#im so sorry for the delay lmao i hope the word count makes up for it in a way

[whorekneecentral]

The Night Before Christmas

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: snow storms, delayed flights, slight disappointment, mention of a christmas miracle, hitchhiking - don't worry andrea is there for adult supervision, incorrect ski terms and whatnot - idk I don't ski, old ladies love joris, fear of flying/small planes, oral (f!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, cuddles in bed.

Word Count: 2,225

Author's Note: so sorry for the delay in posting this, I've been in a bit of a slump lately and im trying to get back on schedule with the posting, bare with me lmao

merry smutmas series

--

A massive snow storm delays Charles’ flight home for the holidays and you both begin to give up hope but a Christmas miracle occurs.

Christmas was a bit of a mess this year.

December 24th and Charles Leclerc was stranded in Italy with Andrea and Joris. Charles had gone because he had a Christmas event to do with Ferrari, Joris and Andrea had accompanied him but they decided to go up north and go skiing for the remainder of the week.

They hadn't planned to push it so close to Christmas and then the snow came down; the stupid snow which blocked the roads and left them stranded in the mountains of Italy.

You were a bit disappointed when your boyfriend called to tell you that he wouldn't be able to make it home in time for Christmas. You asked him if there was anything you could do and he told you because of the snow, he wasn't exactly sure when he'd get home.

Charles could hear the disappointment in your voice, and it made him sad to know that he wasn't gonna be able to be home in time to spend Christmas with you.

It was as if Andrea could read Charles' mind; "what?"

"We have to get out of here, we need to go home."

"I know," Andrea tells him, Joris looks up from his laptop, "everything is closed, the roads, the airport, like.. we're stuck."

Charles was nothing if not determined. He made it his mission to make it home in time to spend Christmas with you - bit of a tight task considering it was 10pm on Christmas eve. Nonetheless, he and the boys rallied up - not like Joris or Andrea had a choice - and followed Charles out of the ski resort.

They made it about 2 miles down the road trudging through the snow before they finally came across a ski ranger, the man on his way down the mountain to pick up something they needed on the resort. He was kind enough to let them get in, the 3 of them squished into the back seat as the ranger drove them down. Due to the snow, it took them triple the time to go down than it took to go up but it was progress nonetheless.

Once they made it to the town, they were at crossroads again. How are they going to make it to the airport?

It was a one step at the time sort of plan, if they thought too far ahead, they'd just give up.

Joris wanders into the one place that was still open, a little bakery that was run by the older couple that lived there and they had a grandson who lived not too far off from the airport. The roads were cleared down there but they had no car.

The couple happened to be closing up for the night and on the way to their grandson's, the older woman took a liking to Joris, holding his arm as he led her over to their car.

"Charles!" Joris shouts, waving his friend over. Andrea and Charles wandering over. "Yeah?"

"This is Maria, she and her husband are on their way to grandson's, who lives like-" "He lives five minutes from the airport, let us take you."

"Are you sure?" Charles asks her, as much as he wants to get home, he wouldn't want to put a sweet old woman out of her way.

The woman pinches Charles's cheek, "yes please, I cannot leave you out in the cold. Come, come." She tells him, Andrea helps the older gentleman put all the luggage into the trunk, the 5 of them getting into the car - Charles, Joris and Andrea squished into the backseat again.

The older gentleman, Joe, was just as sweet and welcoming as his wife. They told them stories from when they moved there, how they opened their bakery and their family. As much as Charles appreciated their kind gesture, he was wondering if maybe he should have offered to drive them to the airport.

At some point, an excruciatingly long 3 hour drive - Joe drove slower than most, they made it to the airport.

Maria rolls the window down, saying goodbye to Joris. The photographer holds her hand as she calls for Charles. "Make sure you come back! And bring your girlfriend."

"We will, thank you both so much. I don't know what I can do to repay you."

"Take us to the race next year," Joe calls from next to his wife. Charles laughs, "sounds good, I'll come back and bring your passes."

The 3 of them run into the airport, the boards in front of them display only one word listed to all of the flights - canceled.

Big, bold, red letters crush Charles's heart and his chances of getting home.

Joris pats his friend's shoulder, Andrea already one step ahead of them trying to see if they were anything they could get on to make it home in time - after all, he wanted to get home to his family too.

It's an hour of Andrea bickering with the very tired and annoyed woman behind the counter before Charles joins him, asking her if there was anything they could get on to go home.

The flight to France was 2 hours, he'd manage anything at this point.

"There's one flight, a small passenger plane. I'd have to ask the pilot first."

"Please," Charles says, "I'll pay extra if I need to."

After what felt like another hour the woman finds them and tells them to follow her; she checks them in, getting their passes to them before directing them to where they'd meet the pilot for their flight.

When she said it was a small plane, Charles was expecting small but not this small.

The plane looked like those water planes you'd take from the mainland to an island - it didn't hold more than 6 people.

Charles is just clinging to his seat, counting down the minutes until he can get off that plane. He feels his ears pop, the thud as the plane meets the runway in Nice and he's thanking every god out there for that. They thank the pilot, trying to figure out if they should take the train or just drive home.

None of them have a car at the airport and thank god, it wasn't snowing.

It was Christmas morning, the airport was a madhouse and Charles didn't typically do this but he did use his F1 status to get them a rental, he signed a few autographs for the staff behind the counter and they were off again.

The sun is peeking over the Monaco pier, Andrea drove them home because Charles was too antsy to drive. They dropped him off first.

"Thank you guys, really." He says, standing on the curb with his suitcase.

"We didn't have a choice," Joris tells him jokingly, Andrea nods. "Tell y/n we said Merry Christmas."

"I will," Charles smiles, wishing his friends well before waving them off.

It was good to be home; the man made his way up to your shared apartment, the lights off as you were still sleeping - your soft snores filling his ears as he quietly made his way to the bedroom.

You're tucked away under the covers, the blanket wrapped you up and kept you warm during a lack of Charles in bed. He knew you were a deep sleeper, the fact that he had accidentally slammed the door and it hadn't woken you was sign enough.

He stripped out of his clothes, making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. At some point he thought he heard you shift, he peeked out the door way to find you still sleeping.

Charles joined you in bed shortly after, his arm snaking around your waist, the coldness from the bracelet he had on startled you. Your body responded before you could, taking a second to gather your thoughts - the fight or flight kicking in.

He presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, the smell of his cologne and toothpaste filled your surroundings. "Charles, you're home," you whispered, turning to face the man.

You couldn't fully believe it, not after his call last night, telling you that he wouldn't be making it home.

Your boyfriend smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'm here."

"How?" You mumbled, moving closer to him. Charles's hand presses to your back, rubbing the bare skin softly. "It's a long story, for another time."

You hum, not really caring for the story at the moment. All that matters is that Charles was home and he was home for Christmas. You opened your eyes slightly, peeking at your boyfriend. Both of you wore the same sleepy look - you having just woken up and Charles after a long night of traveling.

You kissed his chin, the man hummed in response. You follow the structure of his face, moving from his chin to his jaw and up to his sideburns, down his cheeks and finally to his lips. Charles pulls you flush against him, his lips holding your hostage.

It had been a long week apart and you both missed each other terribly. Andrea often says you two are like high school kids, all young and in love.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, pulling the man on top of you. Charles settled himself between your hips. Your boyfriend pulls away from your lips, much to your dismay and finds himself moving down to your neck, along your collarbones and to your chest. Now propped up on your elbows, you watch as your boyfriend's head dips, his teeth softly grazing your stomach on his way to between your legs.

Charles glances up at you and pulls your panties to the side. He was close enough that you could feel his breath on you, your head dropping back when his tongue finally met you.

You look down at your boyfriend between your legs; the man smiling up at you as his arms hook your thighs to pull down flat on his face. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. Charles’s hand on your hip rocks you back and forth slightly, just enough that he can hear his name fall from your lips. 

Your hand rests on his cheek, “I can't believe you're home.” Your eyes meet his blue ones. 

“I'm right here, baby.”

You pull him back down for another kiss. Charles’ hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressed to your clit. Your back arches from the sudden touch, moaning against his lips. 

Charles smiles, his heart fluttering every time knowing he’s the one that reduces you to nothing more than a whimpering mess. 

“Please,” you pull on his hair, “Charles.” 

“What?” He asks, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

You can’t help the whimper slipping past your lips. “Fuck me, please.” You ask sweetly and how could he ever say no to you? 

Charles finds himself moving to hitch your leg on his hip, lining himself up with you before pushing into you. Your back arches and he gives you a second to adjust to him before moving. You’re biting your lip so hard, you probably drew blood.

Your hand drags down his torso, pressed against his toned stomach when you speak. “You feel so good,” you whisper, knowing you can’t speak any louder.  

“Yeah?” He calls, hand slipping between the two of you. 

Your red nails, painted for the holidays, digging into his skin, leaving matching red marks matching the colour of your nails against his pale skin. “Fuck- please yes.” 

Charles doesn’t quit; his fingers rubbing on your clit, the other hand moving your leg from his hip to rest over his shoulder. Just when his ego couldn’t get any bigger, it did. The 16 hanging off the silver chain around your neck, sitting flat against your sternum. 

He can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to it, in the process pushing your leg back. The sound that left your mouth was nothing if not music to his ears. 

The sudden ego boost, Charles takes his chance to ask you. “Who makes you feel this good, amour?” 

You’re trying to answer him but between keeping the same position and his excruciating pace, you couldn't bring yourself to answer him. 

Charles asks again. “Who makes you feel this good, amour ?” 

A strangled answer slips past your swollen lips; “You, only you Charles.” 

The answer satisfies his ego, his focus is making you cum. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, your boyfriend has now moved your other leg over his shoulders. 

“Charles-” you call, your eyes meeting his. He can feel the way you’re clenching around him, his hand moving back to your clit. 

“I know,” he hums, “me too.” 

A few more sloppy thrusts and both of you fall over the edge, one after the other. Charles kisses by your ankle before letting your legs down, settling against you between your legs still. 

Passing a hand through his hair, you smile at your boyfriend; his eyes all droopy and a sleepy smile on his face.

"You're here," you whispered, he nodded and his stubble scratched against your bare skin. "I'm here."

You hum quietly, the sun shining through the curtains in the room, the two of you cuddled up in each other's arms.

"Shall we open gifts?" Charles asks and you shake your head, "they're not going anywhere, let's stay in bed for a bit longer."

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. "I like that idea."

--

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[lowkeyrobin]

Hiii im a chronically ill and disabled person and I was wondering if you could do a Ranboo x gender neutral reader that’s having a doctors appointment (list of things they would do for comfort when reader is fearful of being there?) :3

hi!!! and yes of course I could!! hope you enjoy! sorry if anything seems a little inaccurate bc I took some stuff I already know and used it for this and stuff but everyone's different lmao

RANBOO ; minor nosocomephobia

summary ; you take ranboo to the doctors with you for some moral support

warnings ; language, talk about hospitals/illness, nail biting and nervous scratching

genre ; fluff

word count ; 578

masterlist

he notices you fidgeting around as you're making your way up the elevator, picking at your nails, scratching your wrists, frequently running a hand through your hair, etcetera

they silently rub your shoulder and give you a little comforting nod as you travel down to the office where the nurses were directing you

you guys have to wait like a fucking hour after the nurse checks your blood pressure and does some basic procedures and whatnot

meanwhile they eventually reach into their enormous pockets and pull out a little fidget toy for you

"you better stop picking at your nails before I smack you. slash lighthearted"

he ensures that while he blabbers on about dumb shit, that you at least smile or giggle

he understands that you're nervous and with the long amount of waiting, it doesn't make it any better, delaying it more just makes you more anxious

if your focus strays away from the fidget toy he brought for you, he's got three more don't even worry bro

while the doctor is asking you questions, you keep looking over at them like they're gonna speak for you because you don't know how to answer some of the questions

at one point you have no idea what the doctor meant because the words got jumbled in your head from the anxiety

ranboo quickly answered for you in a heartbeat and apologized, considering they saw you silent trying to think

while the doctor has you do some physical tests to make sure your heart is running at a "you-normal" pace, he's hyping you up

if you have to do a 6 minute walk to track the way your lungs and heart pump blood and give you air to breathe, he's at one end of the hallway quietly shouting compliments and getting you through it with a little less embarrassment

the doctor is confused but supportive of him doing this for you considering they always knew you seemed very anxious around the the hospital and you seemed a little less scared about it

whatever to get you talking a little more could really go the extra mile, they're happy that you found a good way to do that as well, especially with it being a person

if for any reason they need to stick tubes on you or take ultrasounds around your body, he'll let you squeeze his hand all that you need to

they promise you your favorite fast food/takeout afterwards that way you'll try and get through it a little smoother

if you need him outside the room to talk to your doctor, he leaves in a heartbeat, he'll never disrespect your privacy, don't worry

he took pictures of all your medication bottles before leaving since he knew you'd forget to

you guys both messily botch the names while trying to pronounce them and you and the doctor all get a laugh out of it

he writes down everything the doctor says/recommends for you

they talk with the doctor in private for a bit and stuff while you're signing papers and shit

the sigh of relief once you leave 😭 ran literally looks down at you with a "yeah?"

on the way back down to the parking garage you're still fidgeting with the little tangle they'd given you because obviously going to the doctors because you're chronically ill isn't the funnest thing ever

gives you a big hug once you get to the car

"see? you're so brave and awesome"

"well, thanks for coming with me"

[cambria-writes]

hello! happy new year darlings!

im late for rent (though i did send it a good while ago), one and half family members short and shit's fucked lmao. it's been a rough start of the year, but i hope everyone is doing well, staying hydrated and going to bed at reasonable hours!

bit delayed; i had intended on posting this over a week ago, but i'm a chronically ill bitch so shit kinda happened woops

pairing: patrick jane x reader word count: 2,801 rating: M warning: swearing, named afab reader, no y/n, no physical descriptions, reader is still a bit drunk, description of a panic attack, fuck it we're using british/canadian english now, unspecified age gap but it's there, there's kissing in this one!!

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔯

You wake up without realising you’d fallen asleep. Not entirely convinced you drank enough for it, you chalk it up to exhaustion. Blink a few times to clear your vision. Jane is still driving. By the speed, you must be in a residential area. You’re definitely not on a highway, anyways. Try once to ask where you are, but the words come out mangled and completely unintelligible.

“Glad to see you’re back with us.” The comment somehow irritates you. Grunt a few more times before your tongue can form words.

“Mmnnh, sure. Where—where are we?”

