the situation by lying about having hemophilia in his family, or saying that he's unromantic because he's English, etc but Petrova was having none of it.

Watson coming into the room all of a sudden gives so much clarity and calmness to Holmes. He just knows what to say to help himself because of Watson.

This unforgettable exchange:

N: You mean, you and Dr. Watson - He is your glass of tea?

H: If you want to be picturesque about it.

On a side note, I absolutely loved Nicholai's face journey throughout both scenes - in the dressing room, stuck in the middle of Holmes and Petrova's awkwardness, and later on when he asks about the alleged Holmes-Watson romance to Watson after having spread the rumour in the whole room.

I just loved his reactions a lot.

According to this movie-

Caprice of Mother Nature = Gay.

Half-and-half = Bisexual.

Watson comes to know about the rumour, after having had the time of his life with both men and women in the ballroom. Watson is pissed off, he goes home and confronts about the whole thing to Holmes.

They have a row at Baker Street, in which Watson is being extremely heteronormative again. Thinking too much about his reputation without stopping to question his own feelings and his weird fixation on Holmes' love life.

There's that famous line again:

W: Holmes, let me ask you a question. I hope I'm not being presumptuous -but there have been women in your life?

H: The answer is yes -- you're being presumptuous. Good night.

Awesome.

This marks the end of Act I.

The existence of these 33 minutes of the movie is proof that the writing team in this adaptation knows that exploring Holmes and Watson's characters and what they mean to each other is as important as Holmes' casework. Billy Wilder takes this seriously, even though there are some jokes here and there about it.

The whole of Act I is filled with raising questions about Holmes and Watson's preferences, etc. Does Holmes feel love or is he just a machine? Does Holmes feel love for Watson? Does Watson know about Holmes' feelings for him? Does Watson feel the same way about Holmes?

In my opinion, all the answers to the personal questions about Holmes are as clear as a day. What's really questionable is whether Watson knows and/or feels the same way about Holmes or not. Different viewers might draw different conclusions/inferences after watching this movie.

After this, the movie takes a turn because "Gabrielle" enters the picture, and the actual crime-solving begins from here. The tone becomes a bit more serious in this act.

A young woman, completely wet and in shock enters 221 B. Watson has to pay for her fare to the cabbie before he and Holmes take her upstairs to take care of her.

She can't remember anything at first, then from her wedding ring, Holmes gets to know her name: Gabrielle Valladon. Her husband's name is Emile Valladon.

She appears to have temporary amnesia because of getting hit on the forehead and almost drowning in the Thames.

She reveals info about herself that she's from Belgium, her husband was here in London for a job, they used to write to each other, and after some time, the letters from her husband stopped coming. She'd gone to the London police first after coming to this city. She says the police had advised her to consult Sherlock Holmes.

Now, this should make the viewer skeptical of her. Scotland Yard does consult Sherlock Holmes when they need him, but they aren't going to let him have the whole case if there's a situation like this.

Besides, that woman ending up at Baker Street specifically seems to be planned, anyway. Also, there's always this man who keeps waiting for her or someone else's signals on the outside.

I know what we see on screen comes from Watson's drafts on loose pages, but this movie's narration seems to be Third Person Omniscient POV to me. Where the viewer is privy to more information as compared to the characters.

The three of them keep looking for her husband's whereabouts, and she pretends to be helpless, needy, and fragile (to stroke the ego of the men around her, I believe. I mean that could be one of the reasons...) with temporary amnesia throughout most of the movie. Holmes and Watson don't suspect a thing about her as they keep working for her and she keeps sending cryptic messages to the "Trappists" (German government) with her parasol.

The thing I love about this act:

Ilse von Hofmannsthal aka Gabrielle Valladon is actually a competent character who happens to be a woman. We can see something shady is going on with her even though we don't know her real name, but one of the most brilliant people on the planet doesn't suspect anything. He thinks she's just a woman looking for her husband's whereabouts. He thinks her back story is real.

He keeps on thinking that until Mycroft basically tells him in the third act which is why we're able to see for ourselves that Ilse was genuinely able to outsmart Holmes. We don't have to be told by the narrative voice about Ilse's strengths (*cough* unlike BBC Sherlock and a lot of female characters written by Steven Moffat *cough*).

I, for one, felt respectful of Ilse or "Gabrielle" for real. It was quite refreshing to me after having watched some modern Holmes adaptations.

Holmes, Watson, and "Gabrielle" go looking for the cause of Emile Valladon's death after they've found his coffin in the graveyard, in the guise of having a picnic. Holmes and "Gabrielle" pretend to be a married couple - Mrs and Mr Ashdown, and Watson is their valet. The scenes after this point are delightful mainly because of Watson's reactions (which could be read as his jealousy over Holmes, too).

Also, me when Holmes calls Watson 'John' in an archaic Holmes adaptation:

Because of his sort of stupidity, Holmes takes Ilse, a German spy, right in front of the submersible (which he thinks is a mechanical 'monster' that lives underwater) in a boat, along with Watson.

Ilse was trying to grab as much information as she could about that secret project because she was working for her country. Who knew someone would show her the live version of that model so readily (albeit unknowingly)? :P

The three of them are obviously unable to find anything about Emile Valladon, so they go back to the inn room they're staying in.

That's when one of Mycroft's men comes to pick Holmes up and take him to his elder brother. Here's when the third act begins, I think.

Mycroft had warned Sherlock not to pursue "Gabrielle's" case any further during the second act. But Sherlock didn't listen, because a.) he's an empathetic man, and b.) Mycroft can't just order him to do or drop something just because. Sherlock is not a child anymore.

I know Mycroft was only trying to protect Sherlock, and that he couldn't have told him the real reason to stop him at that time, but still.

Either way, months of planning and testing the submersible have gone to waste because Holmes did not suspect at any point that his client, "Gabrielle Valladon" might have just been lying to him since the start. Can't blame Holmes for that. Ilse was meticulous.

Mycroft shows the model to the queen and she strongly disapproves of the model and curses it a lot. Personally, this seemed to be a shitty decision on her part, and I felt so frustrated and annoyed at her in that scene. She didn't even care to hear about its features. She just rejected it on the spot! :(

Mycroft decides to 'give the submarine' to the German government. It's implied that the Trappists were drowned along with the submarine itself in the deep waters. (That's what I gathered from that scene - correct me if my interpretation was wrong).

In conclusion, while Ilse is genuinely able to outsmart Holmes (unlike some writers forcing us to believe it in their adaptation because they told us so), the German government isn't able to go anywhere with the info they've gathered through Ilse because of Mycroft's last move. Moreover, the English government would have sent her to jail, if Sherlock hadn't suggested Mycroft send her back to her own country.

So, in the end, it's a lose-lose situation for all of them.

1.) Sherlock Holmes didn't know that Ilse was faking her name and her whole identity for a long time, so he unknowingly helped a German spy, thinking he was just helping an ordinary client. Ilse almost had him and the viewers could see for themselves that she'd outsmarted him.

2.) Even after Ilse von Hofmannsthal has got what she wanted for her government, as a spy, they aren't able to make use of that info because of Mycroft. And she has to get out of England anyway.

3.) Mycroft Holmes also fails, to some extent, because ages of effort to plan the submersible, hide the plans, and test the model in secret - all of it has gone to waste. The queen doesn't even want to hear him out in the end.

But even if it was a lose-lose situation, the battle was damn intriguing because of the high intellect on both sides - Holmes brothers and Ilse.

Months later, Holmes receives a letter from Mycroft about Ilse's arrest and execution by the Japanese government. Reading that, he's so moved that he can't even finish his breakfast. He gets up and asks Watson for his cocaine supply. Watson tells him, and then Holmes grabs the bag and goes to his room. Holmes shuts himself in, Watson gets up from the breakfast table too, sits beside the fireplace, and begins to write something on a piece of paper. Probably about the case, but for nobody to see.

End of Act III and the movie.

--

I loved the background score of this movie. It's quite touching and refreshing to listen to.

A lot of dialogue exchanges in the movie are so deep if you stop to think about them. It's unbelievable how much writers can convey through a few words. Some of them are quite funny too - particularly from Act I. There's a thin line between being funny and mocking, and TPLOSH didn't cross that. It was nice.

I love this portrayal of Sherlock Holmes. It's clear how deeply they've understood him from the original canon. Pretends to be dismissive and closed off but actually cares about everyone way too much.

