#now let me elaborate on some positions a bit

[zlobonessa]

i was bored while waiting for a bus. here's a tierlist of re:zero characters and whether or not i think they are smokers

[dangoulains-devotion]

thinking just a bit too hard about how the added depth given to tifa and aerith's friendship only increases the weight threatening to crush tifa after the forgotten capital, she already had so much to carry on her weary shoulders, she's going to have to carry even more when mideel happens, and it doesn't even stop after meteorfall, ohg od oh i love her so much i

[pucksandpower]

Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Whispered fairytale - Lewis Hamilton

request: "hi can i have a request about moments of fluff when reader's pregnant? with lewis of course <3" - anon

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: fluff, like a lot of it

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I am not sorry for the sighs I was letting out as I was writting this. You guys have been warned, it's dad Lewis after all.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Monaco shimmered beneath the fading sunlight, a familiar scenery for Lewis and Y/N. This time, however, the champagne flowed with a bittersweet undercurrent as nestled in a drawer, a positive pregnancy test hummed with a quiet revolution. No elaborate pronouncements, just a single pink line etching a new chapter onto their shared story.

Their path to parenthood hadn't been meticulously expected. Discussions about starting a family had danced between them, unspoken agreements carried on the wind of their non-stop lives. Lewis, now an eight-time champion, a feat achieved under the scarlet banner of Ferrari, still felt the fire to chase another title. Yet, amidst the celebrations at the end of season, a quiet voice whispered that perhaps, the timing might have been just right.

As the celebratory roar began to fade, replaced by the clinking of abandoned champagne flutes, Lewis found himself gazing at Y/N, her smile hesitant yet imbued with a radiant joy, although the reason behind it hadn’t been revealed.

Their planned racetrack of a future had morphed into a sprawling unknown, but as Y/N's hand met his, a quiet certainty bloomed within him. This unplanned detour wasn't a wrong turn. It was a victory lap of a different kind, perhaps the starting grid for their greatest adventure.

A Dream

Sunlight speared through the sliver of uncovered window, painting a warm stripe across Lewis's features. Y/N stirred beside him, the weight of sleep clinging to her eyelids. Disoriented for a moment, she blinked, the room slowly coming into focus. Lewis, sprawled on the plush white chaise lounge next to his driver’s room sofa, was the first thing that registered.

Except, he wasn't really by himself, not mentally anyway.

His gaze was fixed on a spot above her stomach, a soft, almost reverent smile playing on his lips. He spoke, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

"Alright, little one," he was saying, "I know you can't hear me yet, but listen up. This whole thing...it's a bit overwhelming, you know?" He chuckled, a nervous sound that tugged at Y/N's heart. "Honestly, I don't have a clue what I'm doing. But your mama here," he glanced at Y/N, his eyes warm, "she's a trooper. We'll figure it out, together. As a team."

The sight of Lewis, ever the composed champion, confessing his anxieties about fatherhood sent a wave of tenderness over Y/N. Carefully, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the dark braids of his hair.

"Lewis," she croaked, her voice thick with sleep.

He turned, his smile widening as he met her gaze. "Hey there, beautiful.”

"Just getting to know the newest member of the team," he continued, his eyes flickering back to her stomach. "We were having a little chat."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet room. "It can’t really hear you" she said, her smile fading slightly. "It's still early days, remember?"

Lewis's smile softened. He reached out, his hand hovering just above her stomach. "I know," he said, his voice gentle. "But that doesn't mean I can't try, does it?"

Lewis, ever the believer in manifestation, ever the optimist. She scooted closer, making room for him on the sofa. He settled beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"How was your nap?" he asked, his lips brushing against her temple.

"Good," she mumbled, nuzzling closer to him. "But you woke me up with your…pep talk."

"Just some heart-to-heart, you know?!" he said with a wink. "With the little one, of course."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, but a smile tugged at her lips. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The surprise of the positive test, the initial shock, the overwhelming joy – it had all been a blur. Lewis, ever the supportive partner, had taken it all in stride. Sure, there were moments of worry, of panicked glances exchanged in stolen moments, but mostly, there was a quiet excitement that simmered between the couple.

Out of the blue, as it tended to be, a loud growl echoed in the quiet room. She winced, covering her eyes in shame. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he soothed, his voice laced with concern. "This little one needs some food, right?"

Y/N nodded, the growling easing down "Yeah," she mumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I..."

"Don't apologize," he said firmly. "This is all part of the journey. We're in this together."

His words held a quiet strength, a comforting confidence that calmed the churning in her stomach. It was more than just constantly being hungry; it was a reminder of the tiny miracle growing inside her.

They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of their breathing. Outside, the world buzzed with activity, the roar of the racetrack a distant rumble. But here, in this quiet haven, a different kind of race was about to begin – a race against time, against uncertainty, but most importantly, a race towards a future filled with the promise of a tiny miracle. And that little one, even though they were still just a whisper of a dream, was already so loved. More than Y/N could ever imagine.

Your scent

The crisp scent of Lewis's signature cologne, a heady mix of citrus and spice, usually sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. Today, however, it was the trigger for a rebellion in her stomach. A wave of nausea crashed over her, sending her scrambling out of bed towards the bathroom.

Lewis, stirred by the commotion, sat up, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Y/N? You alright?" he called out, concern etching lines on his forehead.