Jane frowns like he’s caught off guard by the question. Really? You just asked where you are. Was he just aimlessly driving? Did he forget you were in the car with him? You almost hope so. That probably means you didn’t snore. That would have been… embarrassing. You blink, and the confused expression is gone. Did you imagine it? Are you still halfway asleep? Maybe. You sink deeper into the car seat.

“I’m taking you home with me,” is the answer Jane settles on.

“Clearly not my home. I couldn’t afford a single room in one of these places,” you mutter, resting your head against the window and watching the streetlights go by. Try not to focus on the strange sensation in your stomach at the thought of actually stepping foot in The Patrick Jane’s home. You’re absolutely not thinking about it. Not at all.

When the car slows you can’t even tell the time on the dash. Not sure what woke up; the slowing car or the tension. Jane helps you pull yourself out of his citroen. Your eyes are closed most of the time. There’s keys rattling and a door opening. Immediately you’re hit with… something. A heavy feeling in the bit of your stomach, pressing uncomfortably against your sternum.

Jane whispers reassurances to you while he acts as a human crutch. Guides you to a couch to sit on. Figure it’s probably comfortable, but something about it feels off. You run your hands on the material of it next to your thigh. You’re not sure if you’re surprised that it’s suede and not leather.

The memory of seeing Jane’s murdered family making headlines comes unbidden. Completely uncalled for. You frown and make a vague attempt at growling the words away.

Warmth pulls at your hand. You realise you closed your eyes again. With bleary eyes, look up in front of you. There’s… no one there. Something in your mind begins to wake up. Twist around, with an arm on the back of the couch, to look behind you. There’s nothing there, either, but… but there’s a door. There’s a door half-hidden by a hallway corner. Screw your eyes shut a few times. Was that door there when you came in? Did you even pass through there on your way in?

When you turn back around to settle into the couch, you rest your head against the back of it. There’s no way you drank enough to be this out of it. Try to remember what you had to drink; there was definitely a lot of wine. More than you’d normally drink but… did you accept a drink from someone else? The poor wannabe mafioso boy? Did someone slip something in your—

“Hey, you with me?”

Jane’s voice startles you. Eyes wide, you catch him retracting the hand he’d reached out with. Clear your throat a few times. How far off in your thoughts were you?

“Yeah, uh—sorry. What’s up?”

The way Jane looks at you is unsettling. His eyes don’t seem to be doing more than flick back and forth between your eyes. You know better. Even your peripheral is picking up on his fingers. He’s… is he fidgeting?

“Are you—”

“I was just—”

Suddenly you’re thankful for the alcohol. This would definitely be the type of awkward situation that makes you want to jump off a cliff. Unpleasant. Jane motions for you to continue.

“I was, I wanted to—are you okay?” Wince at how loud your voice is. You don’t even know what time it is but it’s definitely late enough for there to not be a single sound around. Not even a car idling outside.

“Absolutely,” Jane replies easily, without missing a beat. Strange. “The guest room is ready. Do you need a glass of water?”

You can’t help but frown. There’s something just off about his choice of words and the succinctness he’s speaking with. Without thinking much, you just lean forward to let a finger brush against his left hand and.

And—

And you just drop, boneless, back into the couch like something suckerpunched you. You’re trying desperately to compute what just happened. You saw something. You definitely saw that, right? A bloody smile on the wall and—shit, fuck, were those bodies? Corpses? Was there any way you could’ve heard about that on the news? How much attention do you even pay to the news? Would news outlets have even known about details like that? Where on earth—

Somewhere, very far away, you can hear Jane calling your name. Your ears are ringing. There’s a logical reason for this right? Are you just having a belated post-traumatic episode? Are you just using familiar, impersonal imagery to deal with it?

You feel when Jane puts his hands on your knees. You feel it when his hands on your shoulders, shaking. It’s when his hands are on your face, thumbs brushing your brows, that you gasp for air. Slap a hand to his chest but not–not to push him away. You fist your right hand in his shirt and choke on your breath.

“Come on, breathe with me.”

Shake your head. No. You can’t breathe right. Not yet. Every time you blink you see something else. The note on the door–blink. A barren mattress against a wall–blink. A gasket, half the size it should be–blink. An old tube television playing the same tape over and over–blink. Your hand moves from being balled in Jane’s shirt to grabbing at his neck. Maybe, if it’s just a little more–

You close your eyes longer and screw them shut.

It plays like a movie, being sped up every few seconds. Driving through the house. Walking through the door. Put the mail down. Moving the bikes, training wheels and all. Taking the stairs two by two and then–

The note. The done, read quietly, and the slowly sinking realisation. And then the wall, lit with a lamp and the–

Try to blink the images and the–the tears? Blink all of it away. Bent over at the waist and holding onto Jane for dear life. It’s not what I see that’s distressing. It’s everything that comes with it–the shock, the consuming guilt, the rage and obsession. The dangerous edge that’s just under the surface, sharp enough to cut yourself just getting close to it.

He’s killed people, right? Patrick Jane has killed people. That’s the only way to identify the feeling of black sludge down your throat.

The image of the Devil comes to your mind, unbidden. Horns sharp and flames hot and rusting crown at his feet.

Jane tries to get up but tighten your grip on him. The movement jostles you almost painfully. Realize all your limbs are locked; knees trembling and arms shaking with the effort of holding on and holding still.

“Okay, alright,” you hear him say. Makes himself comfortable in front of you on the couch. “I’m not going anywhere. But you need to breathe, Skye. Whatever’s going on can’t hurt you here. You’re safe.” Slowly moves your hand to rest your fingers on his pulse. Steady, quicker than it should be, but thrumming. Constant.

He repeats a litany of reassurances, says to focus on his voice. The lights are too bright. Your eyes burn. Your throat burns. It hurts to breathe deeply. Try to pace your breathing with his heartbeat. Lose count of how many cycles you do like that.

“Tell me five things you touch,” you hear Patrick say. Safe enough.

“Dress,” you rasp, trying to flex your fingers. “The c-the couch.”

“Good. Keep going. What else can you feel?” The calm in his voice is almost maddening.

“Your–the–your shirt.” Cough once. Twice. Try to breathe deeper. “Your skin. The floor–under my feet. The floor.”

A thumb runs over my left brow. That shouldn’t feel as calming as it does.

“Good girl. You’re doing good,” Jane whispers. Something in his tone makes a shiver rip through your spine into your skull. “Give me four things you can see.”

Choke on the inhale. Only move your eyes. “The window. The coffee table. The fern. The…” You trail off, letting your eyes come back to the man in front of you. “You. I see you.”

“Perfect. Three things you can smell.” When did he move his hand? Why is he brushing hair away from your eyes?

“Dust,” you whisper. You try to add humour to your voice but it falls flat. Desperate. “The wine I drank. You.”

“Good girl. You’re almost there.” Is he… is he closer? “Two things you can hear.”

You exhale loudly and hope it conveys annoyance. There’s fucking nothing do be heard.

“My breathing, I-I guess.” All at once, it’s like the tension leaves your body. You let your head fall forward, rest your forehead against his. “You.”

“I’m going to start discounting that as an answer,” Patrick says, and you can feel the chuckle rumble between you. “One thing you can taste.”

You don’t let yourself think before you angle your head up an inch–the most movement you feel capable of, limbless as you feel. And kiss his forehead. Jane stays stone-still in front of you when you lick your lips.

“Am I still allowed to say y–”

All at once he crowds into you, forcing you to unfold, lean back into the couch. One knee propped next to your hip, one hand on the back of the couch and the hand at your cheek pulling you in.

But he stops just close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips.

The only thing you can hear really is both of your breathing, laboured and unsteady. Neither of you move; your hand grasping at his shirt trapped between you and your other at his jaw.

“You,” you whisper, taking a chance to break the silence. “I taste you.”

Jane keeping his silence for several interminably long moments. You can’t tell if it’s your heartbeat you can feel drumming through your arms or if it’s his.

“You’re impossible,” is all he says before taking his hand off the back of the couch and crushing his lips to yours.

You sigh through your nose and the rest of the tension leaves your body. You feel like you’re floating. It’s just a press of lips–nothing untoward, nothing explicit. But the way Patrick cards his fingers through the back of your hair has you feeling like you’re floating. Curl an arm around his neck to run your fingers through his hair in return.

Of course it’s fucking soft.

When Jane pulls back–slowly, like you’re a wounded animal ready to run at the first sign of movement–you try to follow. The squeeze of a hand at the back of your nek has you stay put.

“You need to sleep this off,” he says, and you resent how unbothered he sounds. Make a discontent sound at the back of your throat, which he has the gall to god damn scoff at. “You’re drunk and you just had a panic attack, Skye. You need to sleep.”

You sigh again and stare resolutely, though half-lidded, at a point beyond his right shoulder. You feel absolutely drained.

You weren’t exactly in full possession of your faculties earlier, and though you’re significantly less panicked, it feels like your skull is full of cotton. Everything seems to pass through like air.

“Not alone,” is the one condition you provide. You hope it sounds like it’s non negotiable. Because it isn’t. Falling asleep alone in this house, with all its windowed walls, would have been unnerving enough.

“Okay,” Jane says, after a second. “Can you stand on your own?”

Though you can, after being given the space to do so, you have to lean against him to actually walk.

“I think I was drugged,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on your feet. “I can’t think.”

Jane hums, but doesn’t offer any more of an answer than that. If you could just fathom the roads of your thoughts into a map, maybe you could figure out what that’s supposed to mean. You can’t, so you let it go. You’re slowly escorted to a double bed with the sheets peeled back. When Jane sits you down at the edge of the bed, it takes most of the energy you have left to turn around.

His fingers are warm when you feel them at your back, but they don’t move. You’re about to ask what’s wrong–or at least why he stopped–when you hear Jane pull away, followed by the rustling of clothes.

Your heart jumps into your throat and stays there.

“What are you–” You get cut off when arms circle around you and drape a very familiar button down across your front.

All you can think of is that it smells almost unbearably like him.

Warm hands are at your back again, and this time the zipper is slid down. Jane brushes the straps of your dress down your shoulders before stepping back again.

“You step out of your dress after you’ve put the shirt on,” he says quietly. “I’ll turn around until you say.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. Okay. Sure. Modesty. This is normal. This is what normal people who are adults and not in a relationship do. This is fine.

God, when was the last time literally anything was fine?

You swallow past the lump in your throat and slip the straps off your arms. Loop them into the sleeves and button the shirt from your sternum down. Sit on the edge of the bed properly and tug your dress off your legs from beneath the shirt. Keep your eyes on the floor the entire time.

“I’m–you’re good,” you stutter, playing with the edge of starched sleeves. And lift your eyes.

You absolutely refuse to look too closely at why your stomach feels like it’s doing its best impression of the Cirque du Soleil and immediately look away. It’s hard to breathe again.

This is what normal people who are adults and not in a relationship do. This is fine.

Jane says nothing as he walks up to you. Leans over to pull more of the comforter down, and you fixate on the nearest collarbone. He straightens only to place a hand on your shoulder and one at the back of your head–guiding you down until your head meets the pillow. Carefully gathers your legs and tucks them underneath the comforter.

His eyes don’t leave yours the entire time.

He only turns around once he’s brought the sheets up past your chest, and moves to the corner of the room to grab a chair. Brings it next to you when you lay in the bed.

“You can’t–Jane there’s no way I’m making you sleep in a chair in your own house,” you start to argue, trying to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“I’d keep you awake,” is the answer he offers. There’s nothing to read in his tone or his face, again. Just a blank statement that you’re perfectly at liberty of interpreting however you want.

“I’m in a bed I’ve never been in before in a house where…” You trail off. The fog in your head might be so thick you’d need a chisel to cut through it, but even now you can tell that bringing up murder is a bad idea. “In a house where I feel like a fish in a tank.”

Jane exhales sharply, akin to a laugh, but lets his hand rest on the pillow next to your head.

“You won’t be alone,” he says calmly. Knowingly. Bite your lip and turn to your side, to face him, and carefully put your hand in his.

It’s nice, for some reason. Seeing your hand in his. Seeing his dwarf yours.

“Sleep, Skye.” Jane settles into his chair, lets his head rest against the back and lets his other arm rest in his lap. Closes his eyes. “You can tell me everything in the morning.”

You huff–annoyed, confused, amused–but close your eyes, too.

And if you don’t dream of anything, when your heart finally calms down and you can finally slip into unconsciousness. It may have something to do with the warm body you wake up wrapped around in the morning.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

let me know if you'd like to be tagged for the next update :)

@fucklife-or-me @newavenger @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun

[allylikethecat]

ally!!!!! i’ve always loved You Know Where the City Is but wow this is the best chapter by far! like i’ve gone from obsessed to mega ultra double obsessed. everyone talking about wrapping fic!matty in a bunch of blankets and feeding him some soup is so real- you always manage to make the most cozy sweetie pie characters no matter what the fic is about. (it goes without saying that fic! taylor much like the real deal is just perfect and i love her)

counting down the chapters till we meet fic!george. so intrigued to see how there relationship will play out since you said it might not be what we expect…. love a good surprise!!!!

im practically bursting with excitement to read the christmas fic and any of the prompts you have been working on but good things take time! please don’t feel rushed to give us new content you already do so much for the sickfic matty community lmao.

hope you have a happy holiday break🥹 sending love always (also don’t be alarmed if i reblog the majority of your prompts on here soon- i have such a bad habit of liking a fic and then scrolling past it once i’ve read it so i need to go back and hunt for them all and actually save them for next time)

Ahhh thank you SO MUCH for this lovely ask omg, and thank you so much for always being so lovely, and kind and supportive 🥰 I apologize this took me a few days to respond to- I usually try and respond to asks on my laptop because I find them easier to formate and alas I had not been back on desktop Tumblr until now.

I'm so, so, so happy to hear that you enjoyed the newest chapter of You Know Where the City Is! I went back and forth on that chapter a lot (an original draft included a trip to Target lol) but I'm really pleased with how it came out and am glad that other people like it as well! Fictional!Matty (and Fictional!Taylor) could REALLY use a hug oh my gosh. They are both going through it and the worst part is they don't even realize how unwell they all 🥺 Fictional!George will be making his appearance very soon! All I can say is that Fictional!Matty is an unreliable source of information 👀 I hope people end up liking how it plays out!

I'm so excited about the Holidays fics but WOW I hope I can actually finish them in time! I haven't even finished the first one yet and I feel like the holidays are getting closer and closer faster and faster 😩 one second is was the beginning of November and now suddenly it's the end of December?! Who allowed this to happen!? I'm behind on the little schedule I made for myself- but hopefully I'll get them both done! Of course my plot bunnies are like "ummm Ally we have all the inspiration for this completely unrelated project!!!" and I'm over here like "not NOW"

We will hopefully be back to our regularly scheduled prompt fulfillment and sickfic programing after the holidays! I'm sorry about the delay, I know people are looking forward an end of SATVB / IV situation fic and I promise I am working on one!! Alas I have just also been really busy with real life.