I also liked Mycroft in this movie, even if he didn't have much screen time.

About Ilse von Hofmannsthal - I loved her. Seriously, this is how you write female characters, modern writers! People say ASIB is a direct adaptation of TPLOSH, which is true, but I'd prefer TPLOSH over that episode any day, and one of the reasons is the way the female lead has been written in the former. Not exactly a fan of how Moffat wrote her in his adaptation. He did her dirty, I'd say.

Characters like Ilse make me think that the writing team of this movie knew what feminism is. I can't say the same for the modern Holmes adaptation that has been heavily inspired by TPLOSH.

I loved the plot of this movie too. The case in itself was also pretty interesting and kept me hooked throughout. Even if it wasn't exactly resolved finally, and the ending was melancholic.

I wasn't expecting the movie to be this good. Which is why it took me so long to sit down and watch it.

I only have one complaint about this movie - Watson's characterisation.

I mean, Watson wasn't half as bad as I'd expected (I thought he was going to be horrible, based on the snippets of the movie I'd seen before), but still. I like how he doesn't fall into the bumbling idiot stereotype. As far as the casework is concerned, Watson is also quite competent and observant in his own right. He can handle the medical work too.

I've got problems with his heteronormativity, and the fact that when it comes to deducing what lies in Holmes' heart, he's dumb as bricks. It's annoying. Like, it's one thing if he doesn't feel the same way about Holmes, but he doesn't have to be so weird and homophobic about it. Also, I think Holmes should've told him about the truth related to Ilse and the 'mechanical monster'. I've had enough of 'keeping Watson in the dark for his own good', damn it! He should be more in the knowledge.

Watson's character was the only element in the movie that didn't receive justice from the writer. As a Watson-centric fan, I need this to stop happening in future Holmes adaptations. People should see more from his POV too, and stop to actually see where he's coming from, and properly understand his character in the next show/movie/whatever they make.

What I gathered from the movie about the characters and their interpersonal relationships-

Holmes is in love with Watson but doesn't admit it... for valid reasons this time. (side eyes at Watson's homophobia).

Watson is deeply attached to Holmes but sees him as a close friend. I wish he felt the same way about Holmes in this movie, but alas! Though if he doesn't feel that way about Holmes, why the hell does he seem so jealous of Ilse in Acts II and III? This is beyond me.

I think what they've tried to show is that Watson is too close-minded to confront his possibly repressed feelings for Holmes, deep within his heart? Maybe. It could very well be my wishful thinking lol.

But as far as Holmes' feelings for Watson are concerned, it's not even wishful thinking. It's just... right there. I wish the subtext about Holmes' pining were spelled out. I know why it couldn't (the Doyle estate was being a pain in the ass at that time), but still. It's quite clear what they wanted to write as far as Holmes' emotional side was concerned, but they dropped it from the scripts after Act I and decided to focus on the case instead.

Holmes is dismissive of 'Gabrielle' at first, but he becomes sympathetic for her after some time. He reaches out to help her with her situation, and as the plot moves forward, he grows affectionate for Gabrielle/Ilse, which is why he doesn't hold a grudge against her when he realises he's been outsmarted by this woman (even though his ego was mildly hurt for a while).

The way they maintained a balance between the plot and the characters is commendable. I love seeing well-written women in fiction and this movie showed me that.

I was surprised to see how good this movie turned out to be, as compared to my preconceived opinions. The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes has officially become my comfort movie now. Miles ahead of BBC Sherlock, in my opinion.

Thanks to my discussions with @jamielovesjam in a previous post about this movie lol. I wouldn't have wanted to watch the movie if not for the long talk I had with them. Also tagging @gaypiningshit and @helloliriels for further discussion.

End of my unnecessarily long rambling.

[pulisicsgirl]

holding us together - christian pulisic

summary: when the flu tears its way through Y/N and Christian's tiny little family, she alone is left to make sure everyone is taken care of, but it all gets a bit overwhelming, and Christian is there to take over when Y/N needs him the most; sickly sweet domestic fluff, a little bit of angst, mentions of illness and mom guilt, and a couple time skips (but i was already at 5k, so.... i kinda had to)

pairing: dad!Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 5.0k (i may have gotten a little carried away)

notes: here's the dad!Christian fic that I've been working on! I'm so glad it's finally finished-- I've been thinking about it non-stop for the last like week and a half (the baby fever has been bad recently... 😬). I don't really love the ending, so sorry about that. Please let me know what you think of it! &lt;3

Your feet padded softly against the carpet as you walked into your bedroom as quietly as you could manage. The large cup of steaming tea was balanced carefully in your hand as you tried your best not to disturb the lump of covers on the bed that you knew to be your husband—at least until you had to.

You approached the table on his side of the bed, setting the cup down carefully and reaching to pull back the comforter. There you found Christian, not fully asleep, but not fully awake either. He blinked slowly at you, slightly scrunching his bright red nose as he squinted his eyes at the sudden invasion of light.

“Here, baby, I brought you some hot tea. It should help your throat.” You reached toward his face to brush a couple of curls off of his forehead and his eyes closed briefly, humming at the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. You continued the motion for a few moments, hoping to bring him relief in any small way that you could. “Chris?” you tried to get his attention again, and his eyes snapped open once more, as if he had forgotten you were standing there in front of him.

He sat up, scooting so that he could rest with his back against the headboard of the bed, grunting as he did so. “Mm, thank you,”  he said hoarsely as you handed him the cup, and you internally cringed at how painful his voice sounded.

You leaned down, pressing a short kiss to his forehead, and you immediately noticed how warm he was when your lips touched his slightly clammy skin. You made a mental note to grab his medicine before you returned to the room.

You hated seeing Christian sick. It didn’t happen often, but it seemed that when he did get sick, he got it bad. Currently, the flu was tearing it’s way through your little household, starting with your eldest daughter Lily. Your best guess was that the sweet three-year-old had picked it up from one of the other kids in her ballet class, as much as she loved to hug on her friends. Regardless of how or where she had gotten the bug, it hadn’t taken long for her to be congested, coughing, and running a fever. It practically sprang up overnight and Christian had picked it up from her in no time. As you had been trying to take care of the two of them, to your horror, your seven-month-old son, Oliver had started coughing, and soon, you were stuck looking on as the three people you loved more than anything else suffered through the same illness at the same time. You felt helpless, doing whatever little things you could to relieve them—making sure to keep up with meds and providing lots of cuddles when necessary (to both the kids and Christian).

Lily was thankfully already starting to pull through to the other side of the bug—you could tell she had a lot more energy this afternoon as she sat on her bedroom floor, playing quietly with her toys, instead of lying miserably on the couch, watching whatever princess movie you turned on for her. Oliver was still pretty much in the thick of it, crying almost constantly and sleeping only in short spurts—you were having trouble getting him to eat much of anything, as well.

Christian had definitely gotten the worst case of it though. He had spent the last two days lying lifelessly in the bed, drifting in and out of sleep. He had forced himself to eat the soups you had brought him for lunch and dinner, unable to stomach much else. He was sure to make his best attempt at telling you how thankful he was for you taking care of him, but with his sickly, fogged brain, he wasn’t even entirely sure how well that came across.

“Drink that. I’ll be back with some medicine—your fever has come back,” you spoke softly, brushing your fingers through Christian’s hair one last time as he took another sip of the tea, humming in response. You double-checked that he still had a full box of tissues and that the trash can was close enough to the bed before you left his side.

As you walked into the hallway, headed to the kitchen to collect the medicine, you heard Oliver’s cries coming from his room down the hallway. Sighing, you took a detour into his room, walking softly over to the side of his crib as his cries continued to pierce the air.

Your chest tightened with despair as you looked down at your son for a moment before picking him up. You weren’t sure what else you could do to help him. You had already called your mother in tears earlier in the day, asking for her advice on how to help your two sick babies and sick husband, but as far away as she lived, there was only so much she could do for you. No matter how hard you tried, you didn’t seem to have that “motherly touch” that she had always shown when taking care of you when you had fallen sick while growing up.

You picked him up, cradling the boy gently in your arms as you rested his head on your shoulder, bouncing slowly to calm him. His cries mostly died down, reduced to cooing and soft whimpers as he rubbed his face in your neck. Holding him seemed to be the only thing that soothed him while he was awake. You had even tried using some “essential oils” your mother had told you about, spreading some on his chest. You weren’t really sure how much you thought they actually did, but you were willing to try anything at this point.