Y/N emerged from the bathroom, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she mumbled, her voice weak. "Just a little…" she trailed off, the metallic tang of bile rising in her throat.

Lewis was by her side in an instant, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Morning sickness again?" he asked gently.

Y/N shook her head, forcing a weak smile. "Second trimester was supposed to be smooth sailing, they said" Her voice held a hint of sarcasm, even to her own ears.

Lewis chuckled softly. "Maybe smooth sailing is a bit optimistic," he admitted. "But hey, at least you're keeping food down" Y/N grimaced. That particular phase had been brutal. She rinsed her mouth in the sink, the minty freshness a welcome relief.

"Actually," she started hesitantly, Lewis's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Y/N hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Your cologne," she began, gesturing vaguely towards the bottle on the dresser "it's making me sick."

The surprise on Lewis's face was comical. He stared at the bottle, then back at Y/N, as if trying to process the information. This was the cologne he'd worn for years, his signature scent. It was practically an extension of him.

"My cologne?" he finally managed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "But it's…" he trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's me, Y/N. You love me, right?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. "Of course, I love you, silly," she said, reaching out to cup his face. "But right now, your child doesn’t really enjoy your 'you-ness'”

A slow grin spread across his face. "Alright, then” he declared, picking up the cologne bottle. "Operation: Find a pregnancy-safe scent it is."

Y/N watched, a smile playing on her lips, as Lewis rummaged through his extensive collection of grooming products. "How about this one?" Lewis asked, holding up a small, unassuming bottle with a label that read "Lavender Serenity."

Y/N wrinkled her nose playfully. "A bit too…serene for you, wouldn't you say?"

Lewis chuckled, tossing the bottle back onto the dresser. "Maybe. But hey, at least it won't make you puke."

Whoever they are

The air crackled with anticipation as Y/N's mother hoisted a heavy bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter. Lewis's dad, Anthony, hovered beside her, peering inside with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Alright" Anthony announced, brandishing a head of cabbage, "let's settle this once and for all. Boy or girl?"

Y/N chuckled, her belly, now a prominent dome beneath her maternity clothes, bouncing with laughter. "Lewis and I have already agreed, no peeking!"

Across the room, Lewis, ever the competitor, mirrored Y/N's amusement. "Besides," he added, winking at Anthony, "I have a feeling your cabbage test is about to be proven wildly inaccurate."

Anthony scoffed playfully. "Don't underestimate the power of tradition. Now, hand me that measuring tape."

As the pregnancy had unfolded everyone had made the bump a target to old wives' tales and lighthearted debate.

Y/N's mother, a firm believer in the "pregnancy glow" theory, insisted the baby was a girl based on Y/N's radiant complexion. Anthony, armed with his cabbage test (apparently, a high, round shape indicated a boy), remained stubbornly convinced otherwise.

Lewis, however, held a quiet confidence in his prediction of a girl. He couldn't explain it; it was just a feeling, a deep one that resonated within him.

The rest of the family, friends, and even Ferrari staff, seemed convinced it was a boy. The sheer volume of blue onesies and miniature race car toys accumulating in the nursery was a testament to that.

Despite the overwhelming "boy" camp, Y/N found herself drawn to Lewis's quiet certainty, her mother's unwavering belief and Leclerc’s claim that Lewis was a girl dad and he wouldn’t believe in anything else. There was a subtle shift in their preferences, a secret language of pink frilly socks and delicate stuffed animals tucked away in the corner of the nursery.

As the due date came ever closer the playful arguments gave way to a more sentimental atmosphere.

Anthony surprised everyone one evening by pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. "Girl or boy," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "you're going to be incredible parents. And that little one," he patted Y/N's stomach gently, "they're already so loved."

A tear escaped Y/N's eye, mirroring the glistening in Lewis's. The truth was, the gender didn't matter. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of their lives.

As Y/N snuggled against Lewis on the couch, just days before their little one arrived, her hand resting on her swollen belly, a wave of peace washed over her.

"You know," she whispered, "maybe the whole point isn't about knowing the gender."

Lewis turned to her, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe," Y/N continued, a smile gracing her lips, "the point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

Lewis's smile mirrored hers. He squeezed her hand gently. "We're ready, whatever comes." he said, his voice filled with an unshakeable certainty.

Their shared ritual

Exhaustion clung to Y/N like a second skin. The past three months had been a parade of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant, gnawing worry that comes with being a new parent.

But nestled in the crook of her arm, a tiny miracle slept soundly. Her daughter, in a quiet moment of shared hope, was a testament to the love that bloomed amidst the chaos.

She was a symphony of soft sighs and the occasional gurgle, her tiny fists clenched in a peaceful slumber. However, the moment Lewis's voice cut through the quiet of the room, her whole world seemed to shift.

"Hey there, my little champion," Lewis cooed, his voice a low murmur as he entered the nursery. The infant’s eyes, a pitch perfect copy of her dad’s brown ones, snapped open. A wide, gummy grin split her face, and a high-pitched squeal erupted from her tiny lungs.

Y/N watched the scene unfold with warmth washing over her. Lewis, ever the prodigy, had taken to parenthood like a natural. The same gentle persuasion he used on the racetrack was now employed to coax a smile from their daughter, his voice a soothing melody that calmed her fussy cries.