Thank you so much for the love and I hope you have the most wonderful holidays as well! If you're ever looking for all of the prompt fills I have filled - they can be found here!

Thank you so much again for your kind words, for reading my fics and for your support! You are just so lovely and I am so grateful for your kindness! I hope you are having a wonderful night / day and will hopefully have some more fic ready soon!

❤️Ally

[madaraism]

Hestia - Part V of Himeros

Ἑστία ; Of family, the home, domesticity and the state.

A/N: We’ve reached halfway! Thank you so much for the ongoing love and support for this series – I still can’t believe I’ve made it so far myself. Please read the previous parts here:

Part I – Himeros // Part II – Algea // Part III – Aletheia // Part IV – Apate // Part VI - Achlys

Summary: The damage done in one year can sometimes take ten years to repair, let alone the damage done in four.

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Rating: Mature           Trigger Warning: Sensitive topics regarding pregnancy.

Words: 7023

Inspirations for this chapter – Naked by James Arthur

Tag List: @hhiggs @theroyalweisme @itzmequeenb @alicars @cocomaxley @blackcatkita @trianiasti @viktoriapetit @umccall71 @topsyturvy-dream @kawairinrin @jayjay879 @bobasheebaby @choiceswreckedme @queencatherynerhys @laniquelove @philiasperanza @hopefulmoonobject @mfackenthal @hellospunkiebrewster @boneandfur @gracepedia @jared2612 @jamielea81 @ashtonmore @alwaysmychoices @hamulau @alwaysthebestchoice @pbchoicesobsessed @creatingjana @morriganswife

“…I only need you, Mom.”

Embarrassed, shame and guilt.

It is an odd mixture of emotions, but Riley feels every single one of them so strongly. Her heart clenches and she can feel her insides do countless flips. She is almost unwilling to look at Liam who stands a few steps behind her.

She wants to get angry at Levi, but she can’t bring herself to.

He sits so innocently in front of her, mindlessly reading, flipping the page every now and then, his finger following the words as he reads.

“But Levi,” Riley starts, her voice is small and weak, breaking at the end of his name, “Liam is your dad…”

She feels like she is almost pressuring the boy, to force him to accept the idea of another man coming into their lives so suddenly, so abruptly.

But he is reluctant and refusing; building a brick wall to protect himself from the very idea. His finger pauses on the page again, gaze remaining on the book itself, unmoving, before he finally looks up at Riley after a moment of contemplation.

“…You’re my mommy because you were with me the whole time…” Levi pauses, his eyes moving back down, “If he is my daddy then why wasn’t he with you? Or me?”

Every word that he utters hits her like arrows through her very being.

And Riley questions her every motive, her every action that she has done since the day she decided to leave Cordonia. Her heart is heavy and she can barely feel the air entering and leaving her lungs, her body is shaking and she cannot control the tears rolling down her face as she stares at her son.

Oh, my poor Levi.

My poor, poor Levi.

…What have I done?

She has unknowingly broken Levi by creating their own little bubble in a bustling city. One that was self-maintained, self-sufficient and self-caring. The outside world didn’t matter to her as she took each day as an almost impossible hurdle and she had unknowingly passed that on to him.

The guilt she has is immeasurable. It weighs her down like anchors in the ocean. She struggles to breathe; her voice and sense of self has lost all meaning.

All that she wanted to do was to protect him, to give him a life full of happiness and laughter.

She thought leaving Cordonia would be the right way – the only way to achieve this. Yet here they are, a crying heap of a mess on the cold floor once again.

Was it the wrong choice?

She finds herself hugging his small figure, eyes clenched shut with her mouth open in silent agony. Levi sits there, taking it in as he always does, his arms trying their best to wrap themselves around his sobbing mother.

His words come out automatically.

“It’ll be okay, Mom. It’ll be okay. I’m here…” His voice is quiet and he lets her cry.

Mature.

Brave.

But oh, so burdened.

Liam’s jaw is clenched. His lips are trembling as he watches the scene unravel before his very eyes.

He feels his stiff body come loose, moving on its own to be next to Riley and Levi. He collapses onto his knees as he brings the both of them close into his arms, into his chest. He had wanted to respect their bond as mother and son, to respect his son’s wishes and allow him the time to get used to him as a father, but to see his son…

To see such a small boy who is nearly five, taking on the role as an adult, as the protector, as the nurturer…

His chest is tight.

His arms, strong and toned, hugs them closer, wanting to keep the two of them safe.

His chest is heaving.

His tears reflect the guilt that he feels; the guilt of his absence that caused this to happen, the pain in his body constricting his lungs as his mind counts the number of times that this scene could have possibly played in this very apartment – perhaps even in this very spot.

How broken Riley must be.

How often something like this must’ve happened for their son to be so calm and nurturing in such a traumatic situation.

And Liam thinks of how much of a failure he is as he weeps with them.

Failure as a King who has unknowingly pushed the love of his life away with his titles and rules.

Failure as a ruler who could not produce an heir with his lawful Queen.

Failure as a lover who could not protect their other half from countless scandals and lies and from the cruelness of the world.

Failure as a father who could not provide his son a joyous, caring and nurturing start to life.

And for what?

For duty?

But at what cost?

He recalls the night that he told Riley about Constantine and Regina pushing for an heir.

He recalls himself avoiding her eyes, avoiding the topic of leadership, of ruling, of duty and of abdication.

He would’ve abdicated in a heartbeat if she asked him to.

But he didn’t even give her the chance.

…A child should not be in a position to look after an adult. Ever.

Yet his son. His own son, not even five…

Levi is a child leading a broken adult.

Riley is strong in the face of the world, but behind closed doors she will let the tears slip. She will let the pain envelop her in silent, private moments, no matter how secret, no matter how hidden, it was at the expense of Levi.

Liam’s lips still tremble as he tries to bite back his tears. He had to be strong; if not for himself then for Riley and Levi.

He uses his touches and caresses to soothe Riley – it was one that he realises when he looks down at his son, that Levi does as well. Their hands rub in the shape of an oval along Riley’s back – mimicking, mirroring, in their nature.

Her tears have stopped but her breath still stutters as she tries to calm herself. She swallows, a whimper escaping her lips as she tries to be strong.

As if it is a routine, Riley looks into Levi’s eyes, almost as if she’s searching for something. When she sees his gentle smile, she feels slightly relieved. “I’m sorry, Levi…”

She means to apologise for crying, to apologise for not telling him about Liam, for not being able to give him the best start in life because of how things happened between them. Her apology seemed simple. Small words with such a heavy meaning behind it.

Levi just grins, his voice is sheepish. “My book is all wet, Mom.”

Riley’s smiles as she rubs the clinging tears away from her lashes, “Well, we can go to the library and-”

“I…” Liam starts, his hands now by his side. “I got Levi something.”

His walk over to the dining table is brisk and he comes back with a book which he places it on Levi’s lap.

“…The Little Prince…” Levi reads; he is fluent but requires the aid and guide of his finger. His love for reading has allowed his skills to surpass other children of his age.

Riley nibbles on her lip when she sees the title and she shoots a worried look over to Liam; she hopes – she begs that he wouldn’t tell him just yet. It was too soon, too big of a change.

“It is a fantastic novella, so beautifully written. It tells of different messages and morals for the reader.” Liam is fond of the book, Levi can tell.

The boy is almost shy as his eyes trails over the cover of the book, instead of meeting his father’s face.

He mumbles out of the politeness that his mother has taught him, “Thank you…”

And Liam feels his heart become warm at the small sign of acceptance; a long journey to go, he knows, but a small win paves a way for a bigger victory.

“I can read it to you… at bed time if you would like…?” Liam is hesitant in his words, his voice slow, testing.

But the distance is still there. The awkwardness, the unfamiliarity, the fear of stepping into the unknown…

His son shakes his head ever so slightly – he is quiet again, a hand clutching onto the hem of his mother’s shirt.

Riley smiles gently and tries to reassure Liam, “Maybe later? We’re still working through Matilda at the moment…”

Liam gives a curt nod, his eyes still lingering on Levi. He is so desperate to shower him with love, with his hugs, with his knowledge and countless stories of his life, his life with Riley, his life as a prince, his life in Cordonia and as their King…

So many stories he wants to tell, so many words of wisdom, places to show his son… his kingdom… their kingdom.

He feels the tug at his heart again as Riley picks up Levi to go about their nightly routine in preparation for bedtime. Liam’s eyes follow their every move.

He is so envious of the connection that Riley has with Levi but also so admiring and in awe; the way that Levi rests his head on Riley’s shoulder, eyes drooping; the way Riley would press kisses to his cheek, her fingers running through his hair.

Liam sees how the two of them are so fluent and in tempo with each other, how the world revolves just around them in the bubble that they have created, and he sits there. His presence alone is like a sharp knife or an ever-curious cat, peering and prying, trying to find a way in, to burst that metaphorical bubble.

His brain is muted after the stress of events from today. A blank, quiet void.

He finds himself in front of the bookshelf – books upon books sandwiched together, most of them old and worn out like they have managed to survive through countless of garage sales. Their binders torn but still somehow serving as a solid skeleton for its pages, hanging on by just a thread. There are picture books and there are short novels for children, and Liam wonders just how many of these has Riley read to Levi, and how many of these can Levi read by himself.

He discovers a photo album and he pours himself over each page, drinking thirstily over the lost moments. He sees pictures of his son as a newborn and pictures of him achieving various milestones; clasping his tiny fingers around Riley’s index; holding his own bottle as he drinks while he peers curiously into the camera; his son crawling along the floor to reach a toy; his first steps without any support; him reading so calmly and at peace with himself at what looked like a public library and a recent one, where Levi sits in the middle of bath time bubbles with a displeased frown on his face.

Liam is silent, losing himself in a series of thoughts that are less than coherent. His eyes are unblinking but he knows he is crying.

And he is so unbelievably sad.

Sad at how Riley took on herself this entire journey for the sake of protecting him when it should be him protecting her and their son.

Sad at how he will never be able to rewind to retrieve and witness these moments as if he was there. Never to share laughter and pride at the things Levi has said or has done.

Sad at how his role as King has chained him into doing something that he would regret for the rest of his life, tormenting him each waking, breathing moment. Knives in his heart when he would remember Madeleine and Regina breathing down his neck to remind him of his duty to his country.

And the guilt.

Oh, the guilt.

“…I took those with the hope that if you ever found out about Levi, or Levi ever asks about you when he is older… that you would want to know everything about him.” Riley speaks from behind him, her voice quiet and gentle.

Levi must be asleep already.

He turns to look at her, a sombre expression on his face.

He places the album down and steps in, his hands on either side of her face as he presses his lips to hers.

He isn’t quite sure how to express what he feels in words, so he tries to translate his thoughts through his kiss.

Liam’s lips are slow against Riley’s. So soft and so gentle, tenderly moving against hers whilst his brows furrow in mixed sadness and frustration. His thumb, sweeping across her cheek repeatedly. His heart is heavy and so full of guilt, he feels almost undeserving to be kissing her.

Undeserving to have missed her presence, to have her body against his and to have her kissing him back.

It is an innocent, intimate moment.

His breath is shaking when he pulls away. His body shudders against her touch and he pulls her closer into his arms to steady himself.

Liam’s eyes are half-lidded and laced with tears. His eyes are full of sadness, remorse and a strong sense of guilt. When he speaks, his voice is broken.

“Riley, I… I apologise that I was not a good enough King to protect you.” He swallows, pausing, thinking. “I apologise that I could not have been a better father for Levi. That I wasn’t there to be with you every second of the way for the past few years.”

She wants to speak, but he stops her.

In every single way, he is still hurt from her words earlier when they were in Central Park.

But truth never promised to come sugar-coated. It never promised it wouldn’t hurt to hear.

He is still hurt and angry for missing out on Riley’s pregnancy and Levi’s upbringing, but he understands her reasons for leaving Cordonia, as upsetting and difficult it may have been for the both of them.

His voice lowers even further, eyes now focusing on anywhere but her own, “And I’m sorry… for what happened with Tariq, with Madeleine… Regina and my father’s expectations… I’m so sorry for not being able to do anything and for putting you in such a position, my love…”

He feels himself break before her. His nostrils flare and his jaw is squared as he forces his eyes to remain open, letting the tears blur his vision.

And she feels herself break at his words. Her hand is against his own cheek, mirroring his own. Her fingers caress his peppered stubble and her thumb reaches up to wipe away fleeing tears.

“I never once blamed you, Liam. You are king, but you are not God.” Riley forces him to meet her gaze, and the regret that she sees in his eyes makes her weep for him.

“We were put in an uncompromising situation that we both hated and yes, it was hell. Yes, things aren’t how we would like it to be, but I never, ever, once blamed you. We can’t help that shit happens but I never blamed you and I never stopped loving you, Liam.”

A broken smile; but she can see her words mending him slowly.

She treasures his presence around her and the feeling of his lips meeting her forehead. His voice is soft and she smiles at the warmth of his words.

“…I never stopped loving you too, Riley Brooks.”

-

Over the next few days, they enjoy and relish in the company of each other, but they are cautious and slow at the freedom presented.

Their familiarity was of hushed, heated and stolen moments, but now their lives is at their own liberty and choice.

The moments they spend on Riley’s uncomfortable couch is civil as they reminisce over the past years with wine. With the topic of a secret son and attempts to reproduce an heir off their shoulders, they explore other conversational topics.

They discuss of their current relationship in each other’s lives and where they stand with each other now that Madeleine is out of the picture.

And Liam shares his hopes of Levi accepting his role as crown prince; a future that they share together as a happy and loving family, one where Riley is able to stand by his side in public, hand in hand, to be able to share loving glances at each other without secrecy, for her to stand by his side and rule together as Cordonia’s King and Queen.

He shares how Levi’s role in Cordonia will provide stability in his country, and while it may seem so unbelievably unreal at the moment, it can be so easily achieved if Riley were to leave with him back to Cordonia with Levi.

It seems almost like a farfetched utopian dream for Riley.

So simple, so easy, yet so unrealistic.

She has grown since the time she worked at the bar as the server for Liam’s then-bachelor party.

The years of endless trials and hardship has hardened her, the scars that she carries in her heart, the dirt in her name and Levi’s very presence and upbringing a repercussion of her childish naïvety back in the day, in a time where she believed she was stuck in some dead-end job.