Deciding to bring Oliver with you now that he was awake, you walked steadily toward the kitchen, slowly swaying side-to-side as you went in order to keep him calm. You stopped briefly at Lily's door to check on her as you passed by. All you could see from the doorway were her soft curls spread over the pillow, and you noted the soft rise and fall of the comforter as she slept peacefully.

Once you had reached the kitchen, you opened the cabinet door, sorting through the shelf that had been dedicated to the various medicines that you kept on hand for times like these to find the Tylenol before you walked back to your bedroom. You spoke softly to Oliver as you did so, hoping your voice would lull him back into a peaceful sleep. “Gotta get some medicine for daddy so he can start feeling better. Right, sweet boy?” you cooed at him. “Yes, that’s right. And then daddy can give you all the loving you need to feel better, too. We all know how much you love daddy’s cuddles.” It was true. Christian seemed to have a way with the kids—both of them, to be honest. He was able to get them calmed down on days when it seemed that nothing you could do was helping. It had been even more so with Lily—she was definitely a “daddy’s girl,” through and through. It had been difficult trying to take care of them both without his special touch to comfort them.

Having located the bottle you were looking for, you shut the cabinet door softly and made your way back toward the bedroom, still bouncing the boy you were cradling in your arms.

Christian was still sitting up in the bed, sipping his tea when you walked back in, a soft smile spreading on his face when he saw Oliver laying on your chest. Setting the pill bottle on the side table, you did your best to unscrew the top with one hand and retrieve the medicine he needed.

He whispered a soft, “thank you” as he took the medicine from your outstretched hand, swallowing the pills along with the last of his tea. You took the empty cup from his hands and placed it to the side. Christian reached both of his hands out toward you, wiggling his fingers to tell you he wanted to hold Oliver. As bad as Christian felt, he still loved his kids and loved being a dad.

You giggled as you carefully passed the boy into his hands, and Christian cradled him in one of his arms while he caressed the baby’s face gently with the other. He ran a finger down between Oliver’s eyebrows, tapping his small nose softly, then wiping his thumb slowly across his cheek. Oliver just silently watched his daddy’s face with wide, curious eyes. You could feel the tears burning your eyes at the sweet interaction—Oliver hadn’t been this calm while he was awake in days.

“How’s he been doing?” Christian’s still-hoarse voice pulled you from your thoughts as he looked up at you.

“He’s okay…” you hesitated. “He hasn’t been sleeping or eating very well, but I think he might be getting a little better, so I’m hopeful he’ll be doing okay in the next couple of days.” You forced a smile, refusing to let Christian see how completely exhausted you were after taking care of all three of them for the last few days.

Christian reached out and took your left hand in his, bringing it up to his face to press a kiss to your knuckles—somehow still detecting your tiredness though the mask you had tried to put up. “Thank you,” he spoke so sincerely. “For everything that you’re doing, taking care of me and the kids. You’re honestly incredible.”

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to brush his compliment off, but he wasn’t having it. “I mean it, Y/N.” He squeezed your fingers, hoping you would take his words to heart.

You rubbed your tired eyes, trying to clear them of any tears that had just sprung up. Oliver had quickly fallen asleep in Christian’s arms, mouth open as he breathed steadily.

“I’ll just put him to bed, and then we can go to sleep, okay?” Christian nodded and whispered a soft goodnight to Oliver before you reached down and took the little boy from him. You walked back to Oliver’s room, kissing the top of his soft head and whispering your own goodnight to him before you lay him carefully in the crib and pulled the baby blanket over his legs and waist.

You finally arrived back in your own bedroom, closing the door slowly behind you, careful not to make any noise. Chris was laying down, facing toward your empty side of the bed, and as soon as you were under the covers, he pulled you into him and tucked his face into your neck. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist and you began scratching his scalp and neck, hoping to lull him to sleep too.

You really did hate seeing Christian sick, but the one upside to it was that he became much more clingy than he usually was, which you secretly loved. It always went the same way: he would instinctually reach for you, hesitating as he did so, and then he would pull away and say he didn’t want to get you sick. Then you would tell him you would be fine, because now you had the “impenetrable mommy immune system” and after putting up very little of a fight, he would give in and wrap himself around your body any chance he got as if you were his lifeline that was keeping him from fading away.

The same had happened this time around, and now here you were, on day 3 of his illness, eyes closed in content as you held him in your arms. You felt his breathing begin to grow steady as he drifted off to sleep, and your eyelids felt heavy as you begin to do the same.

That is, until you hear a high-pitched, “Mommy?” ring out through the hallway of your home. You recognized Lilly’s sweet voice, calling to you from her bedroom. “Mommy!” she yelled again, this time a bit louder.

Christian began stirring, tightening his hold on your waist and groaning as you started to get out of the bed. “Chris, I’ve got to go get her before she wakes up Oliver.” You tapped his arms to tell him to let you go, and he begrudgingly obliged.

You found your way into Lily's room and helped her find the stuffed animal she had lost, which had fallen just under the edge of her bed, leaving her unable to find it and sending her into a panic. You tucked her back under her covers, brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead, and kissed her on the cheek. She was already dozing off again before you closed the door on your way out.

When you enter your bedroom once more, you close the door very slowly, trying to make no noise as you did so. You pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed slowly. Turning onto your side to face Christian, you noticed that his eyes are already closed and his breathing is slow—in the time you were gone, he slipped into a peaceful sleep on his own.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit selfishly disappointed—you always loved to fall asleep tangled up with Christian—but you couldn’t hold it against him. You reach out to place a hand on his cheek, stroking your thumb over the freckles that dotted his cheekbones for a few moment. Then, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead, you settled under the covers on your own side of the bed, with your own arms wrapped around your torso in an effort to comfort yourself.

*****

The next day, your spirits were a bit higher. Lily had continued to improve, even seeming a bit better than the day before. Oliver was still fussy but seemed far more satiable than he had been. Christian even had improved significantly and felt well enough to come down to the kitchen to eat the dinner you had made. You placed the plate in front of him as he sat at the island with Lily, and you took your seat next to him, with Oliver’s high chair to your other side. Your heart warmed at the fact that you were able to eat dinner as a family again, a sign that your little family was beginning to get back to normal.

You began cleaning up after dinner, placing the leftover ingredients back in the cabinets and washing the dishes. Lily had run off as soon as she had finished her plate, running in and out of the kitchen periodically as she continued dancing and singing around the house. Every time she would reenter the room, she ran to Christian, hugging him tightly around his legs before she sprinted back out. You could tell she had missed her dad while he had been “gone.”

As you stood there, drying the dishes you had just finished washing, Christian helped you put them away while he held Oliver in one arm. He spoke softly to the baby as he maneuvered his way through the kitchen. As you finished drying the last couple dishes, you dropped the towel on the countertop and took a moment to just watch your husband, bouncing through the kitchen with your tiny little boy in his arms. In the same moment, Lily came flying back into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping on the floor as she ran, and she wrapped her little arms around his knee. Christian reached down with his free hand to ruffle the hair on top of her head, giggling at her antics.

In an instant, you felt overwhelmed with motion at the scene. You wished you could take a picture and capture this moment forever—the three loves of your life, all together in this moment. But the moment didn’t last long before Lily squealed, unwrapping herself from her father’s legs and sprinting back down the hallway and into her room.

Christian put the last of the dishes in their proper place in the cabinet and came over to stand next to you, leaning back against the counter.

“So,” he started shortly and with a sigh, and you immediately knew you weren’t going to like what he had to tell you. “They’re wanting me back in for some light training tomorrow, since I’m feeling better, and I’ve already been out for four days.”

You groaned, but you knew that, although he was presenting it to you like you had a choice, he didn’t really have all that much control over the matter.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He cast his eyes down to the floor.

“No, it’s okay. I know it’s not you.” You approached him, standing between his legs and rubbing Oliver’s back gently. The baby had settled his face in the crook of Christian’s neck, and his slow blinking told you he was on the verge of falling asleep. Christian settled his free hand on your hip, reaching under your loose T-shirt to rub small circles on the skin there with his fingers. “I’m just worried that you’re still not well enough.”

“I’m honestly feeling a lot better tonight,” he smiled at you, looking into your eyes to show you that he was being genuine. “And I don’t think it’ll be too rigorous. Probably just something light to at least get me back on my feet and back to training.”