The transformation was remarkable. Y/N vividly recalled the first trimester, Lewis sheepishly confessing his anxieties about fatherhood to their unborn child. And throught the months a routine was created as every evening, he'd spend a quiet moment by Y/N's side, whispering words of encouragement and promises of love to the tiny bump.

"Alright, little one," Lewis would say, his voice barely above a whisper, "we're going to face whatever comes our way, as a team, okay?"

Those nightly pep talks, once a source of amusement for Y/N, now seemed almost prophetic. The kid, it seemed, recognized Lewis's voice as a source of comfort, a familiar sound that echoed the evenings spent nestled safely inside Y/N, bathed in the sound of his love.

Lewis, oblivious to the internal monologue playing in Y/N's head, scooped the baby into his arms, his face alight with a radiant joy. He bounced her gently, singing a silly, made-up song about a race car driver and a tiny princess. Captivated by her father's performance, the infant cooed and gurgled in response, her tiny hand reaching out to grab a lock of Lewis's dark braids.

Watching them together, a lump formed in Y/N's throat. The exhaustion that had threatened to consume her throughout the day had faded away, replaced by a fierce and overwhelming love. There, in the quiet sanctuary of the nursery, their team flourished – united by an invisible thread of shared love, a love story whispered before their daughter ever entered the world.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

[beckyninja]

Accused

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader (sort of)

Warnings: mob violence

Description: While serving in the DeathWatch, Titus meets the woman who will come to mean more to him than he ever thought.

Another long prequel for you guys! This one takes place some time before the events of Revelation.

You ran.

Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you fled down the dry stream bed. High ravine walls on either side blocked the moonlight. You fled blind, guided only by memory. It wasn’t enough.

You slammed into an unseen boulder. Momentum hurled you forward onto the ground, skin scraping from your hands and knees. You let out a short cry, then froze.

Did they hear?

You strained your ears and heard nothing. But that did not comfort you. Your pursuers had spent lifetimes hunting wary prey in these mountains. Still, after a few minutes of stillness, you began to hope.

 Perhaps they’ve given up.

From your prone position, you fought to see through the darkness ahead. The Angels’ ship. Your only chance of salvation. It had to be there!

You opened your mouth to scream. “Help m-”

Hands clamped onto your face and shoulders. You bit and struggled as they lifted you off the ground, dragging you backwards.

A high, mad laugh chilled your blood.

“You will burn, Heretic! Burn!”

***

The Day Before

“Father Cortez, this insanity must end!”

You stood outside the village’s little church, shawl pulled tight against your shoulders, and glared at the priest. He glared back. His red-rimmed eyes seemed to burn within their sockets. Blood stained his robes.

He’s been flogging himself again.

Your lips twisted. “How many more must die before you admit the uselessness of-”

“Silence!” Spittle sprayed from the priest’s mouth. “How dare you challenge me, girl!”

You sighed. Only a few years older than you, and yet he called you “girl.” You looked around at the crowd of villagers milling uneasily. Men, women, and children worn ragged by the terror of the past few months. Their eyes flickered between you and the priest.

“Friends,” you smiled, “for four generations the women of my family have tended your hurts, healed your sick, and delivered your children. I may be young. But I studied at the feet of my mother and grandmother before me. You trusted them.” 

“Will you not trust me?”

Marta, the elderly church caretaker, finally spoke. “What would you have us do, Healer?”

You nodded to her. “We must send someone down-mountain, into the city. We must call for aid-”

“No!” The Priest shrieked. “These attacks are a test sent from the God-Emperor Himself! To purify and strengthen our faith!”

Your temper frayed. “And does the Emperor use xenos monsters as his instruments now, Father? Does He demand we sacrifice humans to them? Innocents?”

“Heretics!”

“Was little Carlos a heretic, Cortez? At seven years old?” You pushed through the crowd to point a finger directly in his face. “Was Old Inez, who never went a day without praying in this very church?” 

You straightened your spine and loomed over the little man. “With each villager bound and left for these beasts, you promised they would leave. Have they? No!” You spun back to face the crowd. “Because they are no punishment! They are-”

A metallic roar cut off your words. From over the peaks surrounding the village, came a ship the likes of which you had never seen. The crowd shrieked and scattered as it hovered directly over their heads. For a minute it lingered there, sending dust-filled wind whipping through the square. Then, it rose once again and veered toward the south, beyond the ravine.

You stood amidst chaos. In front of you, families dove into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. Behind you, Father Cortez ranted and raved.

Upon the side of the ship a symbol had been carved: A skull and crossbones over an elaborate “I”. 

Hope flickered in your heart.

***

“What are they?” Marta whimpered from her place next to you.

You peered through the church’s dirty window. An hour or so after the ship flew over the village, a few hunters had heard heavy footfalls coming up the ravine. For the second time that day people locked themselves within their huts and prayed to the Emperor.

It seemed He had finally heard them.

“The Emperor’s Angels.” You breathed.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded. “My great-grandmother saw one once, my grandmother told me.”

Giants in armor who brought salvation to the faithful and destruction to the enemy.

They were certainly giant. But the Angel in your grandmother’s story had worn brightly colored armor, whereas these wore black. You squinted through the grime and could just make out a couple of insignias painted on the massive shoulders: some sort of canine head and a stylized cross.