She still was, of course.

Job after job, shift after shift, but Levi’s presence and future gave her the power to fight, to endure and as something to persevere for.

Riley shares with him these worries that serve as a reason for her not wanting to return to Cordonia. His country may need the stability, but so did she. She did not suffer for the past five years of her life and all of Levi’s four to be swept off by some sugar-coated words of a prince or some noble again, she decides.

She tells him that for the time being, she wants to keep their relationship with a sense of normality. She tells him that she will still be attending her jobs for the time being as a form of safety net in case anything happens.

She cannot be Queen whilst Tariq is still unwilling to admit to his crimes, she reasons, and she is doubtful and unconvinced of her ability to rule the country that Liam so loves.

Riley had once thought she was capable of being Queen, but when Levi was born and she sees the complications of it all, the difficulties, the rumours, the lies and the endless mind games for political advancement… she questions if she is proficient, if she is skilled enough and if she would ever be ready to face it all again – especially when her predecessor was Madeleine, a well-bred, natural Queen.

Riley has hardened with the reality of her life but also broken from the terrors of it all; it was something that she had accepted when she became his mistress, when she fell pregnant with his child, when she decided to leave Cordonia.

So, she had made a promise to herself when Levi was born.

She promised herself that she would not return on some whim, on some love-sick spell that Liam could so easily cast on her.

That she would not leave the safety of her small apartment in New York unless Levi himself knew what was going on, knew clearly who he was and what it meant to be a future ruler.

That she would not leave her safe haven of America for the ruthless battlefield of political drama in Cordonia unless Levi wanted to.

Liam, despite being saddened by the conditions that Riley draws, is understanding of where she comes from. He reassures her time and time again that she would always be a great Queen – she has proven herself to be more than worthy and capable countless times. He reassures her that Bastien will handle her situation with Tariq, and he reassures her that he will love and care for both her and Levi.

He is so desperate for his wish of the three of them being together, in Cordonia. For the three of them to admire the beauty that is his home and country, to love Cordonia like how he does and to understand the impact they could have on his country and the many lives within.

But Liam is also understanding and reasonable. He tells Riley that he will lengthen his stay in New York City for just a while longer. He tells her that he will deal with Cordonia by having his paperwork sent over in almost secrecy, for the sake of Levi and Riley. He promises to her that his priorities first and foremost are as a father to Levi, to bond with him and look after him while Riley worked.

Their talks, while genuine and serious can end up being such distractions. Murmurs of ‘I love you’s and ‘I missed you’s in between heated kisses, their touches trailing fire on each other’s skin as they would hold each other desperately on the couch like a pair of love-sick teenagers.

But all of this was met with unsatisfying cold showers.

The chemistry was there, the want was there, the need was there, but Riley would always excuse herself before anything got too serious or crossed any lines.

She doesn’t tell him, but the churn of almost insoluble disgust, disappointment and betrayal still remains in her body when his hands would ever stray too far south.

The thought of him with Madeleine made her scrub herself down in the shower until her skin is bright red.

Much to Levi’s delight and Liam’s understandable dismay, Riley spends her nights in their son’s room.

Liam finds conversation elsewhere and he is so full of interest of his son – his questions about Levi rolling off his tongue like second nature.

She shares Levi’s obvious delight in reading and also in the arts. She shares how whilst he isn’t a clingy child, he is protective, always asking her if she will be okay, if he makes her happy and if she will promise him to smile. She shares how Levi is predominantly a quiet child, but she always notices how his eyes are constantly searching, always observing as if he is analysing and calculating. She shares how blunt he can sometimes be, how he will point out her lies when she tries to tell him she is okay.

She shares to Liam her worries as a mother – thought on if she is doing enough, if she had done the right thing and her worries for his future; not of his role as crown prince, no, she avoids the topic, but more so on how he will view the world. She recognises and admits that his upbringing has been rocky and may not have been the best, but even more importantly, how his temperament and attachment to her has had such a big impact on him when she interacts with someone new. Levi is always cautious in these cases, his eyes constantly peering with distrust as he would cling onto his mother’s leg almost protectively.

And Liam entering into their lives is an evidence of this.

They can see how strongly Levi has stuck to his words of not needing a father. When he is not distracted by his mother, his books or various curious scribbles on scraps of paper, his dark eyes follow Liam’s every move; it didn’t matter what he was doing, he could be cooking breakfast, doing paperwork or simply reading the paper – Levi’s eyes would be on him.

Yet, Liam does notice how as time progresses, Levi would slowly stop pulling Riley away when he talked to her, or when his simple, innocent caresses lingers for a bit too long.

It must be quite different, this change of pace… Liam would wonder each morning when he would drown Riley’s apartment with the aroma of pancakes with the traditional Cordonian twist of apple spice.

He remembers the first morning when Riley and Levi awoke to him gowned in an apron, serving up Cordonian pancakes for the both of them with a breakfast beverage – a simple cup of coffee regular for Riley and a pairing cup of apple juice for Levi. He remembers the reminiscing look on Riley’s face and the ever cautious one on Levi’s. His son was slow to eat the cut-up pieces Riley gives him, but Liam could tell how much he loved it by the way he would stare longingly at the rest of the stack, which Liam would then cut up for him.

Liam had taken on the role of a domesticated father-figure, and he is so pleased with the routine that they have developed.

Each morning, he makes sure to get up before Riley does to pack her lunch and prepare breakfast for Riley, Levi and himself. Depending on Riley’s shift for that day, Liam would bring Levi along, much to their son’s pleasure, to send Riley off for work. It was something that Levi had never experienced before, since he as either ushered into day care or Daniel would look after him.

Levi and Liam would then venture around, exploring local libraries or even Central Park, if Levi’s legs could carry him that far. Liam has offered countless times to carry him, but he has refused, explaining many days later when he would ask again, that he was turning five very soon and that he didn’t need to be carried.

If Riley’s schedule persists, they would meet up to enjoy lunch together. Afterwards, Liam would take Levi home, where Levi would spend some time resting with a book, playing with his toys or doing a drawing, whilst his father would work on the growing stack of paperwork on the very cluttered dining table.

When Riley returns from work, she would be greeted by Liam’s homecooked dinners. Some were a hit-and-miss as he tries out new recipes that would result in Riley needing to order Chinese takeaway. She is both worried and impressed that Liam hadn’t turned the building into rubble. Their dinners would never be void of any wine or fresh flowers and would always be filled with conversations of what they did each day. Riley remembers seeing the sparkle in Liam’s eye when he would share that Levi, despite how unwilling he was at first to accompany Liam anywhere, to have any prolonged conversations with him or respond to his suggestions, helped mix, or helped season the food on the table. And Riley would remember Levi being specific on which dishes he helped to make and would claim it to be the best one on the table.

Her mischievous little chefs, Riley would call them.

And Liam would wash up the dishes, wipe the benches and sweep the floors. He would pack away the toys that Levi has played with and put bookmarks in the books that he hadn’t finish while Riley bathed him. He would join them later when Levi was tucked up in bed, and with Matilda finally finished, Liam took the liberty to begin reading him The Little Prince.

Liam loves how Levi’s eyes would droop to the sound of his voice once he has gotten past a few pages. He admires how his long lashes would flutter when he desperately tries to stay awake to listen to the story. He loves how Levi sleeps on his side, his hands clutching onto the duvet cover to keep himself warm and tucked in. And he admires his gentle breathing when he finally succumbs to sleep, the way his blanket would follow the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Liam treasured these moments so much, that somehow, everything that had happened since Riley’s departure pales heavily in comparison.

He hasn’t had the pleasure to think about or even explore domestic life since prior to Leo’s abdication. He had been so envious of the life that his brother was now living with his wife, that he feels a great sense of pride that he was now experiencing the same thing, even if it wasn’t in an ideal situation. It was pleasant, however, to experience a slice of life that was in some ways, disconnected to the crown and the court.

He admires the effort that he has put in into their current situation. His relationship with Levi was still sometimes rocky, but it was definitely on the improving edge. At times, Levi would initiate simple conversations which Liam would try to pursue it into something longer and at times, Levi would barely utter a word to him. Liam understands the complications of the current situation and how odd it must be for Levi to take in his constant presence into his life in just a few weeks.

He admires how his relationship with Riley was also improving. Her tears are now replaced with laughter and smiles, their hugs and kisses at the door were of happy nature as they were only exchanged when Riley came home from work, and not because he was the one leaving to be with his legal wife.

Their roles were almost reversed from when they were in Cordonia, Liam notes. It was a nice change from all the tears and longing for each other.

Liam is hopeful of their future, at the very least.

But despite the happiness that they shared, they forget that their situation was forged on a temporary basis and that their expiration date was drawing closer with every passing day.

It all begins when Liam was concentrating on paperwork that sat in the depressingly red despatch box. Bastien makes it an effort to bring over his work every other day, filled to the brim with documents that he needed to sign, papers that he needed to stamp, sheets that he needed to approve, or to simply read.

Levi would ask him simple questions over the weeks out of curiosity. When he spoke to Liam or simply just observing over the edge of his book, his eyes would linger on the different parchments of papers, the red and the gold detail, the various stamps that sat within that red box…

They fail to realise that each individual situation affected the outcome, a butterfly effect of events that forced them to remember the elephant in the room – the last, heavy topic that they have been avoiding.

All of Levi’s questions were short and never on the same day.

It starts with Liam’s accent.

Simple, curious and innocent.

The boy points out the way Liam spoke differently, how he pronounced things differently and even at times spoke in a different language.

European, Liam had replied.

“I was born and raised in a small country in Europe called Cordonia.”, were his exact words.

Liam, being interested in sharing his home, would ask Bastien to bring pictures of Cordonia, and he would receive them the next time he delivered The King’s despatch box.

And Liam would take his time over days, weeks to share the pictures. He tries to describe every detail that he knows and remembers.

The saltiness of the air from the Mediterranean beaches, the crunch of sticks and grass beneath his feet at Applewood Manor, the smell of fresh apples and other various apple themed delicacies, the dusty red colour of tiles, the hustle and bustle of street stalls on a busy market day, the colour, texture and shapes of the stones that makes up Cordonia’s town centre, the cool, crisp water that sprouts out from the famous King Fabian statue, the grandness and height of the bell tower…

He shares with Levi the memories that he has of his mother at the Cordonian library in that very town centre; how he remembers her jasmine perfume, the way the wind would ruffle her hair as they sat on the steps of the library and the way she loved and appreciated books like how Levi did.

“It looks like the New York Public Library here.” Levi had murmured while looking at the pictures.

And Liam would grin when he thinks of the similarities. “The stones are a bit darker in Cordonia. Not as white, and certainly not as big. New York is much bigger than Cordonia, you see.”

The next time Levi brings up Cordonia again, Liam had just gotten off the phone and had realised that he was staring at him.

“…You sound like Aunty Hana.” Levi would insinuate, “And that blonde lady who came to speak to Mom. …Are they from Cordonia too?”

And Liam would nod, remembering Riley mentioning about Hana being her main support over the years and of Madeleine’s very brief, very awkward visit.

And other questions would pop up from time to time.

Questions about Riley in Cordonia.

Questions about the oceans and the beaches.

Questions about the weather and the seasons.

Questions about their obsession with apples.

And Liam is happy to see the curiosity in his eyes, happy that he is eager to learn and to ask. When Riley is there, she too, is happy to share her memories of Cordonia.

But Levi has been staring at it for weeks.

The curious red box that sits on the table. That specific and peculiar shade of red that sticks out in their small and bland apartment. The intricate gold designs that looked like it was symbolic for something. And the gold-stamped letters on the open lid, upside down when it was open.

And when he finally notices the lettering one afternoon, Levi turns his head to try and read what it says. His eyes take in the intricate details of the sigil and how the stamped letters sit in the middle at the bottom, close to the edge.

And he reads the golden, bold letters.

THE KING

He remembers blinking.

He remembers thinking how it was possibly some form of toy; yet the seriousness that showed on Liam’s face and the concentration sketched into his brows showed that it wasn’t some play thing.

It was a look that mirrored his mother’s face when she sat in the same chair, sorting and looking through bills.

It happens a few days later when the three of them sit down for dinner, picking at the small, white takeaway boxes from Panda Express.

Liam and Riley chat away, laughing at something that happened at Riley’s work when Levi suddenly speaks.

His eyes are focused on the food in front of him.

“…What’s the difference between a president and a king?”

A pregnant pause.

Liam is the first to speak, and Levi takes in his words – something about a president being voted in by people for a few years while kingship is hereditary, for life, but both serving as a ruler, as a representative of the country they live in.

Another pause, as Levi pushes the food around on his plate.

“…Does Cordonia have a president or a king?”

“…A King.” Liam replies, a sense of calmness in the situation as he moves his hand to hold onto Riley’s shaking one.

She was deathly pale and quiet, holding her breath. Her mind was not working as quick as she would like, and she was still swaying between if she should or should not tell Levi about his roots.

Liam’s grip on her hand tightens in reassurance as Levi finally looks up at him.

His gaze, Liam notes, is calm, predicting and almost expecting of Liam’s next words.

“And I am the King of Cordonia.”

But Liam can also see the storm of unsorted emotions brewing in his son’s body.

“…Is that why it reads ���The King’ on your red box?” Levi asks, his eyes unwavering.

So that’s where he found out.

Liam nods.

Riley was not wrong when she said he was observant for a four-year-old.

­-

Instead of the somewhat usual laughter that night, the apartment was filled with eerie silence.

When Riley and Liam enter Levi’s bedroom, he is quiet, sitting in his bed with The Little Prince on his lap, already flipping through the pages and attempting to read the earlier parts.

Riley is quiet, still lost in her own thoughts. She allows Liam to do the talking.

Liam is calm. He sits on the floor so he is at eye-level with Levi – a simple tactic that he has learnt to use in order to convey that he is on Levi’s side, that he trusts him and respects him.

He explains to Levi that he is the Crown Prince of Cordonia and what having that title means. He explains to him the rules and expectations as crown prince, but he also conveys the joys of being able to create change, to shape the future for the better. He reminds him of the conversations that they have had on Cordonia for the past days and weeks; he reminds Levi how much he said he loved the colour of the beaches, the apple delicacies and the Cordonian library. He reminds him of the time that his mother has spent there and how much she had enjoyed it and made countless friends like Aunty Hana.

And Riley jumps in finally when Levi remains silent. She blurts out words of reason, telling him that it also means meeting people who will not trust him and not love him like how Liam and herself does. She tells him how people will talk behind his back and say mean things, but there will be so many people who will love him if he were to love Cordonia like how he loves her. She tells him that being the Crown Prince of Cordonia will mean that they will be able to spend more time with Liam as a family.