You nodded, still not totally convinced, but trying to trust his words. Christian leaned forward, capturing your lips softly with his own, careful not to squish Oliver between you. You closed your eyes, getting lost in the feeling for a short moment before he pulled back.

“I’m gonna put this one to bed,” he gestured to the now-sleeping baby laying on his shoulder. “And then we can just relax for a bit, yeah?”

You nodded, smiling at him at he leaned away from the counter and strode down the hallway toward the bedrooms. You finished tidying up a couple more things in the kitchen and then followed him, wondering how on earth you were going to get Lily to settle down before bedtime.

*****

Christian’s first day back at training turned out to be a disaster for you. Oliver was crying more than ever. Lily grew needy after noticing how much attention you had been giving to Oliver and had resorted to dragging most of her toys out of her room and into the living room, scattering them all over the floor and couches. You had created a list of things you wanted to get done that day, since you had fallen behind on some of your regular chores due to taking care of your husband and children, but you had only managed to get about half of them done (between trying to calm Oliver every few minutes and tending to Lily so she didn’t feel forgotten), and it left you feeling like you hadn’t accomplished anything that day—one of your least favorite feelings in the world. On top of it all, you could feel a headache beginning to form over the afternoon, and your nose started to run while your throat grew hoarse, but you refused to believe you were coming down with the illness that had already torn it’s way through your house—you simply didn’t have the time to be sick.

Now, you found yourself trying to make dinner, wanting to have it ready for Christian when he got home from training because you knew he’d be exhausted after his first day back from being ill. However, that wasn’t going according to plan either—the whole day seemed to have gone wrong so far, so why shouldn’t this go wrong too?

Your brain just felt completely scattered as you tried to juggle Lily, Oliver, and collecting the bowls and ingredients you needed for the recipe you were preparing. It was a fairly simple recipe, but you couldn’t seem to get it right—you kept forgetting to add things and spilling ingredients on the counter. You even burnt the first batch of the meat for the recipe and had to throw it out. Thankfully, you had extra, or that really would’ve pushed you over the edge.

You had finally gotten Oliver to sit in his high chair, playing with and eating the tiny bits of fruit that you had cut up in small pieces and placed on the tray in front of him. It seemed to be keeping him fairly occupied for the time being.

You reached into the cabinet, grabbing a small, plastic plate for Lily, and intending to pull out a couple of plates for you and Christian to eat on. But as you did so, you knocked into a glass bowl to the side of the plates, pushing it out of the cabinet and onto the kitchen floor where it shattered, sending shards of broken glass all over the floor.

Immediately, your eyes welled up with tears, the frustrations of the day finally building up to your breaking point. You bent over, resting your elbows on the countertop and dropping your head in your heads, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks.

You were so busy trying to hold yourself together that you didn’t hear the front door close behind Christian as he entered your home, taking his shoes off at the door, and walking further inside. As soon as he rounded the corner and saw you hunched over the counter, he dropped his training bag, coming around the counter to approach you. He immediately took note of the broken glass on the floor, stepping carefully around the scattered pieces.

“Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?” he spoke softly as he gently took hold of your arm. You jumped, not having realized he was there, and immediately tried to wipe your eyes of the tears that had accumulated. But he gave you a knowing look—you couldn’t hide how you felt from him no matter how hard you tried.

He gently led you away from the counter you were standing at, guiding you so that you wouldn’t step on the glass. Without a word, he grabbed the dustpan, sweeping up the pieces of the broken bowl and threw them in the trash before turning back to you to find you just standing at the edge of the kitchen, arms crossed and head dropped low in shame.

He approached you again, placing a hand on both of your arms. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly. His heart clenched in his chest when you looked up at him with red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes.

“I feel like a bad mom.” Your bottom lip trembled, and he immediately pulled you into his chest, letting you take a moment to just cry. “Nothing I do seems to help Oliver get any better. The house is a mess. I already ruined dinner once. And now, I’ve broken a bowl.” You whimpered pitifully into his chest.

Christian unwrapped his arms from his shoulders and placed his hands on both of your cheeks, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “I want you to listen to me: you are an incredible mother. You are the most amazing woman I could have ever imagined to be the mother to my children. You have done so well taking care of all three of us these last few days, and we would have completely fallen apart without you.” He smiled genuinely as he spoke to you. “You are the only thing that has been holding us all together. You are incredible.”

A small smile lifts the edges of your lips at his words, and you looked down to his chest, feeling vulnerable from the eye contact. Christian presses his lips firmly to your forehead and places a kiss there, with a dramatic, “mwah!”

As he pulled his face away, you noticed the frown that he now wore. “Are you feeling sick, sweetheart?” he asked caringly. “You feel really warm.” He presses his lips to your forehead again to recheck your temperature.

At the same moment, Oliver seemingly had lost interest in his fruit pieces and began wailing loudly. The sudden, loud noise intensified your headache, a pounding pain piercing behind your eyes.

Wincing, you pulled away from Christian and muttered a short, “no, I’m okay,” as you reached to pick Oliver up out of his high chair. You tried to ignore Christian’s concerned face as you shushed the baby, bouncing him lightly as you swayed back and forth while holding the back of his head gently. It took only a few moments for Oliver to quiet, nuzzling his face into your shoulder and letting out small whines.

Christian placed himself in front of you, holding both of your arms with a gentle but firm touch as he looked into you eyes again. “Why don’t you go up and get a shower? I’m gonna finish dinner, okay?”

“No, but Chris,” you sighed reluctantly. “That’s not your responsibility, I—”

“You see this?” he asks, raising his left hand in front of your face, palm facing him. He taps the wedding band with his right index finger. “This means that it absolutely is my responsibility. It’s my responsibility to take care of you and to love you and to be whatever you need me to be. And right now, that means I finish dinner and watch the kids while you go take a shower.”

You hesitated briefly, glancing over his shoulder toward the living room where Lily had begun calling out for you.

“Nuh-uh,” he scolded, taking your jaw in his hand and gently turning your head so that you would focus on him again. “Go upstairs, baby. I’ll take care of it.” He pulled Oliver from your arms, laying the boy on his shoulder. He held him securely with one arm, wrapping the other around your waist to guide you out of the kitchen and gave you a gentle push down the hallway as he turned to go see what Lily needed.

After a steaming hot shower that helped relieve your headache and relax your tense muscles, and a dinner that turned out remarkably well after Christian salvaged it from the chaos you had started with, you found yourself in your room, sitting up in the middle of the bed with your legs under the duvet as you waited for Christian.

When you had come downstairs from your shower, you had passed Lily in the hallway. Her arms were full as she carried the last of her toys from the living room and back to her bedroom—Christian had tidied up and instructed her to take all of her things back down the hall. You rounded the corner to find Christian dishing the food out onto plates, a towel thrown over his shoulder as he worked. You wrapped your arms around his waist as you hugged him from behind and pressed your cheek between his shoulders as a show of thanks. Oliver had cooed, clapping at the sight of his parents together.

Now, you waited for your husband as he tucked both of the children into their beds—he had told you to say your goodnights and sent you off to bed, stating that he would take care of them tonight. So, with a kiss on both of their heads, you handed them off to Christian and did as he had told you to.

When Christian finally entered the room, he was carrying a glass of water and the same medicine you had provided to him only a couple of days before. “A little birdie told me that this might help you feel better,” he spoke softly and a smile played at his lips.

As you took the medicine, he shed his shirt and shorts, leaving him in only his boxers as he slid onto the mattress and settled himself behind you. You were confused by his actions for a moment until you felt his hands resting on your shoulders, his thumbs pressing firmly into the muscles there.

You groan in appreciation, head falling forward so that your chin was touching your chest as he continued to massage your back.

“How is it that you always know exactly what I need?” you ask him and hear his soft laugh.

He leans forward, the warmth of his chest pressing into your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he places a kiss on your cheek. “That’s my job, sweetheart.” Your face warmed at his actions as you leaned your head toward him, pressing his nose into your cheek slightly. “And I’ve been doing it for several years, so I better have figured it out by now.” This drew a laugh from your lips, and he went back to the massage he had been giving you.

After a few minutes, he noticed how your eyes began to droop. He took you by the shoulders, gently laying you down onto the pillow. He leaned over to the side table, turning the lamp off, and settled down next to you, pulling you into his arms. Your head lay on his chest and the steady rise and fall of his breathing was putting you right back to sleep after the movement had woken you up a bit.

“Thank you, Christian,” you spoke at almost a whisper into the peaceful atmosphere of your dark bedroom.