One bore no insignia at all. A red hood covered his helmet. You watched him gesture to the others. 

“What are they doing here?” Marta’s voice shook.

“I think… I hope they might be-”

“It is none of our concern!”

Father Cortez’s bony hands gripped your and Marta’s shoulders. He dragged you backwards with surprising strength. The older woman tumbled to the floor with a pained cry. You knelt to help her, shooting the priest a look of disgust.

He ignored you. “Whatever they are here for, we should leave them to it.”

“And what if they’re here to help us?”

“We need no such help! The Emperor provides!”

“By the Throne,” you pressed your hands to your eyes, “yes. You’re right, Father. And He has provided.”

You pointed out the window. “There is His provision! Walking down our main street!”

“What… what are you going to do?” Marta whispered.

“If they are here to stop the xenos,” you muttered, half to yourself, “then they need to know about the earthquake, and the cave up on Black Peak.”

The priest cackled. “And what makes you so sure they don’t already know, girl?”

“Cortez!” You whirled on him. “Enough with the ‘girl’! I remember when you were a pimple-faced brat who delighted in pulling the legs off insects.”

If anything, you’ve only gotten worse since your ordination.

The priest drew back into the corner of the smoky church.

“Yes, go sulk and leave me be.” You took a deep breath and made for the door.

Marta shrilled your name. You waved the old woman’s concerns away, clinging to what little courage you’d managed to gather.

“I’m going to help, if I can.”

***

Idiot. Idiot! Throne damned, idiot! 

Five helmeted heads had turned your way when you pushed open the church’s door and stepped into the square. A wave of dread washed over you, every primal instinct you possessed screaming at you to run.

Oh Throne, they’re so… big!

You knew large animals. Before the attacks began, the village had made its living hunting the lumbering beasts that lived among the peaks and ravines. Once you’d even seen one of the great predatory felines.

This moment reminded you of that encounter. But, instead of dashing back to safety, you continued toward the predators. You kept your hands held out in front of you.

I’m no threat. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from your lips. As if these behemoths would ever consider me one!

When you’d gotten within twenty feet, the Angel in the red hood raised a hand, palm facing you. He didn’t speak, but you felt the command as if he’d shouted. You halted, dropping to your knees and bowing your head.

You doubted your trembling legs would have carried you much farther, anyway.

An odd hissing, crackling noise seemed to come from the Angels’ direction. You didn’t dare look up as footsteps approached.

“Rise.”

The deep voice shook you from the inside out. You gasped and tried to comply, only for your legs to give out. A great, armored gauntlet grasped your upper arm, steadying you. You looked up into the lenses of the hooded Angel’s helmet.

For an instant, you swore you met his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, then, against all reason, calmed.

He won’t hurt me.

You didn’t know where the conviction came from. You just knew it to be true.

“Who are you?”

You told him your name. “I…I am the Healer of this village.” You remembered your grandmother’s story and hastily added, “M-my Lord.”

“Are you alone here?”

“N-no, my Lord. The others are afraid.”

A laugh, almost a bark, came from one of the other Angels. “And ye are not? Plucky little lass.”

Another gave a growl. “Commander, we should not linger.”

The Commander never looked away from you. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I…,” you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself, “I hope you are here to help us, my Lord. Against the xenos.”

A soft intake of breath, as if in surprise. “What do you know of xenos?”

“My great-grandmother came to this world on a refugee ship, my Lord. She told my grandmother of the Enemies of Mankind and their horrors.” 

Silence, except for that hissing, crackling noise again.

You swallowed, desperation making you bold. “Please, my Lord, I think I can help.”

***

“... after the earthquake, some of our hunters reported a new cave opening up on Black Peak. A few boys decided to explore it. They never returned.” 

You scampered over another boulder on the trail. You’d climbed this path dozens of times in your life, but it had become more difficult since the quake. Your foot slipped on a patch of loose shale.

Once again, an armored hand reached out to steady you. You smiled up at the Commander. Strange, the others still unnerved you, but not him. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He gave the barest nod. “Continue.”

“Well, that night the attacks began. They only ever come after dark, and they only ever take one person. Oh.”

Just ahead, an entire rock formation had collapsed on the trail. You watched the other Angels step over the rubble with minimal effort, and looked for a way to do the same. Suddenly, you felt hands at your waist.

The Commander lifted you like a child, settling you in the crook of one arm as he jumped the obstacle. One of the other Angels, the one with the canine head on his pauldron, looked back and chuckled.

“Oh! Um, thank you again, my Lord.” 

You waited for him to set you on your feet. He didn’t, continuing up the mountain path.

“It will be faster this way.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You blurted.

“You are not. Continue.”

“R-right. Um, yes. The survivors say the creatures are like great insects, but made of metal.”

“Mmm.”

You wracked your memory for anything else. “Their eyes… they glowed green.” 

The giant carrying you stiffened. You had no time to wonder about it before you spotted a great black opening in the mountainside far above you.

“There it is!”

The hissing, crackling noise again. All five Angels came to a halt, peering up at the cavern. The Commander placed you on the ground.

“Go back.”

You nodded. On the one hand, you were glad to be away. On the other…

“Will you be alright?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. One of the Angels guffawed, the sound starting a few small rock slides in the distance. You felt another’s glare like a brand on your skin.