They both reason to him collectively, agreeing with each other that he doesn’t need to accept the role as Crown Prince straight away, or ever, if he chooses. They repeat to Levi what Liam had said over dinner, that it was just a hereditary status, that he can take time to think and consider the role that was given to him when he was born.

Levi is still quiet.

It is a lot to take in.

“We can go back to Cordonia together, and you can decide then if you want to stay, Levi.” Liam says, trying to reassure him.

“And we can come back to America if you don’t want to be there, my love”, Riley mumbles, agreeing to Liam’s words as she squeezes and rubs Levi’s hand out of nervousness, out of love and out of worry.

Levi looks at Riley, then Liam, then back at Riley.

He blinks, then stares at his mother’s hand over his own.

He swallows.

And nods, a quiet “Okay.” leaving his lips.

-

He is reassured, over and over again.

He is hugged, over and over again.

He is kissed, over and over again.

They turn off the light in his room after tucking him into bed, wishing him goodnight.

But his eyes stay open, looking at the flashing lights of a plane so far away in the sky.

He thinks back to the book that Liam had given him and there is a slight frown on his brows.

The slight distrust and questioning returning to his eyes.

The Little Prince…

…The Little Prince.

He thinks back to Liam who had read him parts of the story.

And he remembers the different elements presented, written, drawn and explored in the story. The king with no subjects; the contradicting man; the mindless followers; the materialistic businessman; the lonely geographer…

He wonders how many of these people he will meet – what personalities they would all have, how they would interact with him, with Liam, and with his mother.

He is curious and slightly interested.

He doesn’t fully comprehend the situation, but he is sure of one thing when he recalls the whispered conversation shared between his mother and Liam a few days ago.

“Must you go…?”

“I have to… I need to make an appearance for a while, but I will be back as soon as I can, my love.”

“Levi will miss you… he won’t say it but I know he will. And I’ll miss you…”

“I know, my love. I’ll miss the two of you, too.”

And he remembers recognising the quiet sobs coming from his mother and Levi can still feel the uncomfortable tug at his heart.

He can still feel the uncertainty of his mother’s wellbeing that resurfaced in the twists and turns of his stomach if Liam were to leave. The flashing images that crosses his mind of his mother curled up in bed or on the floor somewhere, hands in her face whilst she cries…

He didn’t care about Liam being a king.

He didn’t care about him being a prince.

But he was determined to protect only one person.

He closes his eyes, wishing for sleep to take him.

Levi doesn’t dare to tell his mother that he only said yes because he could see how happy the man who calls himself his dad made her.

-

“What is the meaning of this?”

Cold, abrupt judgement.

“My statement for the press. She has a son.” She is calm.

A scrunched-up paper meets the carpeted floor.

“I do not care if she has a son. There is no valid proof that he is the descendent of the crown.”

“You are forgetting what age we are in, my dear Aunt. Paternal tests exist.” Short and brash.

“Tests can make mistakes. Results can be forged. You, are Queen.” Calculating. Ridiculing.

“…”, Her green eyes are icy as they narrow just the slightest, “And what would you presume I do with this child of mine?”

The Queen Mother’s eyes gazes at the scenery of the garden outside from the tall window. Her thin lips meet the rim of her teacup.

“Nothing but a tiny obstacle. You should know what to do.”

A pause as she drinks.

“Cordonia will not do with a bastard child as their crown prince, Madeleine. Especially not with that whore of a woman as Queen.”

--

Part 6: Achlys

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

hii!! it's me again ^^ how are you??

may i request an akutagawa x fem!reader (again bc he is my beloved) where aku gets a cold and his s/o takes care of him? but u know how he is when he gets sick (we are so similar tho LMAO pov akutagawa kinnie), but all I want is to take care of him bc he deserves it :(♡♡

tysssm<<333 take care and take ur time with it♡

In sickness and health with him (Ft. Akutagawa)

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairings: Akutagawa X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Format: One Shot

Warnings: None

Word Count: 0.6K

A/n: Im really sorry for the delay Maow. I love you and I just couldn't refuse to do this. hope you like it :>

"I said im fine!"

"And youre obviously lying, so stop arguing with me and lie down already"

You sighed, Filling the spoon with the soup you made for him, and took it near your boyfriends mouth.

"C/mon! Open up"

Akutagawa gave you the "Are you kidding me?" look, but when he saw how your lips curled up into a wide pout and the kindness in your eyes was replaced with a threatening gaze, he decided not to fight with you.

You were even worse than his sister! At least she would let him eat on his own.

Akutagawa was a stubborn man, you knew that and you were more than willing to put up with him since your love for him knew no bounderies, but you weren't going to stand aside and watch him suffer with work, even when he felt really sick. In this kind of situations, you had to become stubborn, just like him.

"Im not a child y/n! I can eat by myself"

"Are you sure? Because youre making everyone around you really worried, and you still need others to look after your health since you don't seem to give a damn"

Now it was his turn to sulk.

He swallowed the soup in his mouth and tried to snatch the bowl from you, but lucky for you, his hand was not as strong as it was before.

"Now youre just being a bad boy"

"Y/n!"

"Ok ok! Im sorry!" You chuckled at his whiney tune, trying not to upset him more than he already was so that he wont feel worse. You didn't like to see him in pain, but there was something about the adorable moments that made your heart melt like a candle. He didn't like to let his guard down around people, but he didn't have any energy left inside him to do so.

He was afraid. Afraid of you deciding to leave him after seeing him vulnerable like this.

Only if he knew how lovable and adorable he actually was whenever he got sick.

Slowly putting the bowl on the drawer, you bended over and got closer to him, surprising him by planting a small, delicate kiss on his forehead.

"What are y- Hey! Youll get sick!"

"But you said that you were fine, remember?"

Yeah, he did.

Your kisses turned into a pattern, following his forehead to his temple, the tip of his nose, his pale cheeks, and finally his chin.

He deserved to be loved. He deserved to be taken care of.

Who could make him feel like that except for you?

The boy was literally melting under your touch. Everytime he sensed your lips on his fragile skin, he closed his eyes, try not to fight the sweet sense that was taking over him, telling him that everything was going to be ok.

He didn't feel cold anymore. Not when your heated lips was burning him.Not with his head on your chest. The secure feeling of your embrace was unfamiliar to him, but perhaps he could get used to it.

"Comfy?" You whispered, while running your fingers through his raven hair.

"Mm-hm…" He mumbled before pressing his head to your chest a little bit harder than before.

You were the one who should have been in his arms. He had to be the one who would have protect you, not the opposite.

"Stop thinking baby, just go to sleep"

"But… I…"

"Shhh… Its ok love. Let me be the one who would take care of you tonight"

Your calming voice and your seet smile found their way to his heart, and filled it with so much love and care.

Ok. Maybe he could let you be the one in charge, just for tonight"

Reblogs are appreciated

[hyunjinspark]

JADE JADE JADE JADE!!! THIS IS SUCH A MASTERPIECE😭😭 I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS TO EXPRESS HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW...

this whole chapter was so beautifully written, you capture all those emotions in such a way that I can picture all of the scenes in my head(except that I keep picturing hyun with black hair😭) BUT just the way you write is absolutely breathtaking, I love this so much😭

But now my thoughts on each of them,

yeonjun, i love him so much. I love the way he was always understanding even when they were young, I'm sorry but he deserves someone better than hana😭😭 the way he genuinely cares about y/n opinion, it feels so nice to see someone genuinely interested in her thoughts, he's just a complete sweetheart🥺

felix, I have no idea what to say about him, but I just hope that y/n stops thinking about "what will yongbok think" behind every action she takes. it just is messing with her more :// like y/n is such a sweet girl and it honestly pains me to see her so sad just because her friends cannot accept the fact that she is paying attention to the one person who's interested in her, not even romantically but just as herself if that makes sense. oh and also, I absolutely despise the way lix hid that he knew about the boy in the store😤😤 but I just hope he grows up lmao

minho, I'm loving the character development hehe,especially since i did bash him about no standing up for y/n a few weeks ago. he's also really kind but ig he doesn't really show it that much but him helping hyunjin out shows that he's super sweet.

and finally, hyunjin, my love... PLS HE'S JUST SO PERFECT😭😭 everything he did in this chapter made me feel so fuzzy like he knows exactly what he's doing(well technically you). just the way you portray him is amazing, like I said, I can absolutely picture all the moves he makes in my head and it's the best thing ever. also I feel so sad that he just cannot act on his feelings because of what's happening in the city, please don't break chan and kairi up, I'm begging you🥺 I don't want hyunjin to stop believing on love if ever they do break up because this is just going to hurt everyone and I'll be sad too😭😭

the event also was just beautifully described, it was amazing, all the little details you added🥺

akdjjs and the kiss, don't even get me started on that. I have to say that a tear did slip out of my eye when that happened. LIKE FINALLY WE'VE BEEN FED. also I was praying to the Lord that seungmin doesn't come back😭🥲, like I said, MASTERPIECE!!

also, I noticed how you said sorry next to the word count, so I wanted to express my undying love for long chapters!! I absolutely ADORE long chapters because for me, the more there is to read, the better I can get lost in the world of fiction and it just makes the whole experience better so do not apologise for long chapters, they're the best😤😤😤

anyway, I wanted to say thank you for writing such a masterpiece🥺🥺 you're doing really great with this and I cannot wait to see how the story proceeds but of course, take care of yourself, eat well, drink lots of water and take plenty of rest!! you've worked so hard❣️❣️

why am i seeing this now !! its for part 11, im sorry for the delay :( but thank you oh my god. thank you for thinking this way. yeonjun has always been so understanding and that flashback was so important to reiterate yn’s life growing up and how her relationship with her friends has been.

im very happy you love hyun, he is such a sweeetheart indeed ☹️ and you’re right, chan and kairi do play a big role in his thoughts and ideas on love and relationship and hopefully…they stay together.

thank you so much for this sweet message. it made my day !!

[shaechans]

boyfriend! jaehyun

the boy: nct’s jung jaehyun

type: headcanon + timestamp

word count: 934

a/n: this is so delayed im sorry:(( but i hope you like it anyway;) jaehyun is 4ever my crush/husband fever dream so most of this is my pov cause im always thinking about bf jaehyun because lets be honest, who isn’t?

okay so this might be a long one, buckle upp

now jung fucking jaehyun here is the EMBODIMENT of boyfriend material and like you cannot disagree

he’s just ugh

well firstly, you’re definitely ALL over him no doubt

but the heartwarming stuff is that he’s ABSOLUTELY WHIPPED for you

like the boy would DO ANYTHING that is to do with you

sure he’s known for being unbothered but he couldn’t be more involved when it’s related to you like ugh ultimate heart eyes

and despite him being lowkey about your relationship, he’d always find ways to brag about you

“lmao y/n would LOVE this track- omg y/n did the funniest thing yesterday- oh and johnny y/n can you get me fruit loops cause y/n wants some-” “jaehyun it’s 4 in the morning, wtf are you doing here?”

cheesy cheesy CHEESY

like you’d have to order pizzas without cheese cause jaehyun’s literally next to you SORRY THAT WAS A BAD ONE

“good morning, how was heaven when you left it?;)))” “jaehyun all i ask is for one normal morning with my toast could you not 😭😭”

will find any and every reason to compliment and tease you

but that’s cause he absolutely adores your pissed off/annoyed expression akhjsjaakk

loves picnics like????? yes????

you feeding him strawberries or pie on a cloudy day on a breakfast mat, jaemples on full display and your heart just 💔💔 peak devastation 💔💔💔

also he just gets so excited to spend time with you i absolutely cannot fucking do this bye-

oh and omg if y’all planned a pinic date and it rained (cue pouty jaehyun;(() then he’d immediately improvise to movie night!!! with the boys!!!!!11!! yay!

sure they can be annoying, but the two of you are always in your own world so donghyuck’s commentary doesn’t really matter

aight PDA!111!!!11!

he LOVES hand and cheek kisses omggomggggg

also butterfly kisses AAAAAAAAAAAAA

eyelid kisses are his favourite for when he’s shy and doesn’t want you to look at his flushed face awwww

and omgomg ikea dates im-

those are honestly the best??? like just the two of you laughing and joking around, acting like you own the house and it’s all fun and games—until y’all “accidentally” run into johnny sigh

sigh i guess i’ll have to stop here before i get in too deep (which already happened but hush)

omg please does anyone want husband! jaehyun cause OH MY GOD

[ 7:39 pm ] resting your feet up on the coffee table in front of you, you glanced at the clock waiting for jaehyun to get home after work. thinking it would be a while till he got home, you switched on the tv, flipping through channels mindlessly when the door opened. you looked up, your expression confused when you heard a “honey! i’m home!!”

turning the corner, you came to face a dimply jaehyun, face a little tired but nonetheless happy to see you. he was quick to engulf you in a hug and a little peck on your cheek before heading to a shower.

until then, you returned to your former place on the couch, munching on a few snacks you rummaged out of the kitchen, waiting for jaehyun to join in a cuddle session. however jaehyun had other plans, running to jump on the sofa, making you flinch and whine at his antics.

“why would you do that jae!!” you whined even more as he pulled you in a little headlock, instigating a wrestle. of course you didn’t say no because now you were not willing to lose. that went on to a heated match on the carpeted floor, with you straddling a red face jaehyun you tickled his sides, waiting for him to admit defeat.

“fine fiNE I SAID YOU WIN” he exclaimed, leaning to his side after you stood up, only to fall on the couch laughing at the poor boy. “okay you can stop wheezing now:(” jaehyun announced sitting beside you, sukling. wiping the remaining tears by your eyes, you leaned forward to hug the boy beside you, pressing a loving peck to his pouty lips.

“you know i love you but you were literally asking for it” “yeah i thought i’d win!! i never knew you were good at wrestling sigh. you could’ve told me we could’ve bet hyuck together that day when he was acting up!!!” he tutted, going on about how you had hurt his pride.

“i’m sorry love but can we just cuddle now, that’s what i had been trying to do before you pounced onto me, asking for war!” you said, pulling a laughing jaehyun to your bed, falling on your back together.

staring at the ceiling, the two of you went on about conspiracy theories and ways to run away from johnny third wheeling almost all your dates. turning to your side, you started at jaehyun and then his hair. ‘damn this boy has soft hair’ you would think, hands reaching up to touch.

“what are you doing love?” jaehyun questioned, voice soft and his eyes closed at your touch. “literally how do you guys manage to keep your hair so bouncy and soft even after a billion rounds of bleach, it’s mind boggling!!” you spoke in amusement, jaehyun chuckling at your random discovery.