“No, baby, thank you for taking care of the kids and I for the last few days. This is the least I could’ve done.” He trailed his fingers lightly up and down your arm. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.” You pressed a kiss against his jaw, and he reciprocated with one placed on the top of your head. And finally, after a long, draining day, you fell asleep wrapped in the comforting arms of your husband, the father of your two beautiful children.

[gangplanksorenji]

19:01

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM Kazuha x Male Reader

Word Count: 3670

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! I was really consdiering writing this and after listening to "7PM" by BSS, I knew that this was the time so, here it is! Hope you enjoy this short fluff piece with Zuha (btw, she looks very stunning this comeback) and it's clearly inspired with that song in mind. Enjoy!

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

“Come meet me at seven,

And stay ‘til eleven

But won’t go to bed then,

‘Cause this feels like heaven—”

---

Time is ticking as you watch the busy metropolis lights emitted from the distance, so as the moon appears in the night sky that's once emanated by the bright sun.

Rustling leaves and the cool breeze match the silence of your unhurried footsteps, determined to meet someone that’s exceptional, way beyond exceptional—you just can't seem to define the exact word but it'll do.

Taking a look at your watch, it displays “6:54”.

“I don't need to rush getting there, there's still some time left.” you said to yourself.

You hurriedly get your phone from your pocket and read the last messages with her and you're glad your memory isn't failing you.

---

zuha_kang: “Come meet me at 7 PM, Oppa. In the usual restaurant we've been eating at, see ya! <;3”

Well, what is she having in store for you?

You'll never know as sometimes, she's unpredictable. Looking for patterns can't even let you read her like a book, not even the tiniest bit.

She does invite or text you to spend some time with her somewhere and same as you also do it to her but this time, it's out of the blue—knowing how she's with her friends today until, maybe, the end of the day.

Knowing the latter was none of your business but you just can't let these thoughts out of your head.

Have you done something wrong? Is she preparing a surprise for you? And way a lot more.

These are just one of the many thoughts but you won't let yourself overthink this much, not when she's all over your mind after another exasperating day of school and to deal with such boisterous and annoying classmates.

Kazuha—that's her name. The girl that you've been scared of when she's staring blankly and sternly towards you and the girl that made your heart beat a trillion times. She's such a sunshine and a clingy girl whenever she's near you and also with a flexible and clever mind—maybe her years of ballet helps with the way her brain coordinates things. Also, her beauty is way too captivating for your eyes—her simple-yet-so-elegant visuals always makes you in awe.

Your eyes wandered around the spacious conglomeration of concrete and grass all over the park, finding her as your eyes now focused on the benches, on where she’s sitting.

Not here, not there, oh! There she is—

Your eyes automatically averted to her—knowing it’s her and it’s probably your instinct recognizing her distinct features, even from a mile away.

“Hey Oppa!” her tone is surprisingly vivid, unlike the casual, cold greeting of her whenever she sees you.

Her face is also enthusiastic, her delighting gaze and her wide smile making you feel butterflies on your stomach—it almost feels surreal yet you’re loving every second of it. She then rushes to hug you tight as you quickly reciprocate the hug, making her squeal softly and silently, almost inaudible.

“Hey Zuha… You came to s—oh wow…” Your words were cut by the sight of her mesmerizing beauty, admiring her and stunning you on the process—her features on-tact as the gray-colored blazer-like coat compliments her looks very well alongside the black long sleeves and the pearl necklace being the cherry on top.

“Like what I wore, Oppa?”

“Yes, Zuha. You look fantastic. So incredibly fantastic…” Your eyes are still spacing out, as you’re still star-struck by her beauty.

“Uhm, anyways. You came to see me now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suddenly like, I don’t know, like—uhm, hmm, just want to hang out with you, y’know?”

Did she hit her head or something? Something doesn’t feel right; there’s a disturbance within the force—

“Well, you’re lucky that my boss is in a good mood today and agrees to let me leave work earlier, heh.” You scuffed a breath out, making sure that Kazuha knows how lucky she can be to meet her at this exact moment.

“Well—” Kazuha held both of your hands as she looked at your eyes, endearing enough to make your heart melt like butter and pouts right after. “—I’m sorry about that then, Oppa.”

“Nah Zuha, you ain’t sorry. It’s alright.” You scoff and smile right after yet you then feel unnerved suddenly. You don’t exactly know the reason but maybe it’s just the fact that Kazuha is acting not-so-herself today and you can’t help but notice it and she’s not even hiding it, even the slightest bit. You didn’t really mind it as you’re liking this affectionate and clingy version of hers.

The both of you then walked your way around the park as you continued to blabber and chat about multiple things like “How did your day go?” and more.

Within a couple of minutes of strolling, Kazuha stopped from her tracks and looked at your eyes, staring endearingly right into your soul as a serene smile painted her face.

“Oppa…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really know why I suddenly called you to come here?”

“Zuha, tsk—” you clicked your tongue as you feigned confidence, knowing why she called you here suddenly as you let your intrusive thoughts win.

“—you said that you wanted to see me and… oh…”

Kazuha taps your shoulder, raising her eyebrows as she smirks with that sudden realization of yours, maybe her thinking the same thought as you were thinking.

“Maybe you know now? And why did I sit on that specific bench?”

“I know, I know. Ahhh, this is where we—first met. Yeah…”

The both of you shared laughs alongside the sincerely delightful smiles as you reminisced those times when you first met her.

---

Speechless. You're just speechless on a single minute of eavesdropping about your parents' quarrel over the front door. 

It was supposed to be one of the best days of your life as you'll get to see them after a year of living away from them because of college and to your surprise—well, you're going to surprise them yet the tables have turned pretty quickly—your mother found out that your father is cheating with another woman and with that single information, you felt stabbed at the back.

You've never felt this much pain and anguish in your life—you feel defeated and angry at him, and even, yourself. You had nothing to do with this yet you feel guilty of making your father do such a cruel act—because you chose to pursue your dream, to study the course that he never wanted you to—yet you tell yourself that it was never your fault. 

Yelling and loud thuds can be heard inside the house as you feel the presence of them going near towards the front door. You swiftly hid behind the white brick-chiseled concrete post as tears involuntarily came out of your eyes, another stream following as you can just inevitably hear them argue. You then heard your father starting the engine of the car from the garage, knowing that he's going to leave your mother alone. This then sent you into your breaking point.

You were driven by your own emotions and so are they as you quickly ran away from the house and even though if you try to stop them or even appear, things may get even worse. 

You just don't know what to do at that point.

You're scared.

Confused.

Broken.

Defeated.

Angry.

More emotions run down your veins as you can only think of running away as far as possible where you can't hear nor see them. 

You curse yourself as you wail on how unfair life could be. 

How unfair life could be…

The nimbus clouds are getting darker, signaling that it will rain soon. You didn't care to say the least as you feel enervated and sad. You then sit at a bench on the park where you are right now as you lay your head down and possibly think of what you could've done wrong.

Rain starts to pour as you feel droplets of water meet your skin as the rainfall gets heavier all of a sudden, you crying alongside the weeping clouds of nature.

You just sit there, lost and done as you feel nothing but pain when suddenly the feeling of the raindrops meeting your skin stops.

Did it suddenly stop raining? Or…

“Hey, sir. I’m afraid you’ll catch a cold.”

A voice. A voice lingered to your ear as you’re not hearing the voices inside your head but rather, a person holding an umbrella, preventing you from getting wet even though you’re soaked in it.

You looked up and saw a feminine figure with her grayish-colored blazer alongside her black denim pants. You can’t clearly see her face as your eyes were fogged by the raindrops and your tears but you instantly felt a magnetic connection between her.

Oh, love, that’s what you call it—more like it’s called “love at first sight”.

You never really believed in that saying once you heard it from the start, not until it happened today. You heart beats a trillion times more than what it should be—it can maybe surpass tachycardia at this point—and you can’t help but feel a little bit of hope on what this angel did.

“Sir, are you alright?”

She still keeps looking at you, still holding her umbrella up as concern is evident in her tone. You just kept your head down, not even bothering her yet deep inside, you feel butterflies to your stomach—a feeling you’ve never imagined was true.

“Sir?”

“No.” A cold “no” was just your response. Your tone wasn’t anywhere near being intimidated nor being uninterested but rather nearly just monotone. You can sense that she wasn’t bothered by your current mood as she knows what’s up with you—she respects and knows how she can make you unprovoked even though she’s practically just a stranger in your eyes. 