“Of all the insolent-”

The Commander held up a hand, silencing him. “We will be fine. Go.”

You turned, shame heating your face, when he spoke again, softer than before. “My thanks.”

***

Halfway down the trail, you heard explosions, followed by rumbling chatter you assumed came from the Angels weapons. Plumes of smoke rose from the Peak.

God-Emperor, protect your Angels as they do battle in Your name.

Especially the kind one. 

Your cheeks heated again and you scrambled back down the path. Would he remember you? You doubted it. Just an insignificant girl from an insignificant village on an insignificant world. You, however, would remember him for the rest of your life.

Another story to tell your own children, one day.

Without the Commander to carry you over the taller obstacles, it took the rest of the day to return to the village. The sun had begun to set. You smiled. Only yesterday the thought of being out after dark would have sent you sprinting in terror. But now…

You nearly skipped down the last stretch of path. You were hungry, thirsty, and tired. But you could not wait to tell your friends the news. They no longer needed to be afraid. No more need be sacrificed to the monsters in the dark.

Your mood soured at that thought. 

None needed to be sacrificed in the first place.

Hopefully, now that the danger was past, the villagers would see how twisted Father Cortez had become. Perhaps you could rally them, convince them to send him back to the city. The village could request a new spiritual leader.

The streets were deserted. You heard voices in the direction of the church. A strange red glow seemed to emanate from that direction as well. A celebration? You smiled and broke into a run. You had much to celebrate.

A bonfire blazed in the center of the square. Father Cortez stood before it, gesticulating wildly. Before him every villager in the settlement watched with rapt attention. 

As you neared, you began to make out his words.

“...Emperor, in His mercy, sent His angels to relieve our suffering!”

Finally, something you and I agree on, Cortez.

“But the stain of heresy still remains!”

You jerked to a halt at the rear of the crowd. 

What?!

“We must find the true cause of our afflictions and cleanse it through flame! Lest the monsters return to ravage us once more!”

To your horror, the crowd murmured in assent. You noticed their postures, the looks in their eyes, and wondered what lies Cortez had been pouring in their ears during your absence. They reminded you of nothing so much as a herd of panicked prey animals.

But you’d calmed them before.

You began to move through the crowd. You smiled at the people you knew as friends, people your family had done nothing but help for four generations. Most refused to meet your gaze. Some glared, firelight dancing in their eyes.

Cortez saw you.

“There!” He shrieked. “The one who denied the Emperor’s justice! The dissenter! The trouble-maker! The outsider!” His lips curled back into a feral snarl. “The Heretic!”

You looked once more into the faces of the villagers around you. What you saw there chilled your blood.

You ran.

***

Present

“No!” You struggled in the grasp of the mob, searching desperately for a friendly face. “Lonzo, Maria, Berto! You know me! Help me!”

“Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!”

The damning chant pounded in your skull. Hands clawed at you, raking your skin and tearing at your clothes. You felt a hunk of your hair yanked out. A fist struck you in the face, followed by blows to the ribs and stomach. You heaved, tasting blood.

“Bring her here!” Cortez’s voice screamed out above the noise.

The mob threw you onto the ground before the bonfire. Its heat scorched your bloodied skin. One eye swelled closed, but you could still see Cortez standing above you. The firelight made him look like a daemon out of his own sermons.

You gritted your teeth and rocked up onto your knees. “Bastard! If there is someone to be blamed for all our misery, it’s you!”

His boot met the side of your head. You collapsed back into the dirt, ears ringing.

All around you, faces you recognized. Maria, whose twins you’d helped your mother deliver. Berto, who you’d spent weeks nursing through a fever. Lonzo, who had danced with you at the last midwinter festival. 

You saw Marta and reached out a hand. She spit on it.

“Why?” You whispered through split lips.

If you’d made it to the Angels’ ship, if they’d told everyone how you helped, would it have even made a difference? Or would Cortez have simply waited for them to leave before he accused you?

Accused. 

The priest pointed down at you.

Accused.

The crowd roared for blood.

Accused.

You felt yourself dragged upright and shoved toward the bonfire. You didn’t fight. You had no fight left. 

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

You closed your eyes.

“Enough!”

Everything went silent save for the crackle of the flames. The hands released you, and you crumpled to the ground once again. You heard the familiar tread of armored feet. Then gauntleted hands lifted you gently, so very gently, and you looked into a hooded, helmeted face.

I’m safe.

The Commander towered above the cowering mob. Dimly, you heard Cortez babbling something, sounding as if he’d gone truly insane. The Commander shifted you to one arm.

You watched him reach down and lift the gibbering priest by his collar. 

“Fool.”

With an almost casual flick of his arm, the Angel tossed the priest on his own bonfire.

***

You awoke to the light of dawn. You lay on a hard, metallic surface, some kind of cloth draped over your body. Confusion clouded your thoughts, and you tried to sit up.

Pain shot through every limb.

“Easy, easy now.” A voice soothed. “Here, drink this.”

Some kind of cup was brought to your lips and you drank, coughing at the acrid taste. The pain began to fade. You blinked and looked around.

An older woman knelt at your side. She was clothed in a black robe with the symbol of a canine head stitched on its shoulder. Three scars, like the mark of a claw, ridged her cheek and gave her a fearsome look.