“treatment, baby” he muttered, in a state of sleep from you hands playing with his bangs softly. not long later, you could hear his snores and chuckling, straightened his body so he was sleeping comfortably. pulling the blankets on the two of you, you kissed his forehead before sleeping cuddled into his shoulder uwu.

wow was this long?? i’m sorry lmao im a huge jeff stan and i was into the feels so i just went on and on. anyway, requests are open, like always!! so feel free to request!! might post a christmas prompt list as well cause i’m in a christmas mood so let me know if you guys would be interested!!!

[ressyfaerie]

Hi there! I hope I'm not too late for sending in asks 👉👈

Prompt : kai and Bryan having feelings for each other and being pissed off about it.

And you can use the dub names :)

Okay so I actually thought about this one for awhile and added some RESSYFAERIE FLARE so I hope you like it! Lets get these 2 silver boys goin- (disclaimer i know fuckin nothing about guns cause im canadian lmao), also I don’t know much about Bryan’s character (I mean there’s not much to go off of in the anime haha so I hope I get it right!). * are private thoughts! LOTS OF F BOMBS, because apparently I can’t write these Russian fucks without swearing every 5 seconds-

Kai finally admitted it.

He forgot how to shoot.

Obviously- he forgot most things from the abbey, and he preferred to keep it that way, but this one thing-

“I get why you forgot.” Bryan shrugged his shoulders in their Russian training room. “But why do you want to remember?” 

Kai hesitated before answering, “I want to take over the company one day. But I can’t take over a weapons manufacturing company if-”

“You forgot how to shoot a gun.” Bryan completed his sentence for him so he wouldn’t have to struggle. 

“Yeah.” Kai let the word fall like thick tar. 

“We all learned in the abbey, I know that.” Kai was desperate to get these thoughts out.

“Benefits of being a child soldier.” Bryan kicked his legs up and balanced them on a table. 

Kai looked to the side.

“You’re worried about something else, what is it?” Bryan’s dominating attitude never affected Kai, but it was worth a shot. 

Kai simply looked back at him, his classic emotionless stare. 

“Spill the damn beans Hiwatari.” 

Kai sighed, “What if- I remember something when I’m learning.”

“That’s why you can’t have just anybody teach you?” Bryan nodded finally understanding. 

“Yeah. I imagine Boris’ teaching techniques weren’t exactly-”

“Normal?” 

“Ethical.” Kai chose his words wisely, like always. 

“If you stop with that proper speech around me I’ll teach you.” 

Kai’s eyes lit up slightly, “really? I wasn’t expecting you to agree so easily.” 

“Gun range tomorrow. Bright and early. I’ll give you bonus points if you bring one of those new Hiwatari pistols.” 

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Ah,” Bryan shrugged, “Worth a try.” 

-

Kai waited in the range, Bryan was as usual, late. 

“Hey Kai.” Bryan approached with his learned silent walk. Kai jumped slightly when he appeared behind him, “sorry didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Kai rolled his eyes. “You totally did, don’t lie.” 

Bryan gave him that deep growl laugh that Kai liked.

*Wait liked? Did I just think that- For real?*

Inside the range it was dead quiet. 

“I like coming here early, no one is here. Not many people like to play with guns first thing in the morning.” Bryan grabbed a table and moved it closer to one of the stalls as if he owned the place. 

Kai crossed his arms, watching him and absorbing him- his technique. 

*Focus on learning you idiot-*

Kai shook his head to clear his thoughts. 

Kai landed back on planet earth and wondered when Bryan had placed the pistols on the table in front of him.

“Do you remember how to load?” Bryan began to tear one apart piece by piece.

Kai shook his head. 

“Try.” Bryan used one hand to gesture to the table “oh- wait” 

Bryan walked towards Kai and got a bit close for comfort.

“What the fuck are you doing-” Kai flinched back and closed one eye when Bryan plopped something around his neck. 

Kai felt his face flush a bit.

*Fuck, fuck fuck fuck-*

Kai reached for the heavy thing around his neck, “Oh- earmuffs.” 

“What do you think I would put around your neck? Weirdo.” Bryan shot him a confused glare. 

“I- I don’t know!?” Kai became worried when he didn’t think through his response, he sounded like a teenage girl, he hated it. 

Kai took a deep breath and approached the table.

“It’s not loaded.” Bryan reassured him. 

Kai went to grab the pistol but his hand hovered overtop of it, he was scared, it frustrated him that he didn’t know why. 

Bryan slowly grasped his hand and lowered it onto the gun. He held his hand there for at least a minute, Kai wasn’t counting, but he was shaking slightly. 

“Don’t be scared I’m here.” 

“Fuck off-” Kai tried desperately to not be a schoolgirl but he came off a bit rough. 

“Alright fuck you too then figure it out yourself.” Bryan ripped his hand back at the speed of light. 

Kai’s emotions were all over the place, he hadn’t even noticed himself picking up the pistol and treating it like an old friend, loading it with much practice. 

“Woah.” Bryan’s eyes grew wide, he felt a feeling flutter in his chest, and he again, pushing it away, menacing stupid feelings. 

Just like that Kai was holding a loaded pistol. He stopped in his tracks and let his eyes fall on it. He was silent. 

“You alright?” Bryan worried about him, he worried about him all the time.

“I’m fine. How do I shoot it?” Kai turned to the partitions mentally locking on to the targets far away.

“Try it for yourself first- oh.”

Kai was already in form, so Bryan took it upon himself to strut over and put his ear protection on for him. 

Kai wasn’t pulling the trigger. He left the safety on, unmoving. 

“Here you have to fix your stance.” Bryan poked Kai’s bicep when he didn’t respond.

*Guess he can’t hear me.*

He grabbed Kai’s leg and tried to organize it differently, then kicked his other foot. “There that’s good, not you’re arms-” He delayed thinking of how to do this without getting his hands all over Kai- As much as he wanted to-

*What the fuck!? I don’t want to touch him- I what- Ew!*

“I have to grab your arms Kai.”

“What!?” Kai was confused. 

“Okay here-” Bryan stood behind him and wrapped his arms over Kai’s shoulders.” He reached for his forearms and tried to move them, “Oh my god Kai fucking untense jesus-” 

Kai let himself relax a bit. 

“There. Wait-” 

Bryan leaned his head over Kai’s shoulder and clasped his hands around Kai’s over the pistol.

“This isn’t quite right-” He moved a few of Kai’s fingers. “There!” He jumped back fast trying to hide his red face from Kai. 

*What? I’m so done with these feelings it’s just Kai it is JUST KAI!*

Kai’s breaths were ragged. 

Bryan became worried. He got closer to Kai again and grasped his shoulder, “In your own time.” 

Kai’s jaw moved, he bit his lip and held the gun tighter. 

*Fuck that’s hot-*

And he shot the gun 1, 2, 3, 4 times. 

Bryan felt the electric shock run through his body on every shot. 

Kai turned to look at him, he took off the ear protection. 

“Can you reload it?” Bryan asked.

“Yeah.” Kai began to reload it and then went back to his stance. He grew uncomfortable, “can you show me again?” Kai asked uneasily. 

“Of course.” Bryan took his old position behind Kai, this time leaning into his back more, because, well- Fuck you that’s why. 

 “Put my earmuffs back on asshole.” Kai grinned. 

“Of course fuckface.” Bryan accidently grazed Kai’s chin when he grasped the muffs. 

He put them on Kai’s ears and gave them a pat, he still stayed behind Kai, he wasn’t sure why, and it pissed him off that he couldn’t move. 

Kai shot the gun again 4 times. The sound from behind was deafening and Bryan leaned into his shoulder a bit more, against his will the words he had been thinking for a while slipped out.

“I think I like you and it’s driving me fucking crazy-” 

Kai still held the gun, unmoving. 

*He couldn’t have heard me, there’s no way- the earmuffs*

“What did you say?” Kai angled his head to stare at him. 

“N-Nothing- reload and shoot asshole-” 

“It sounded like you’re gross.” Kai couldn’t keep his face expressionless, he was cracking a smile, he hated it. 

“I’m not gross?” 

“Even though you like me?” 

The gun range had never been quieter. 

Bryan’s face turned red as a beet, first from embarrassment, then anger. 

“I don’t fucking like you, you rich brat fuck you! Fuck!” Bryan pushed himself away from Kai, Kai put the gun back and took the earmuffs off onto the table beside the gun. 

“These earmuffs suck.” Kai had never been more stoic, it pissed Bryan off.

“How the FUCK are you so NORMAL right now? Are you messed in the head-” 

“Yes.” Kai’s expression grew from stoic to furious. 

“You’re an idiot Kai Hiwatari- and you can learn how to shoot yourself- Die for all I care-” Bryan crossed his arms, his face was still the same shade of red. 

“You’re the idiot, moron!” Kai rolled his eyes.

“Why? You know what fuck you-” 

“Because I think I like you too… Bitch.” Kai’s last word didn’t hit as hard, but Bryan felt like he had been hit with a shotgun. 

“You’re an idiot Kai really? For real. You’re fucked.” 

“You’re fucked- I can’t even shoot a gun and yet here you are-” 

“Cause of your fucking soft skin and dumb breath and stupid lips and your adams apple, it’s just always there!” Bryan raged and took a few steps towards Kai, he was ready to fight this guy. 

“Well I hate you’re stupid hair and face- and you’re videogame obsession and- mf!” 

Kai’s words were cut short when Bryan grabbed his stupid scarf and the back of his moronic head and pulled him closer kissing him in the process. 

Angry making out is weird, but they loved it. 

Once they pulled away someone had to break the silence. Kai decided it had to be him, somehow the more sociable of the duo. 

“I think I know how to shoot a gun now… Thanks.”

[thotantics]

Come Back Home

⚤   pairing — reader + Im Changkyun (monsta x)

✎ word count — 2k

✦ genre — smut, fluff

✗ warnings  — dirty talk, descriptions of sex, phone sex

Requested — can you write a, changkyun phone sex please? thankssss 💘            

Changkyun was exhausted by the time he got back to the hotel. The first thing he did when he sat down was pull his phone out of his bag, where he’d stuffed it away for safe keeping for the night. Once he turned it back on he saw a message from you that he had missed by quite a while, and the sinking feeling of guilt hit his stomach as he opened the correct app to respond to you.

Y/N[9:17pm]: are you busy Changkyun[12:42am]: I’m sorry I missed you, is everything ok? Y/N[12:42am]: hi!! yeah everythings ok, don’t worry Y/N[12:43am]: i just miss you :(

He pouted at his phone as he typed his reply. Changkyun missed you a lot, too, and he felt awful that he had left you hanging for over three hours without a response. He wanted to be a more attentive, available boyfriend. He definitely didn’t want to be laying in a hotel bed in some city so far away from the one he loved at this very moment, body sore and aching and missing the warmth of you laying next to him.

Changkyun[12:44am]: I miss you too, princess. what are you doing right now? in bed sleeping? it’s late back home, right? Y/N[12:45am]: it’s not that late. I’m in bed tho, yeah~ wbu? Changkyun[12:45am]: yes, I’m in bed, too. I wish you were here, you’d love the view from my room. Y/N[12:45am]: send me a pic??

Dutifully, Changkyun got out of bed and walked over to the big windows, the curtains still drawn open to reveal the city lights below, and he snapped a really aesthetic picture he knew you’d love. He made sure he got the angle just right and even put a cute caption over in cursive font “wish u were here”.

Y/N[12:48am]: dummy!! I wanted Y O U in the picture, too, take another

He laughed, turned the front facing camera on and swung around on the spot. He tried not to look as tired as he felt, knowing you’d fuss at him and cut your conversation short if you thought he should go to sleep. Making sure the view was visible behind him, he sent another shot, with the same fancy cursive font that this time read “is this better, brat”.

Y/N[12:49]: much better!! 😍 Changkyun[12:50am]: where’s mine? Y/N sent a photo

He tapped open the photo so he could view it in full screen, smiling serenely as he took in the sight of your tousled hair fanning out on the pillow under your head, you were wearing the shirt you stole from him to keep before he left for tour, and you had the cutest pucker on your lips, with your eyes sparkling with a happiness that he felt pierce his heart.

Changkyun[12:52am]: princess, you’re so gorgeous I can’t stop staring. Changkyun[12:52am]: look at your lips...god, I wish I could kiss you right now Changkyun[12:52am]: I’m really about to book a flight back home just for a kiss. I’m sure my hyungs will delay the concert a few days in order for me to get back Y/N[12:53am]: don’t be silly. does this help? Y/N sent a photo

Changkyun laughed when he opened the next photo to see your cute pucker right up close and personal to the camera, and he couldn’t resist sending a smooch to his screen.

Changkyun[12:54am]: don’t expect a stupid ass pic like that back from me Y/N[12:54am]: u kissed it didnt u Changkyun[12:55am]: ... maybe ... Y/N[12:55am]: lmao I love u 💗 Changkyun[12:55am]: I love you so much sweetness, I can’t wait to kiss your pretty lips for real Y/N[12:56am]: just a couple more weeks! :’) Changkyun[12:57am]: can I call you? Y/N[12:57am]: please, of course

He wanted to see you but for the moment, hearing your voice he hoped would soothe him a little bit. He knew you’d fuss if you saw how much he was yawning and the bags under his eyes. He should have come to the hotel and gone straight to sleep and normally, he knew you’d scold him about such things but Changkyun just missed you more than usual.

“Hi, honey.” You greeted him warmly and he sighed at the sound of your voice in his ear, even from his phone. He sank down onto the bed again, sprawling out on his back, and shut his eyes as he said hello back.

“You sound so sleepy.” You told him, and Changkyun laughed.

“I said one word, how do you know?”

“You should go to bed, honey.” You tell him gently, “I’ll call you in the morning, ok?”

“No, no, wait, wait, wait,” Changkyun said quickly, “I’ll get ready for bed with you on the phone, ok? Just talk to me a while, please.”

“Ok.” You chuckle and it’s like music to his ears as he stands up and begins kicking off his shoes. “How was the show tonight?”

As Changkyun gives you a brief highlight of the show, he finishes undressing and heads to the bathroom, putting the phone on the sink as he brushes his teeth. You find yourself copying his routine, following the familiar pattern that you pick up on when you’re together for long stretches of time. It gives you a thinly veiled sense of domestic stability, the only problem being the distance and length of time that you still had before you would be together again.

He realizes ahead of time that you’re about to be naked together, and what that could mean. You don’t really catch on, unable to see his face and the way arousal is causing his dick to swell.

“Are you drying off?” He asks you, reaching out for a towel and running it over his hair.