Within that awkward minute, she lends a hand to you, reassuring you with her saccharine smile as you momentarily smile back at her, yours is more vexed considering what you’ve been feeling today. With a little bit of hesitation, you held her hand as you stood up, you then wiping your tears to see her clearly and time went slow as you saw her enticingly beautiful face. You were starstruck and in awe as her sharp and distinct visuals sent your brain into haywire. 

“Thank you…”

“No problem sir. Oh, by the way, I’m Kazuha.”

“I’m Minsung. Nice to meet you, Kazuha.”

The both of you then bowed at each other as you smiled at her, a little bit more gleeful than before. Feeling comfortable with her all of a sudden, you then started another talk with her as you initiated to hold the umbrella for her. She finds it rather flustering as your gentlemanly actions made her shy, earning yourself a delightful grin.

“Why did you bother talking to me?”

It’s singlehandedly awkward with what question you spat out of your mouth and even Kazuha remained silent yet smiled even though you radiated a gloomy aura—she rivaled it.

“Uhm, I just saw that you’re the only one at the park and, I said to myself, “Why not approach him and maybe do something?”, so… yeah, I just suddenly felt bad.”

But who on Earth would mind approaching you while it's raining? Apparently, it was her, and you can’t help but be enlightened with just her simple action.

“Oh… thank you I guess…”

You feel like you don’t deserve to talk with this angel in front of you but you definitely deserve a girl like her. 

A girl like her is someone you can talk to when you feel alone.

A girl like her is  someone that can cheer you up whenever you're feeling down.

And, a girl like her is someone that you can always lean on whenever you're struggling.

She's maybe the one you've been looking for and she's maybe checking the boxes of what your type of girl would be.

Even though she's still a stranger in your eyes, it uncannily feels like the both of you had been best friends for years and that feeling could never be better.

“Mingsung, don't you mind going to a shade there at the corner? The rain may get worse and we can't afford to be wet, and you, to be wetter.”

“Oh, sure.”

The both of you then waddled your way to that concrete shade at the exit of the park as the both of you sat down comfortably.

“Oh, I'm kinda shy of asking this but, I think you're older than me—are you older than—uh… me?”

“Oh, I'm born in 2002 and how about you? I'm very sorry I called you without honorifics—”

“It's alright, Oppa. Also, I'm sorry too for not calling you with honorifics. Anyways, I'm born in 2003.”

The both of you sighed in relief as you laughed it off about your earlier mistakes. She didn't mind your mistake and so is she, and that makes the guilt in your heart loose.

“Hmm, Kazuha—”

“Yes, Oppa?”

“I suppose that you're not from Korea, right? Or am I missing something coz' like your name isn't Korean at all, maybe for me.”

“Oh, I am really not from Korea, Oppa. I'm originally from—”

“Japan?” you precede her actions as a knot in your brain tells you that she's Japanese but are you really right though?—

“Yeah, I'm from Japan, Oppa. Mainly in Kochi but I grew up in Osaka most of my years.”

“Ohhh…”

The both of you converse for a little while as delightful laughs and giggles emanated around the area. You didn’t mind the time passing and so is rain pouring as the both of you share your common traits, wants like music and hobbies and a lot more. You became so hooked on your conversations with her that you didn't even notice that the rain was slowly fading in intensity and eventually, it stopped.

“Oh, the rain has already stopped, Oppa and oh, I gotta go right now, sorry…”

She hurriedly readied herself as she was about to leave until a voice escaped from your mouth.

“Oh, Zuha…”

“Yes, Oppa?”

You fidget your fingers on to the hem of your shirt as you're uneasy and shy to ask her the thing you’ve been longing for since the minute you’ve engaged in a conversation with her. 

“Ah-ha-ahh, if you don’t mind this Zuha—uhhh—can I get y-your number?” It may seem haphazard and out of the blue for you to do this as that’s what you hoped on what Kazuha may feel yet it absolutely had an not-so-unanticipated turn which you’re not sure on what to feel about.

“Sure, Oppa.”

You couldn’t be happier as this feels oh-so-surreal. Tell yourself that you’re overexaggerating but you can’t help but feel butterflies on your stomach. It has been awhile since you asked for a girl’s number and at the end, you even got rejected. With Kazuha’s simple action, that previous anxiety and scar of yours slowly healed into its original state—your heart filled with bliss and assurance that everything will be fine, again.

You rushingly gave your phone to her as she typed the digits onto your contacts and saved it there. A smile paints your face as this is a sign of further reassurance to the test that broke you earlier. You waved goodbye to Kazuha as she hurriedly waddles away, waving back to you as you can see her getting farther and smaller from your peripherals.

Zuha-yah~, thank you for entertaining me…

Yes. You’re thankful for her entertaining you despite the awkwardness in the rain earlier. In both ways, you felt a sudden connection, a magnetic one towards her. You felt the raising of your heartbeat and the thrill of excitement and you just can’t get rid of it. It must’ve been hard today after such an heartbreaking sight earlier but with a sudden angel, like her being the shining light of your abyss full of darkness, it was everything you could’ve asked for and you're grateful for that.

------

“So, did something happen when you got home, Oppa?”

“I was really hesitant on going home, like, really hesitant but I had no choice—I didn't want to sleep in the streets since it was cold back then, so… yeah, I did go home and to my surprise, they were acting all along!!”

Kazuha was in shock as a puzzled expression was shown on her face. You giggled because of her as she scrunched her eyebrows, still can’t process and believe what she just heard.

Yes. It is surprising. Roller-coaster of emotions, huh? I’ve felt that too, reader. Well, it was out of the blue, to say the least because everything felt more than real. You completely unravel the truth to Kazuha as it was unbelievable as the first listen, let alone to you, ingesting the sudden happenings at that moment. Your parents acted on a heated quarrel in order to surprise you because they know you’ll come. How did you know that they were a plan ahead of you? Well, there are two things to consider: the first one is that they told you right after they surprised you and second, it’s just the knot in your brain telling you that it’s an instinct that you’ll plan to surprise them. It was a sudden relief of a weird predicament that happened, and you couldn't be any better realizing that it was all just an Oscar-worthy performance from your parents. 

“Oh my gosh, Oppa. I can’t believe they did that! Woah… I wouldn’t expect that too if I were in your shoes…”

“If you only knew how real that was, you would bawl your eyes too.”

“Yah, Oppa. Stop making me think about that~”

“Sorry—ahh… Come here, Zuha.”

You invite her in a warm embrace as she quickly joins you. Kazuha’s cheeks hint a rosy pink as she gets shy from your affection. It was nothing new but nevertheless, it just makes her way too endearingly pretty. Still in your embrace, she hitched a breath as she prepared herself to say something.

“Oppa, back to when I was saying, you know the other reason why I suddenly called you?”

“What is it, Zuha?”

All you can see is Kazuha reaching from her back pocket, handing a small, red, rectangular box towards you and then flashing a smile.

“Open it, Oppa. It’s just my small gift, for you…”

You knew from the moment you saw the box that it was a gift from hers, yet not knowing what kind of gift it is. It could be anything small that you could think of: a necklace, a bracelet, a  ring, a watch and the list goes on and it just pushes you into further anticipation. You then gently untie the ribbon and open the lid on the box as you can see Kazuha’s vivid expressions: her smile full of glee, her eyes sparkling in anticipation and her hands fidgeting and uneasy.

“Woah, Zuha…”

“Do you like it, Oppa?”

Before you could answer, your eyes scan the distinct details of the bracelet as the metallic sculpting of a cursive-like calligraphy of your name luminates from the dimness around. You can clearly see your favorite colors in the bracelet—which is blue and gray—which make it much more appealing to you as you appreciate Kazuha's efforts in giving you one. 

“You've played a big role in my life, Oppa. I'm just so grateful for meeting a guy like you, so, I reflected on myself and I wanted to give you something that would be memorable to you.”

Kazuha's eyes hint a glint as the emotions run down her veins, letting it speak for herself. She still anticipates your reaction as her furrowed eyebrows are one of the evidence of it.

“So, Oppa, did you like i—”

“I love it so much, Zuha.”

You suddenly hugged her with the only aim to show how grateful and thankful you are for receiving a gift from hers. You pull out of her embrace as you cupped her cheeks, adoring her and flashing a blissful grin. This moment leads to something magical, bizarre from the usual bonding the both of you have been into like playing some arcade games or more likely, watching the movies. Sure, it is heartwarming but nothing beats this moment on how it feels everything you've asked for, and you're loving every second of it.