But her eyes were kind when she smiled.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” The woman patted your shoulder with a broad, rough hand. “I’m no apothecary, but I do know how to mix the odd painkiller in a pinch. Can ye stand?”

She helped you to your feet. You looked around, realizing you stood in the belly of the ship you’d seen fly over yesterday. The Angel’s ship.

Throne, was it only yesterday?

A ramp lay open to the ground outside. Through the dawn glare, you recognized the rocky ravine. A shudder ran through you.

The woman noticed. “Aye. We’re still on your rock of a homeworld.” She spat. “Allfather curse it!”

Your head spun. “How? Why?”

She patted your shoulder. “I’m sure the Commander will explain. He’s a decent sort, for a Black Shield.” She gave you an odd, knowing smile. “I think you’ll find yer a lucky one after all.”

“I don’t-”

“Frigg!” A familiar voice bellowed. “Curse it, woman! Is the lass awake yet?”

The woman snorted and stood. “Aye, she is, m’lord!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, aye, yer lucky. Lucky the Commander picked ye instead of him.”

“Bring her out, then!”

The woman, Frigg, fussed over you. “Now, ye be a good lass and do as yer told and ye’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”

Head spinning, you staggered down the ramp. Four of the Angels stood clustered off to one side, surrounding a crate of some sort. They all looked much the same as you had seen them before. Perhaps a few more dents in their armor.

The one with the canine insignia barked a laugh as you appeared. He elbowed the one with the cross insignia, who growled under his breath.

“Waste of time.”

“Hah! Simmer down, Templar. The Commander led us to a good fight. If he wants a new little serf girl out of it, what is the harm, eh?”

Serf?

“Brother Ulfar, Brother Beren. Load the artifact onto the Thunder Hawk.”

The Commander appeared from the other side of the ship. He didn’t have his hooded cloak. With a start, you realized it was draped over your shoulders. Your face burned and you hurried down the ramp as quickly as you could, holding it out toward him.

You tripped. Yet again, he steadied you.

“Clumsy.” The word held no anger.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord. I just…I just wanted to…” you sighed, giving up. “Thank you.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed his helmet. 

You almost stopped breathing. His face was a mass of scars. Metal studs of some kind dotted one side of his forehead. His lips curved in a stoic frown. You felt you should be frightened.

But his eyes…

Warm and weary and sad. They looked down into yours.

“You cannot return to your home.”

All of a sudden, everything threatened to overwhelm you. You covered your face with your hands. Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“F-forgive me, m-my Lord. I-”

“You have shown courage.”

You did not feel especially courageous in the moment. He continued.

“I would have you come with me.”

You gasped and stared up at him through the blur of tears. Brother Ulfar’s words came back to you.

“As a… a serf?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that means, my Lord.”

He explained. You would tend to his quarters and armor, cleaning, mending, and performing whatever menial work was required. 

“In return, you will be fed, clothed, and educated.” He hesitated, then to your astonishment, sank to one knee. “And I swear by my oath as an Ultra- as an Astartes, I will never let you come to harm again.”

You shook your head. “Why?”

He didn’t seem to mind that you’d forgotten to add “my Lord”. “I know the pain of a false accusation. I know how deep betrayal can cut. I,” he looked almost bashful, “would spare you some of that pain, if I can.”

By the Throne, you saw empathy in those eyes. Frigg had been right. He was a decent man.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and took a deep breath. “Then I will try and serve you as best as I am able, my Lord.”  

One of the corners of his mouth ticked upward. He nodded and stood, replacing his helmet.

“Follow.”

“My Lord? One more question, if I may?”

He turned back toward you.

“May I know your name?”

Another long pause. He nodded toward the other Angels.

“They know me as ‘Nullus’. In the hearing of others, you will address me as such.” You heard a long breath. “In private, you may call me Titus.”

You didn’t know what this new life would hold, and you doubted it would be easy. But one thing you were certain of.

You would follow Titus anywhere.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

Once again, please comment if you'd like to be tagged in any further work.

[tubbytarchia]

To all the nosy neighbour enjoyers, thank you for being that. Anyway here's my propaganda!! Just some of my favorite moments tee hee

Sorry if my BigB looks weird (I tried really hard :( ) I'll pretend that that's intentional given my rabbit hybrid BigB thoughts under cut:

I made a little post about this before but basically BigB has such rabbit behavior:

1. Cannot help but keep burying himself underground like it's his natural habitat (seriously he comes back on ground to build a house on a mountain and then immediately makes an elaborate underground hideout again. Or how he built backrooms in SL and kept retreating there. Or how he was literally underground when he ran into Pearl, for Pearl to inform him that it was night time and BigB immediately wanting to retreat back underground. Or how he was underground for almost the entire "red winter is coming" session. Or)

2. Often fidgety around others

3. Constantly cautious but doesn't let nervousness show if there is any

4. More prone to keeping distance and watching rather than engaging

Idk he is extremely prey animal behavior (positive, affectionate) and I can never see him as anything but a rabbit now. I considered giving him rabbit legs too but then I was like nah. Because I think him having weird rabbit posture in a mostly human body contributes some inherent awkwardness and a bit of uncannines (fitting with his gaslighting tendencies). After all he's kind of out of his element above ground (or that's how he acts!) and that's when people are going to be seeing him. But just you wait till he stands tall for a change to tell someone off (like Cleo in SL or Scott in LimL). And with such posture, he inadvertently makes himself look smaller, which certainly would help him weasel his way out of undesired situations like he often does, eg by talking people into pitying him to save himself from dying. I'd also like to imagine him to be smart enough to manipulate his rabbit ears to not betray how he's feeling or to make others think he's feeling a certain way, unless he feels particularly threatened or something. That's maybe half the appeal of animal ears to me, that they can be an added tool for emoting, but a hybrid moving them in deliberate ways is a fun concept!