“Yeah.” You tell him, sliding your arms into your favorite plush robe and sitting down in front of the mirror, reaching for the hairbrush.

“Are you in that robe I got you for Christmas last year?” Changkyun asks you, a smirk forming on his lips because he can picture it so easily if he just shuts his eyes. You’ll have your legs crossed at the ankle and be brushing your hair, and you smell delicious, and your skin is so soft.

“Yes, I am.” You smile to yourself.

“Guess what I’m doing right now.” He tells you, and his voice is deep and whispery, laced with a roguishness that paints a clear image in your mind of exactly what it was he was doing.

“Are you doing my job?” You ask him with a playful pout.

Changkyun laughs, “Aw, princess. Are you jealous?”

“Yes.” You tell him, and truthfully you were, you could feel it in the pit of your stomach as your thighs clenched together and rubbed, throbbing in your core at the want, the need to simply turn around in your seat and take him into your hands the way you knew he was doing to himself right then.

“My hands don’t feel nearly as good as yours, baby.” Changkyun tells you sweetly, “Fuc-” He cuts off with a strangled moan, thrusting his hips forward into his tightly closed fist, “I wish it was your mouth instead.”

You lick your lips, shutting your eyes, listening closely. The sounds were maximized by the extra water covering his skin, and the slick pumping was very slow and deliberate. Your lips parted as you concentrate on the sound of Changkyun’s breath, and you slip your hand into the front of your robe, immediately seeking out your clit.

“What about my pussy?” You ask him.

“W-what about it?” He asks and you laugh.

“I bet you would want my pussy even more, right? Instead of your hand.” You encourage him, hoping that he’ll keep talking.

“Oh, fuck.” Changkyun groans, “Yeah...are you touching yourself?”

“Maybe.” You giggle.

“Tell me.”

“Yes, I’m touching myself.” You tell him quickly, “It makes me so wet to hear you touch yourself...the sounds you’re making. I’m rubbing my clit,” You bite your lip, stifling your nerves as heat floods to your cheeks, making you blush crimson at your own reflection across the bathroom counter. You turn, leaning against the counter, spreading your legs a little bit wider, and tell Changkyun, “I definitely wish it was your tongue instead.”

“But it feels good, right?” He asks you, licking his suddenly dry lips, shuffling forward and grabbing his phone in one hand, keeping a grip on his cock with the other, and he headed to go sit on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, it feels good.” You swallow thickly, “I can’t hear you anymore. Are you still doing it too?”

“Yes, princess. I paused to get a some lube. I miss your pretty pussy, and how wet it gets for me.” He resumes stroking himself then, and you smile when you’re able to match up your fingers sliding down and pumping into your hole in time with Changkyun’s fist around his cock.

“Can I show you?” You ask him, biting your lip at the suggestion.

“Show me how wet you are?” He asks, and you hum in confirmation and he groans, his cock throbbing at the thought of seeing your wet, pink flesh.

“Facetime me.” You tell him, “I want to see you, too.”

Changkyun grabs his phone from the side of the bed to turn on video sharing, his heart racing. It doesn’t take but a few seconds to connect and when it does, he’s rewarded with your flushed face, lips parted, staring with a cute wrinkle in your brow as you wait to see him. When his face shows up on your screen, smiling and sleepy eyed, your face spreads into a wide smile.

“Hi, handsome~”

“Hi, princess.”

“I have something I wanted to show you,” You say, biting your lip and teasing him a little, lifting your hand into frame and showing him the sticky wetness that was coated over your first two fingers. “Can you see?”

“Yes, baby, I can see. Show me more.” He groans, his voice gruff and yet still somehow sugary sweet in his commands. He holds his own phone back, giving you a good view from his hand stroking his cock to just below the eyes.

You give him a nice close up of his favorite things. You toy with your breasts, circling your nipples to let him watch them harden, his tongue practically reaching out to caress them through the phones as in stared.

“Don’t forget the other one.” He tells you when you start to move to your hips, so you pan back up with a giggle and toy with your opposite nipple, too, drawing some of the wetness from between your legs to circle the bud of your breast into a tight peak.

He rewards you for that by swiping his thumb over the head of his dick to collect the precum and then telling you, “Good girl.” before he sucks it off. You move on down, parting your legs and moving a little bit into better lighting, your free hand spreading your lower lips delicately.

“Fuck!” Changkyun gasps, stroking himself considerably faster and harder than he had been. “Fuck, look at you...so fucking juicy.”

“Do you see what you do to me baby?” You purr to him, rubbing your clit briefly before you plunge two fingers deep into your hole, matching the frantic pace with which he was jerking on his dick. “Keep doing it, just like that,” You pant, “Make me cum.”

Changkyun doesn’t stop, he stares with his jaw unhinged at his phone in his hand and strokes his cock fast and hard, squeezing it tight and thankful he added a liberal amount of lube. The visual in front of him helps with the illusion, and the way you were gasping and moaning openly for him as if he was there, fucking into you, and if it was really him that was about to make you cum, and not your own fingers.

“A-ahh!” He groans loud, a warning falling from his lips that’s barely coherent, and he bucks his hips up into his fist. He cries out your name, and then, “Cum with me, ok? Now. Now, now!”

The very first streak of white that paints up his tensed torso, his muscles flexing and his face scrunching up sends you flying over the edge right along with him. Your hips jerk forward and it explodes out of you, gushing a little bit over your fingers as your grind your clit into the heel of your hand.

Changkyun hasn’t had this sort of relief in far too many days, and by the end of it he’s covered his stomach and thighs and his hand all in streaks and small puddles of white. You tell him that if you were there, you’d lick it up for him with your tongue, and he groans, cock throbbing.

“Fuck, princess, what are you trying to do to me?” He groans.

“You started it.” You tell him with a giggle.

“Thanks for this, by the way. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Changkyun.” You tell him with a dreamy sigh, “I can’t wait until you come home.”

[wanna1things]

Kang Daniel; Christmas Day (Are You Sure You’re Not Santa?) | 11 Days of Christmas ❄

i love daniel what the heck

Genre;; fluffy christmas love it love it loVE IT

Warnings;; none

Pairing;; Kang Daniel x reader

Requested;; nope

Summary;; Someone gave you everything you’ve ever wanted, and it wasn’t Santa....

Style;; bullet point

Word Count;; 598

The 11 Days of Christmas;; 1st | 2nd | 3rd | 4th | 5th | 6th | 7th | 8th | 9th | 10th (coming soon)

I cant believe this is over already!! But merry christmas/happy holidays (if you dont celebrate christmas) to everyone!! sorry this is late but;; i had a family emergency so i had to delay but lmao im at 420 followers atm

christmas with your boyfriend daniel was going amazingly at the start

he’d bought you exACTLY what you wanted

probably because you dropped hints every 5 seconds buT ANYWAY

your parents were coming over to your shared apartment for christmas

aka you and daniel had to cook…

tbh you bought ready cooked stuff to save time

but the thing you were really looking forward to was making cookies

the recipe had been in your family for years and you really wanted to make it with daniel to like;; start a new tradition

so you both got started with making the cookies

they were simple, not too difficult to make and the ingredients were easy to find and you were 99.9% sure you had all of them in your cupboard

that was until you were almost done and daniel turned around

“y/n… there’s no madagascan vanilla extract…”

CUE PANIC

within seconds you two were in the car to the nearest shop in desperate hope that one would be open and sold vanilla extract

because hey what’s christmas without christmas cookies this is IMPORTANT

the first shop you went to was shut

as were all of them

by this point, it was only an hour until your parents were going to arrive and you thanked god that you had bought pre-prepared food

and you were at least half an hour from your apartment now

Daniel pulled to the side of the road and pulled out his phone, mumbling something into it before hanging up and starting to drive again

“Daniel what was that about???”

“I had an idea. We can finish making the cookies!!”

after 10 minutes of confusion as to where the hell you were going, you pulled up outside a house and Daniel started to press the horn

you turned to look towards the house and you spotted a disheveled looking jisung come running out of the house towards you with a bottle in his hands

“Daniel i told you to come to the door i’m in the middle of eating please- oh hi y/n! Merry christmas!”

Daniel took the bottle off of jisung and placed it in the car’s cup holder before waving goodbye to jisung and driving off

“Did we seriously just borrow jisung’s vanilla extract… was that your amazing idea?”

“Yes,, why?”

“No comment.”

with 20 minutes to spare you arrived back at your apartment and finished off the cookies while also putting the other stuff in the oven to heat up

just as the doorbell went off the cookies were done and you breathed a sigh of relief as daniel got them out of the oven and you greeted your parents

before you knew it the day was over and you were saying goodbye to your parents and relaxing on the sofa with daniel watching a christmas film

as the credits went up you turned to daniel who was looking right back at you

“Are you sure you’re not Santa?”

“y/n what do you mean?? Are you calling me fat??”

“NO i just mean… today you gave me everything i wanted. You have to either be santa or the best boyfriend in the world..?”

“Hm… I’m pretty sure I’m the best boyfriend in the world…”

he smiled and leaned over to press his lips against yours but stopped before they could touch

“but im also pretty sure jisung’s got to be the best friend in the world because of that vanilla extract…”

you both giggled at his comment and leaned back

“Thank you so much for the best christmas ever, Daniel.”

responsible and reliable jisung over here

[spockandawe]

So you’ve heard Spock is the actual literal devil

Have you heard that I’m a terrible person? A plagiarist? Have you been told that I’m only into transformers at all because I wanted to make this one random guy unhappy? If you’ve been told that, you’ve probably also been told that a year and a half later, I’m still making fanworks just to upset him. You might have even heard that shhhh, don’t disagree with Spock on anything, or they’ll hunt you down and harass you.

Right, okay. This is one hell of a saga that I will attempt to tell in as compressed a form as possible. It’s a lot. Years ago, back in HS, there was this one guy who policed the hell out of one of the character tags. I’m going to call him C. He’d pressure people not to make the content they were making, decry the hateful people reading with a malicious eye who thought the character would ever do anything bad (the character was a creep). And because being obnoxious wasn’t bad enough, if you didn’t cave to his demands, he just might do things like start whisper campaigns about how you support rape, casually out you as a survivor, cute little things like that.

This is not a story about that guy.

This is a story about C’s one-time attack dog, eventual boyfriend, and current ex. We’ll go ahead and call him R. I’ve tried real hard to avoid namedropping on my blog before, but could people find him from this? Probably. Have I stopped caring? Absolutely.

TL;DR, unsubstantiated accusations of serial harassment are a little questionable when they’re coming from someone with a years-long, extensively documented history of serial harassment and a personal grudge against me.

Cut for length.

Edit 7/2/2017: R has posted that he regrets making these posts about me, and admits that he said things that were out of line. And he’s stated that he’s going to try to do better in the future. I genuinely, truly appreciate that. I’m leaving this post up because there have been lies about me floating around for a while and I reserve the right to defend myself, but I really do appreciate that.

Oh balls, none of this makes sense without backstory (I’m so sorry)

If you think I suck or my work sucks, that’s fine! You do you, go enjoy the things that make you happy.

If you think I’m the devil because this one guy told you about my evil, evil past and all my terrible misdeeds, without anything at all to back up his words? You can ask me. I don’t bite, and oh lordy do I have receipts.

To be clear, R is totally allowed to hate me! I don't care. I don't care if he hates my writing, I don't care if he hates me as a person. But now he's escalated to spreading lies about me, and people are believing him, and I’m not enough of a doormat to let that just stand.

And I’m going to cheat a little. Here’s a memo with the cliffs notes version (not the original memo, I made a copy with C’s urls cropped out since he hasn’t attacked anyone in a long while). Warning, digging any distance into this turns up violent fantasies, violent sexual fantasies, creepy interactions with a minor, and lots more, it’s all really, really unpleasant. Evidence is thoroughly documented, please tread with care.

You would not believe how truncated that is compared to the reality.

Now, the worst of this came via C. Who has calmed down a lot these days, and I’m really happy that’s the case. Good for him. I hope his life continues in a direction where he doesn’t find it necessary to do this stuff.

Lucky for me, R was standing by to pick up the slack.

It doesn’t show up as much in the memo, which is mostly C-focused, but R was standing by C this whole time, defending his right to spread around private information about someone’s abuse history, sending nasty messages on the other guy’s behalf, and much,much more. it’s long, it’s awful, it’s unpleasant. R personally hurt people in some significant ways that I don’t want to link directly, for their sake. He expressed deep remorse a few times, but it never stuck.

Here’s my personal favorite quote from R. He’s speaking to the CSA survivor that C casually outed (with information given to him in confidence), and who they’d been running a long, long whisper campaign against, and who was understandably a bit upset over the whole thing:

oh go wank to your own tears [name]

#and get your sympathizers to help #nasty fucking people #maybe if you cry enough youll be able to go into second grade in the fall #ooc

Said, again, to a CSA survivor they outed and harassed. That person is such a sweetheart, and this screencap still infuriates me.

The first time I saw C pick a fight he had lots of friends. Shockingly, as he did things like loudly fantasize about how he wants to mutilate people and rant about how autistic people should die, those friends mostly drifted away. I know one person had a friend even help them stage a faux relationship-ending fight, so they could be sure they’d be able to completely cut and run from C. R stuck with him, though. Eventually they even started dating.

‘Spock followed R into transformers to harass him and stalks his favorite characters just to harass him more’

Then, transformers. Here, let me show you the first post (by R) that ever brought MTMTE to my attention. I spent years being aggressively uninterested in transformers, but this caught my eye

and honestly, ppl (adults too!!!) shipping someone who has the mentality of a child and is quite glaringly lacking a world of experiences and general understanding of things outside of ‘good’ and ‘bad’, with an adult, is just. very alarming and gross to me.

and honestly, the fact that there is a large portion of people who want him to become romantically (and sexually!!!) involved with either one of two fucking adults in canon, and hell, esp those defending it with ‘hes an adult too tho!!’ is really gross.

you can pretend all you want that hes ‘an adult’ because his body is, but theres no way jro didnt intent to code him as a child. stop fetishizing children lmao,

#pedophilia -/-/- #cygate -/-/- #if someone comes at me screaming ‘rule 38′ im gonna shove them in a locker

I didn’t know transformers, but I was pretty sure this was some straight-up bullshit.

(but don’t worry, he ships it now! no hypocrisy here, no sir)

It’s “really gross” to ship this adult with other adults. Mm. Given the reasonableness of the claims these guys have made in the past, and given their extensive history of harassing people over those claims, I hopped to the wiki to check it out. I read a bit about the comic and the plot, and all of it sounded so fascinating that I just had to give the comic a try.