“Thank you so much, Zuha. I'm grateful for meeting a girl like you too. If you only knew how much I love you, only if you knew…”

“But I always knew it, Oppa… Here, in my heart, I know it.”

You felt moved by her sentence as you kissed her forehead, letting her know how much you love her and how much you appreciate her. Without any time to waste, the two of you then waddle your way out of the park as the faint hum of the metropolis and the sound of crickets can be heard—it’s just so tranquil and you wish that this would last forever. 

You mean the world to her as she does to you, so you're willing to spend your time with her, no matter what happens, just to see that oh-so-sweet smile of hers—it makes you happy more than anything, and you're willing to protect and cherish that smile. 

“Will you stay until eleven o'clock with me, Oppa?”

“Of course Zuha-yah~ More than anything.”

A sudden smooch to her forehead brightens up the dimness brought by the night. Her smile is enough to illuminate the darkness of the trail that follows and enough to light up your world. She's all you can ask for and that's what the cherry on top—just her being herself, nothing more, and nothing less. The night is still young and you'll be with her until the dawn of tomorrow comes, or maybe be with her, forever.

“'Cause at seven you will be, be here with me.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

❄️LIKE A FAMILY❄️

A/N: happy holidays cuties!! this is the first fic out of the three stories coming throughout christmas, i hope you'll enjoy them all!

WORD COUNT: 2k

PAIRING: older!Harry x single-mom!reader

SUMMARY: Harry never thought he would have a family to celebrate Christmas with, but now he has you and your daughter who he loves as his own and it seems like the little girl feels the same way about him.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

Harry hasn’t been this excited and nervous about Christmas since he was a little boy, when he still believed in Santa. He is thirty-seven now, yet his eyes pop open at six in the morning as if an alarm went off.

On his left he sees that you’re still peacefully asleep, your hair is a mess and your lips are slightly parted as you’re softly snoring beside him. He never told you that you snore, it’s his little secret, he knows you’d get embarrassed and try to find a way to stop yourself from doing it, but he actually loves it.

He tries to relax and stay in bed a little longer, but he can’t stay put and he doesn’t want to wake you up, so he navigates his way out of the bedroom to make breakfast. He passes the giant Christmas tree, it’s the biggest he has ever gotten, but in the past few years he had no one to celebrate with and he didn’t want to waste on Christmas decoration just for himself. This year, however, he went all out so you and Tia would have the best first Christmas you spend living together. It’s a special occasion and Harry wanted it to be perfect and memorable.

If someone told him three years ago that he would have an enormous Christmas tree in his penthouse with dozens of gifts for a little girl underneath, he would have snorted out a laugh and called them crazy. Even maintaining a stable relationship felt like impossible a while ago, but a lot has changed.

He met you and your daughter, Tia.

He had his doubts about dating a single mom, but you had him wrapped around your finger even before your first date. He fell hard and fast and he changed his whole lifestyle to suit you and it was the best decision he has ever made. Now, two years later you’ve officially moved in just a month ago and you’re spending the holidays together.

Like a family.

Harry never saw himself as a father figure, he has come to terms with the possibility of never having kids a long time ago. Yet his life has turned upside down because of one three years old princess who is the true ruler of his luxurious home these days. There are dolls and toys everywhere, a pink towel and bathrobe in his spotless modern bathroom, a tiny, yellow raincoat with daisies on it hung up next to his Gucci coat and most of the times Barbie movies are played on his flat screen.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He walks over to the fridge that has Tia’s schedule on it, Harry’s name put up next to her ballet classes, it’s been his duty to pick her up every Tuesday and Thursday, everyone in his office knows he leaves the building at four no matter what to be at the dance studio by four thirty.

He decides to make pancakes, Tia’s favorite. He grabs everything he needs from the fridge and the pantry before mixing them up and grabbing a pan. Stacking them on each other he sets the table for three, brews the coffee just how you like it and makes hot chocolate for the little girl.

“You’re up early.”

He hasn’t even noticed you were approaching him as he flips another pancake. You walk up to him and press a loving kiss between his shoulder blades before wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks.

“No. Bed was cold without you though,” you hum as you watch him put the pancake on top of the pile and pouring more of the mixture into the pan.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“I hope you’re not nervous,” you chuckle, but you hit the nail on the head and his silence proves that to you. “H, she will love your gifts. All eleven of them,” you add smiling. He went a little overboard with toy shopping, but he wanted Tia to have the best time the first year she spends Christmas with him. He knows how big of a change it was for the two of you to move in with him and he wants to show you how happy he is that you took this step.

“Just want everything to be perfect,” he mumbles shyly, finishing up the last pancake.

Moments later he hears Tia’s door open and a pair of tiny feet are tapping on the granite floor as she runs down the hallway, appearing with her crazy bed hair and wearing her favorite Christmas jammies.

“Santa was here?” is the first thing she asks, dragging her giraffe plushie after her. “Santa was here!” she shrieks seeing all the gifts underneath the tree and Harry can’t help but smile to himself, thinking about how you and him placed all the neatly wrapped boxes out last night after she went to sleep.

“He was, but you need to eat breakfast first,” you remind her as you walk up to her and take scoop the little girl up into your arms.

“Oh, pancakes!” she grins happily when she sees what’s on the table.

“Yes, Harry made them for us,” you hum, kissing her cheek before making her sit in her usual seat. She’s still a bit too small for the table, but she insists on eating like you and Harry lately.

“Thank you!” she smiles at him and you don’t miss how his cheeks blush.

“You’re welcome, princess.” He places everything needed on the table before walking past behind Tia, pressing a kiss on top of her head and taking his seat.

Tia talks about the dream she had and Harry listens to her as if she was explaining the meaning of life to him. You help her with the syrup, but let her handle her food alone. She only gets one little spot on her jammies, though her chubby cheeks have syrup all over them.

“Can you clean her up a bit? I’ll clean the table,” you ask Harry and he nods before moving over to Tia with a napkin to wipe her face as much as he can.

He then takes her to the bathroom to wash her hands and the rest of her face while you load the dishwasher. You remember when you met him, Tia had just turned one and Harry was scared to even hold her hand. He said she was so small and fragile, he didn’t feel like he could take good care of her. Now he is the first one to pick her up whenever she demands to be carried, he loves wrestling with her on the couch, throwing her up into the air and of course he catches her every time with ease.

“Gifts! Gifts!” she chants as she rockets out of the bathroom, into the living room where the Christmas tree is, Harry following behind her.

The three of you settle by the tree on the soft carpet as Tia scans over all the boxes.

“Which is mine?” she asks.

“See, this is your name,” you point out one of the boxes that has her name written on it. “T-I-A, look for that.”

Tia sorts out all the boxes that belong to her and starts ripping the apart while Harry watches her reaction to all of them anxiously, relief washing over him every time he sees her face light up. Dolls, plushies, clothes and all kinds of toys, Tia got everything she put on her list and even more.

You open your gifts and you give Harry his, though it was a struggle to find something to give to a man who has everything he wants, but when he opens the box and sees the tickets to his favorite Broadway show his face lights up and he kisses you softly, mumbling his thank you against your lips.

“Mommy, can I?” Tia asks you when every gift has been unwrapped. Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion while you know exactly what your daughter is asking you about.

“Yeah, I’ll grab it for you,” you smile, standing up from your spot and disappearing in Tia’s room for a moment before returning with an envelope.

“What’s that?” Harry asks as he watches you join him on the floor again.

“It’s a gift! I made it for you!” Tia announces in excitement as you hand her the envelope so she can give it to Harry, who is shocked to be receiving something from Tia.

“Oh… Thank you so much,” he says, taking the gift from her.

Tia starts jumping up and down giggling as Harry opens the envelope and pulls a drawing out. His lips part as he examines the masterpiece and he realizes what it is.

“It’s us!” Tia explains as she climbs to Harry’s lap so she can point at the figures. “This is mom, this is me and this is you!” she points at the stick figures in the middle. “We’re in the park!” she adds, which explains all the green scribbles around the stick figures, a big yellow splodge in the corner of the paper which he assumes is the Sun.

It’s an average kids drawing, he knows Tia loves drawing, but what completely takes his breath away are the wobbly words underneath the figures that she wrote probably with your help.