Oh and he has caving boots!!

I do kind of seethingly hate how he looks with his ears drawn back but I did the best I could. I really hate having human ears in addition to animal ears personally, but if I put his ears any further up where they'd look cuter (Pearl's antennae for comparision) it'll look really weird. Aghh whatever he's supposed to be awkward so whatever please ignore it Im going to cry

Also if you think the old design is cuter, it's almost certainly because of the lesser facial hair lol trust me!! And I changed the curly hair to be a bit less curly in likeness to Lee from Walking Dead because I did not realize that BigB's skin is basically that and I couldn't help myself. I was overall really unhappy with my old BigB design so yay for redesign. I swear its not just animal features that make things interesting for me...... maybe somewhat....

[saturngas]

Hello! I hope you are well 🩷

E It may sound cliché or a bit stupid, but I'm genuinely curious about the fandom's opinion on Gojo's ideal type. The few things I found are a little shallow and nothing very elaborate, or from a few years ago when we didn't have so much Gojo in the manga. SO WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THIS? 🥺

gojo’s ideal type

helloooo thank you so much for this ask. I love this kind of asks because they make me think hard hhaha

but anyways I really think gojo wouldn't have like an exact idea of an ideal type regarding personality and appearance, the only thing he would focus on/prefer is that his s/o understands him.

so we are hinted multiple times throughout the whole story that gojo feels alone, especially after geto's departure, and that the main reason is his unreachable strength. he is the strongest sorcerer. he doesn't really look for a super strong partner, but I would definitely think he prefers someone strong or with a cool technique.

some people affirm that gojo values people measuring their strength, and I kind of agree with it, but to say he only see the strength of people is wrong, I would say that he looks for people with potential (like he has stated before with megumi) and definitely people with a strong mindset.

so I really dont wanna make this a gojo's character analysis hahah sorry so ill answer your question directly, just wanted to make that clear before stating my beliefs.

I think gojo would settle for someone who thinks like him, regarding the jujutsu world. he wants to change it, so he wants people who think like him to be next to him.

if that person, like I said before, has a strong mindset and unbreakable personality, I think that would be a huge plus. I feel like gojo likes dense people, someone who doesn't really changes their opinion like super fast, someone in control of their beliefs.

now regarding a bit of personality, I think gojo would get along with almost all personalities. he is very smart and honestly very kind at heart, so he would look for positive traits in every personality. buuuut if I had to be a bit more specific, I think he would like a bit more a woman with a demanding personality. like not exactly someone who is dominant over him, but kind of. hahah he likes seeing someone trying to boss him around considering he is the strongest and can do anything he wants, so meeting someone with such guts makes him wanna know more about that person.

a kind person would also be a plus. well, not exactly super kind, but someone who helps others. lets remember he is a teacher after all, so he would look for someone who cares for others, especially the younger generation. I think he would prefer someone with a similar profession as his. it doesn't have to be an educator just like him, but like I said before, someone who cares for the youth.

a bit of an unpopular opinion hehe but I simply cant see gojo with someone who doesn't have a similar humor as his. like we always see people getting annoyed at gojo for being such an idiot, so I really think his partner needs to-has to be just as silly and goofball as he is. like someone who supports his jokes and antics. I cant see him with someone super serious or someone who is plainly boring.

I think the perfect match for gojo is someone with the same energetic and passionate energy as him. he would love someone who is also clingy or physical as him, I feel like he loves giving and receiving physical affection. that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the other love languages, but I think he loves receiving touches, words of affirmation, and service acts.

so in summary, I think gojo's ideal type would be someone who agrees with him/has the same purpose as him regarding the corrupted jujutsu sorcery, someone who is fraternal and supportive of the youth, someone who can match his silly and quirky personality, someone with a corresponding humor as his, someone physically and emotionally strong, someone passionate and intense about their own dreams and goals, someone who understands his position as the strongest and is there next to him anytime he needs reassurance, someone who can read him easily since he isn't overly open, and someone who would love him and demonstrate love just as him or even more (he would love that).

I definitely think he is a tits guy.

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks @soulaires <3 so guys right now im out of town so I won't be making super long and specific content for a few days. but once I get back to home ill be working on parts 2 of some fics :))

[whimsicalpolitical]

Thigh lover - Matty Healy

mdni 18+ in which you tell Matty you’re obsessed with his thighs and what you’ve always wanted to do with them.

content warning: thigh riding (obviously), male masturbation,

The sun shines brightly as you and Matty cruise down the highway. The car's low rumble is a comforting background, and you can't help but watch Matty as he drives. His eyes are on the road, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh.

You’re mesmerized by the sunlight on his tattoos. The tightness of his pants around his thighs accentuates every line and muscle. You trace the contours with your eyes, feeling a warm flush.

You’ve always had a thing for thighs, especially Matty���s. When he’s wearing jeans like today, they’re even tighter bringing his crotch and thighs to bear.