Reader, I married it.

I shotgunned MTMTE 1-47 in two days, started doing fanworks right out of the gate, and I’ve never looked back. A lot of my art was cygate, because come on, the comic wants you to ship it so bad, my first readthrough ended with issue 47, and that was the first ship I’d ever read about for the series, even before I dove in.

Now, both these characters punch me right in the heart, in some painfully personal ways. Tailgate’s the more relevant one here, but I don’t even know if I could do justice to the emotions both of them give me.

I’m still not a fan of how R’s lies about me have edged me into needing to say this in public, but okay. I’m developmentally delayed. It’s been a rough ride. And Tailgate hits me in some of those spots so hard it just takes my breath away. I’ve got a lot of baggage over not being a real adult, and not in the funny oh-no-how-do-taxes-work way, more like an extended months-long meltdown my first year of college because I can tell that my friends are years ahead of me and I don’t know how to even start catching up, and just existing, as myself, is humiliating.

All of my relationship milestones have come painfully, painfully late. The whole thing is still one awful emotional bruise. I hate it, and I hate how easy it is to convince myself that yeah, of course you don’t actually deserve to be treated as an adult and you never will. Just look at you. So then it is unbelievably important to me that I can see someone someone who is like me, being treated as a legitimate adult, and being able to have an adult relationship.

Hearing that shipping someone like me is essentially pedophilia is the opposite of that.

But he ships it now, so everything is fine :)

Yeah, you know what? Another fucking receipt.

uGHGH im so tired of all the rabid cy// /gat// //e fans like even cy’s giving em a look like ‘leave my fucking child alone’

#i just #im hoping jro has some taste tho and doesnt make an adult date a child #and if not im hoping the outcome blows over soon bc im so tired of seeing people defend pedophilia #pedophilia -/-/-

Parental.

This continued even after JRO explicitly confirmed Tailgate was an adult.

Bonus ableism: shipping Whirl (another character who hits me way too hard) isn’t okay either. Even though there isn’t the excuse of ‘but he only lived three years--’ No, at that point, you’re saying that an adult who fails to adult correctly does not count, and isn’t allowed to have romantic relationships. It makes my skin crawl, and it is an issue which is very personally and directly important to me.

So some of my cygate was porn from the start (it’s what I write. it’s what I draw.), and some of the porn was made because I was upset over discourse that says someone like me needs to be treated as a child. I played with cywhirlgate too, because omg how could I not, and some of that was porn as well. It was ages ago, so I don’t remember the details for every little thing I made. But when I saw someone saying that Cyclonus and Tailgate had a parental relationship, I’m sure that helped nudge me in that direction. Maybe R thinks I should have channeled my emotions by starting a whisper campaign to exclude him from fandom spaces. But I think my way of working through bad emotions might have been a little healthier than that.

So when R accuses me of making cygate content to spite him? Half true. Just true enough to be real fucking dishonest. R spent a nice long time insisting that cygate was pedophilia. I channeled my outrage over that ableism into fan creations.

I didn’t attack him. I talked about him some – on a private forum, with people who’d already been aware of him and had been watching him and C hurt people for years, plural. I haven’t told people on tumblr any real details about him until now. And R still is happy to talk about how it was his toxic ex’s right to post torture/rape/murder porn vent fic about actual people.

Tell me, how exactly am I in the wrong?

Bonus pettiness: I posted some cywhirlgate porn. The next day, R vaguely whined about robot pedophilia and turned around and wrote some obviously-a-response cywhirlgate. Where it was super platonic and the text explicitly said it was super platonic and it even had platonic thigh nuzzling. With two “children” involved. Of course I turned around and wrote more fic of my own, because jesus h christ that made my skin crawl. You want to play this game? I guarantee I can write faster than you, let’s do this. (he did not follow through on that)

I’d also like to say that forgetting inconvenient little details like this is a thing with R. Hard to call me terrible for writing spitefic when you write it yourself.

A history of Spock’s personal involvement

Let’s backtrack a tiny bit. You may notice I am up to my elbows in this nonsense for no clear reason.

I was friends with some of the people C was taking shots at, and I was unfortunate enough to believe his original smear campaign about that one artist (I’m still ashamed about that). I cared about a number of people C was trying to hurt. I think one or two fanworks of mine upset him, but he already had loads of targets. I kept tabs on him and R, because anxiety is the gift that just keeps giving.

Eventually, C fantasized about wanting to put my former datemate’s hand through a meat grinder (ey wrote a fic that portrayed his fave in a negative light). And R defended his right to do that.

The person he posted about is still feeling the effects of that incident. I’m still feeling the effects of that. And it wasn’t even directed at me, just someone I care deeply about.

R has recently posted that ‘oh my goodness, C sure was awful, remember when he posted this thing about a meat grinder and how unreasonable it was?’ Thanks buddy, glad you noticed, now just go ahead and keep on blaming me for the aftereffects of what your boyfriend did, and what you defended.

After that, it was months before I could properly look away from either of their blogs.

C posted extensively about trying to track down the street address of his ~enemies~ (including the one whose genitals he fantasized about mutilating). He posted about how autistics should die. He had skype chats about wanting to do amateur brain surgery on people. All while posting very often about finding real addresses.

Yeah, it’s more than a year later, and every so often I get a stab of anxiety and have to head off to double check on what these two are up to.

I will repeat that C has been pretty chill lately. He’s got a career he’s aiming for. Good for him, go find success, please don’t slip back into being an internet bully. It’s sad and upsetting to see R echoing some of the early patterns of his ex, and it’s so strange to see me labeled as his own personal enemy.

‘Spock will totally come harass you too’ and/or various accusations of ableism

So there are some things I did in the mix in this history that I regret. Occasionally, I went out and flipped through the blogs of C and R’s friends, seeing if maybe they’d had said something in their notes, did they have any vagueblogs C liked, did they post about— It got unreasonable. I admit that. Anxiety was at the root of it, but it absolutely got unreasonable. And also it is a massive time sink, and I can’t remember the last time I bothered with it. I enjoy life much more when anxiety and paranoia issues don’t have their claws in me. This hasn’t been an issue in a very long time.

I came down hard on some of the kinfeels and system stuff too, which I do walk back a bit. C’s approach was… hahaha. It was something. And he was my intro to the kin and system paradigms. I saw R talking about C’s approach being unreasonable too, pretty recently. So that was an unfortunate bit of poison in how I processed the next people I met who did that sort of thing. I don’t do kin stuff, but I get it. And DID may not strictly apply to all systems, by the formal diagnostic criteria, but I’ve learned there are plenty of other dissociative disorders out there. And I met people who were multiples and who did kin things that weren’t these two guys. Which helped a LOT.

But the big one, hmmm. C wrote a fic. The idea was interesting, but the execution frustrated me. Everyone but the main lead felt so… flat. Everyone was constantly cruel to the main, for no reason. I saw a way to riff on the original text while staying true to its shape, and writing my bad emotions out is also a major, major thing I do to cope. Now, my big thing is that I should have asked before I remixed. I’d been thinking in terms of, y’know, transformative fanworks. Even with authors like Anne McCaffrey and Anne Rice, who fought against fandom, people have still felt that it should be allowed, even against their wishes. So I wrote the remix. I gave full credit on ao3 in the ‘inspired by’ box, linked to the original with positive words, the whole shebang.

The guy was still furious, and… that’s fair. I thought I’d written a thing on self-sabotage that was pretty sympathetic and compelling, and the self-sabotage actually drew a lot on my own personal history. But I gave the main flaws he strongly disagreed with, and I didn’t ask for permission. I get why he was/is angry over it.

I’ve been a fixture on their shitlists ever since :P

It’s remarkable, even while R posts now about ‘oh my god, remember how C wrote the creepiest things?’, I’m still the one who’s the the actual worst, for being skeeved out by the creepy things and finding a constructive way to deal with it. R’s controlling ex gets full freedom when it comes to vent fic, even when it’s about wallowing in torturing, raping, and murdering an avatar for a real person (the original one they harassed!), or punching someone in the face until they agree to be your friend (another artist these guys targeted). But R’s position seems to be that only C is allowed to vent (even if it’s genital mutilation fantasies), and I’m definitely not.

Oh, and R has now expanded this remix into me totally having a consistent pattern of stealing ideas and plagiarism and so many remixes that are obviously done as revenge on anyone who pisses me off. So that’s nice.

So R hates your writing. Is that seriously why this post exists?

Ha, no. Let’s look at the concrete things R is saying. Here, let me post a little sampling of evidence.

These aren’t just things he’s shouting into the void, people have responded saying wow, I never knew that! These are lies that people are believing about me. And then yesterday, June 30, 2017, he warned a friend not to disagree with my meta, or I’d come harass them. A friend I’m aggressively leaving out of this, just as I’m leaving out other responses, because these people don’t deserve to be dragged into R’s bullshit.

Let’s have bullet points. Some of these are the silly spock-is-bad-at-writing complaints. Those are here because this whole mess is pretty fucking depressing and the ridiculous claims make me laugh, but these are all things he says.

Spock is evil – You know what, he’s not calling people pedophiles, which is a step up. I’ll take it.

Spock is a plagiarist – I remixed one fic with full credit, said only good things about the original, and linked to it in extra places so that people would have extra opportunities to click through and check it out. I arguably remixed inappropriately, but that’s not the same thing. Words have definitions. If I’m a plagiarist, so is everyone who’s ever written a fanfic.

Spock is something something mean when people disagree – I don’t even know, man. I’m actually shockingly conflict-averse. Is this because I make walls of text and explain why I hold opinions at great length? I enjoy talking about a thing I love. I’m autistic, I’m hyperverbal, and this is my special interest, so is it that I talk a lot? That’s the best I can do. I’ve talked about things I disagree with on a private forum, in which case mister pot has had a lot of fun in public on twitter, not only talking shit, but also spreading outright untruths. Maybe he wants to rethink this one.

Spock will come harass you if you disagree – You need to back the heck down, pal.

Spock’s meta/fic/characterization is bad and they should feel bad – Hahaha, fite me. He won’t, because I can articulately defend myself at significant length, and his criticisms seem to stop at ‘spock sucks’, but hey.

Spock used ableist language about Whirl - I... what? This one confuses me and makes me laugh so it stays here. Also, holy double standards, batman.

Spock is only into transformers to harass R – I checked out transformers because I was pretty sure R was being disgustingly ableist (he was). I stayed in transformers because I adore it. I had to adore it a lot to make me willing to share fandom space with these two. My god, I have better things to do with my life than spend all my time on something that bores me just to annoy one asshole on the other side of the internet. I’d ask if he thinks I spent dozens of painstaking hours cross-stitching Starscream just to bother him, but….. yep, pretty sure he does.

Spock goes after all of R’s favorite characters to upset him – R latches on to just about every interesting and/or sympathetic character that shows up. When he was dating C, they covered most of the cast between them. I don’t care who R likes best because I don’t agree with his opinions. I tend to stay away from his opinions because I don’t like reading things that bother me. This is asnine. I’m only allowed to like the characters R despises, I guess.

Spock makes fanworks for things R likes just to make him see them – Oh my god, I don’t caaaaaare. I write about things that interest me, unless I’m venting. Say, venting about the way R and his ex have deliberately hurt a shockingly high number of people I care about. ‘Spock made rodistar because I liked it--’ I made it because I wrote a thing about their parallels, and shipping was the obvious next step. R isn’t that important to me. Promise.

This is just exhausting, man. The anxiety bugs had been dying down, and it had been ages since I checked out this guy’s anything. C, who drove the whole initial blowup that led to this, has been quiet and chill on tumblr. But R has learned from his ex’s old example and has been having fun spreading lies about me.

In conclusion

Some fun history.

R was 18 when he told a CSA survivor upset about being outed and harassed to wank using their tears for lube.

He was older than that when he defended C’s right to post about wanting to mutilate someone’s genitals (for the crime of saying C’s logic didn’t make sense).

He was older than that when he complained about that person’s spouse being ‘vicious’ for reacting badly to C’s genital mutilation fantasy.

He was older than that when he nodded along as C called autistic people retards and said they should die.

He was older than that when he talked about being happy that someone he disliked was triggered, and nodded along when C fantasized about that person drinking bleach.

And he was older than that when he defended C, his twenty-something boyfriend, against the thirteen-year-old that C had been having incredibly inappropriate conversations with, despite skype log proof and everything.

And despite all this, I’m still the bad guy, because I didn’t think what they were doing was okay. I’m the bad guy for being upset by C's actions, even though... R is now upset by C’s actions. The ways I responded to C were inexcusable. My only motivation is to hurt people. Every thing I did that ever upset them still means I’m terrible, even though R is saying this while he’s busy posting about how awful C is. And this all means that he needs to warn his friends not to catch my attention, or I’ll come harass them.

So, I’m tired.

I’m very tired.

I’m glad he’s trying to grow past that history. Good. Maybe he can do that without making up a story about how I’m unrepentant villain who lives for villainy and who only takes joy in causing him pain. I’m sure it helps him, because it’s a story that brushes aside the shit he did that he regrets, and makes his past less painful to think about. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with him telling lies about me.

I don’t know why I’m the one boogeyman he has left (I kid, it’s because I’m in transformers, and because he thinks I’m popular. he harps on it a lot, and it’s weird for everyone). I mean, whatever. I’ve aggressively avoided publishing drama details on here for a very long time. But there are two blog tags, miscellaneous other untagged blog content, three forum threads, and hundreds of pages of skype logs with hard evidence of this bullshit.

I’m pretty sure that if he tries to defend himself, one, he’ll place some blame on his ex. That’s fair. C was pretty darn controlling and demanding. But R is still absolutely responsible for his own actions, and is especially responsible for the harm he personally caused. He’ll talk about how it’s bullshit to pull up all these receipts from so very long ago. In that case, his receipts for me (whatever he even has) are equally old, so aren’t they null and void? No, because Spock is the devil. And it’s not so much bullshit if he’s clearly learned nothing, and has gone back to spreading outright falsehoods about people.

To be clear, a lot of the lies he told about me were told a while back. Weeks to a few months to a year. I was letting it sit, because I’d really, really hoped this was over. Yesterday, June 30, 2017, he warned a friend not to publicly disagree with my meta or I’d come and harass them.

It’s been three years since I first saw him doing this. I’ve watched him hurt a lot of people, and I’ve watched him admit, multiple times, that he has hurt people. I thought he’d learned to stop following these toxic patterns. Apparently he has not.

Edit 7/2/2017: To repeat the edit up above, R has said he regrets posting these things about me, and that he's going to try to avoid slipping into this in the future. I very much appreciate that.