Mom, Me, Dad, the words read, the first D in dad is backwards and her M’s are giant compared to the other letters but it doesn’t matter, he is fixated on the last word.

“Y-You wrote these?” he asks, his eyes first moving to Tia and then to you. You sit with a warm smile, watching the two of them have this amazing moment.

“Yes! Mommy helped!”

“And… you know what they mean?” Harry asks carefully and Tia nods.

“Mom, Me and Dad,” she answers and Harry’s eyes start dwelling instantly as she wraps his arms around the little girl, hugging her to his chest tightly.

“So I’m Dad?” he asks when he lets go of Tia, but she remains sitting on his lap.

“Mhm,” she nods, playing with his necklace, probably not even realizing how major this moment is to Harry. “If you want,” she adds.

“I would love to be your dad, Tia,” he says with the most lovesick smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

The three of you stay and play a little more with Tia before Harry gets up to put her drawing up to the fridge. He can’t help but stare at it grinning.

“She’s been so excited to give it to you,” you say as you walk up to him, linking your arm with his as the two of you look at the drawing.

“You’re not mad she called me dad?” he asks, worries popping up in his head suddenly.

“H, I cried when she asked me to help her write dad on the picture,” you admit with a chuckle. “I thought she would have to grow up without a father and now she has the absolute best dad I could ever wish for her. I could never be mad at that.”

His shoulders loosen up as he leans down and steals a short kiss.

“You think I’ll be a good dad?” he quietly asks.

“You are a good dad, Harry. You read her bedtime stories, watch all the Barbie movies with her, you ignore all work calls when you’re with her, she feels safe with you, she trusts you and she loves you. I can never thank you enough for being this amazing with her.”

“I love her too,” he softly says. “How could I not? She is… the most perfect little princess,” he adds with a little chuckle.

“She is your princess,” you grin before pushing yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his lips. “And… I don’t want you to freak out, but… if you ever decide you want another pair of tiny feet running around here… I’m down for that.”

“You want another?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up at your suggestion.

“With you, I would have a dozen more,” you chuckle. ”But one would be nice too. I think Tia would be a great big sister.”

“She would,” he nods, his hand wandering down to yours, rubbing his thumb over your naked ring finger. “Let’s get back to this when you have something here,” he says with a smirk and your heart skips a beat at his words.

“Okay,” you say breathless, pressing your lips to his again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[marianadecarlos]

hewwo ma amie !! i came as stated cus bourbon - habsburg infodump exchange

I would actually want a presentation about mariana de austria ... im a loser who doesnt know much about her ! i read about her when she got to spain and was confused about spanish (that was so real from her) but i dont know more cool stuff about her at all ... so feel free to tell me anything you find remarkable about her !

who is your favourite bourbon ? :3

Thank you for this Question:

Queen Mariana of Austria is known as the Mother of Charles II of Spain and the niece/wife of Philip IV. She was Queen Regent when her husband Philip IV died and ruled on Carlos II's behalf until he was 14. Like Charles II, Queen Mariana was a victim of the classic “decline of Spain” paradigm. She is defined by 19th-century historians as “weak,” “unstable,” and “ignorant” but also “Machiavellian,” “scheming,” “with a German outlook” (meaning foreign), at times “melancholic” because she suffered from migraines, and was overly pious and uninterested in politics because she “dressed as a nun." She was accused of handing power over to her favorites; Jose Everardo Nithard and Fernando de Valenzuela. In reality, She was smart, strategic, strong, decisive, and seemingly tactile. Her favorites played a dominant role in her regency but her strong and decisive personality and her extensive and consistent participation in all aspects of government suggest otherwise. She faced two political crises during her regency the first was in 1669 resolved by her dismissal of Nithard; the second, between 1675 and 1677, ended with Valenzuela’s fall and her exile. There is evidence in state papers to prove that she did not surrender power to them. Speaking of Jose Everardo Nithard, He was Mariana's tutor, friend, and later her confessor. He was made inquisitor General. As for Valenzuela, Known as the palace elf, due to his influence and connections to people in high places. He married a woman who is part the queens valet. He provided Queen Mariana information about gossip and rumors that were circulating in Madrid. Valenzuela got more influencial overtime which created tension between him and the court. He was Mariana's protégé. Their friendship caused controversy and nasty rumors where made about them as a result. The worst one I believe was the rumor of Queen Mariana sleeping with Valenzuela. The fact that people actually believe that rumor makes me angry. Mariana was dressed as a nun because this is the type of dress worn by Habsburg widows. She made a few changes to the garb like having princely folds and lavish materials. Queen Mariana was exposed to the Spanish cultural traditions because Mariana's mother is Philip IV's sister. She was exposed to Italian culture because of two generations of italian empresses. Mariana both observed and participated in court ballets, rituals, and ceremonies; her dance master, Santo Ventura, was highly regarded. Boys received this kind of instruction as well. Leopold I, for example, was an avid consumer and practitioner of theater and music as emperor. At the age of seven, for example, Mariana publicly greeted her parents on their return from the Diet of Regensburg in 1641 by saluting her mother in the Spanish style and her father in Latin. When the fourteen-year-old performed a similar greeting in Trento, this time as queen of Spain, she had had at least seven years of practice. Queen Mariana was educated and spoke Latin, Spanish and German well. Judging by her education and her fleunt spanish, I doubt she struggled speaking spanish. I read somewhere that Queen Mariana as a child loves playing with dolls. She was cheerful, obedient, and lively girl. Her marriage to King Philip IV of Spain was always described as a terrible marriage because King Philip "cheated" on her, their different personalities, and massive age gap. In reality, They had an affectionate relationship and King Philip was loyal throughout their marriage. He described himself as a change man and would give Mariana everything she wanted. They did struggle financially though and at times could get caught in a series of arguments. I mean no marriage is perfect.

Gossip writer Barrioneuvo reports that one day The Queen asked for pastries and commented that she was not served for some days. She was told that the pastry cook would not supply the palace until a large outstanding bill had been paid. She removed a ring from her finger and ordered a servant to exchange it for pastries; Manuelillo de Gante told her to put the ring back on and gave the servant a copper to buy some tarts so that the Queen can finish her dinner.

Queen Mariana was the woman behind Castillio De San Marco, After a pirate attack in June 1668 roused Mariana into action. Queen Mariana was horrified receiving this news because the attack was so brutal. On March 11, 1669, the queen regent issued her decree ordering the viceroy of New Spain to send subsidies to the city. She also added funding for the building of a masonry fortification and additional soldiers. To oversee the project, she sent Don Manuel de Cendoya to St. Augustine as the new royal governor. Her judgement protected and spurred the city’s growth over the following decades. This growth even led to a later governor requesting the same regent queen for a new two-story, coquina Governor’s House in St. Augustine.

Mariana was a good mother-in-law to Marie Louise of Orleans. After the wedding of Marie Louise, Carlos introduced Marie Louise. Marie Louise bowed to her but Queen Mariana grabbed her hands and told her to stand; and said "Call me mother" with a smile.

Mariana in the year 1696 felt pain in her breast turns out she had breast cancer and she tries her best to hide it because she did not want Maria Anna of Nueburg to take over. The pain was unbearable that she asked the doctors to check her breast. When they examined the Queen they found a huge tumor in her breast. Their is no treatment for this and she was offered relics and prayers. When she died.

Reports of miracles attributed to her quickly began to circulate. These miracles and her body’s reported “incorruptibility” three years after her death led to a beatification proceeding in the last years of Carlos’s reign. Mariana’s path to sainthood, however, came to an abrupt end when the new dynasty, the Bourbons, took power. Both the beatification proceedings in 1698 and its abandonment in 1702 were as politically motivated as everything else in her life had been

I won't give too much information on her regency because there is a book about it called Queen, Mother, and Stateswoman Mariana of Austria and the government of Spain by Silvia Z. Mitchell. This book is my source about her and the reason why I made this blog so her side of the story will be known. Other sources are from https://governorshouselibrary.wordpress.com/2022/09/22/mariana-de-austria-the-queen-behind-the-castillo-de-san-marcos/?fbclid=IwY2xjawE5D5UBHUpP8HVhtFboR9ZThC2j5LNDLj531pKjmVxtGQbf7A2yMOo2AuNxqEU3Qw

I like 4 bourbons, Philip V, Luis I, Fernando VI, and Carlos III. If I had to choose one it would be Carlos III because he modernized Spain and imposed great reforms.

Sorry I took so long to reply