You have never gotten further than grinding on his lap or just innocently sitting on one thigh. Sadly. Because you want to get off on them, feel how they flex under you. God. You just don’t know how to tell him.

You’re open with kinks in your relationship. But it’s mostly Matty who wants to try new stuff, you are open as well, but you never suggest anything.

You don’t know how long you can go before climbing over the control to sit down on him and start grinding on his jeans.

You feel you panties get wet at the thought and you’re clenching your thighs, adjusting your position in the search for friction to give yourself some relief.

“You alright?”

Matty’s voice is a hit to reality. You look at him offering him a tiny smile. “Yep, just hot.”

He glances at you quickly before his eyes turn back to the road. "D'you need me to turn the AC on?"

"No, it's fine," you say, but your mind is racing. You cant stop thinking about him and you can’t even turn your eyes off of his thighs.

His hand sometimes resting on his right thigh, wanting to replace his hand with yours.

“You’re acting off, love.” Matty says, squeezing your hand to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, glancing at him and then quickly away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and desire. "It's nothing," you mutter, but you know you can't keep this to yourself much longer. The thought of his thighs under you, the way they would flex and move, is driving you wild.

“C’mon, spill it.” His eyes are narrowing slightly with concern. “You haven’t said one word the entire car ride.”

You nod, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I know. It's just... I feel weird bringing it up."

"Try me," he says gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

You take another deep breath, trying to gather your courage. "You know how you always tell me to let you know when I want to try something... in bed?"

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, f’ course,” smirks, “you want to try something?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously.

“Yes but, oh god, it’s not really something in bed I guess.”

He smiles at your nervousness, knowing exactly that you hate speaking up on those things.

“You got me, tell me. Want me to piss on you or what?” He jokes knowing damn well if you would ask him to do that it wouldn’t take long for him to actual fulfill your every desire.

You groan and your face flushes. You cover your face with your hands. “No, not that,” you stammer, peeking at him through your fingers.

Matty bursts into laughter, the sound filling the car. "I'm just kidding, love. But seriously, what's got you so flustered?"

You mumble into your hands a low “thighs,” which is definitely understandable for him but he always wants you to elaborate.

“What’s that?” He asks, both hands on his wheel now, pushing his hips up a bit to settle into his seat. You’ve been on the road for quite some time now and he’s complained every ten minutes that his ‘arse hurts.’

“Matty,” you say softly, maybe convincing him to act before asking you what you exactly mean.

“Nah, love,” he chuckles, “don’t know what you mean, what did you say.”

You turn your head to the window, looking at all the houses passing by, familiar houses. Which means you’re almost at Matty’s.

“You’ve got my attention. Out with it.”

“Fine,” you groan, looking at him again. “Your thighs.” You say, “I’ve been thinking about them.”

The shit eating grin on his face is making you more nervous but over all even wetter. “Forget about it Matty.”

“Love, c’mon ease up a bit yeah?” he says, his tone softening just a touch. “You’re not getting out of this one. You’ve got to spill the beans now.”

You sigh, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I just... I really want to try something with your thighs.”

His grin widens, and he shifts in his seat again, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Oh, now we’re getting somewhere. What exactly did you have in mind?”

You look at your lap, “want to grind on them.”

Matty licks his lips before his lips part, his breathing getting heavier. “Oh want to use ‘em hm? Get off on them, s’that it?”

Matty's suggestive response sends a shiver down your spine. You clear your throat, trying to maintain composure. "Yeah, I... I think it could be really hot." Your voice wavers slightly, betraying your nervousness.

“Fuckin’ yeah that’s hot,” he lets out a chuckle, looking at you. “Wanted to go home the whole day, now I have something to look forward to.”

You can’t help but smile at his response. “So you’re okay with it?”

“More than okay, love.” He says giving your thigh a playful squeeze. “If we weren’t two minutes away I’d pull over.”

You squeeze your thighs together, this time with Matty noticing. He pushes them apart with his hand. “Eager much?”

The next to minutes feel like hours, the giddiness spreading through your body as you can only imagine what’s going to happen when you get home.

And then you do get home and he’s already on the couch spreading his thighs, calling you over.

“C’mere now, can clean this up later. Want to make you feel good now.” He pats his right thigh and you can’t help but smile, walking towards him in your shorts. You settle down on his lap and he tuts, “not like this.”

You blush, he extends his arms to help bring you to your knees, lacing your fingers with his as he keeps you balanced while you shuffle forward to straddle his leg.

“S’ no different than grinding on my dick alright,” he grins, already taking the piss out of you. “Jesus, love, I’m already as excited as you.”

“Yeah?” Your teeth roll over your bottom lip, a flutter of excitement dancing in your belly.

“Fuck yes,” He grins up at you, head resting back on the couch "You get to enjoy yourself, and I get to watch while you do it. S’ some hot shit.”

You nod your head, excited, allowing yourself to rest your weight fully onto him. Immediately, the simple pressure of his wide thigh against your thin shorts is enough to send a surge of heat dancing up your spine.

Resting your hands on his shoulders to get comfortable, you lean in for a kiss, capturing his bottom lip between yours and dragging a sleepy little growl from his throat. He guides you slightly higher up his thigh, the shift in angle pushing your clothed clit tight against his leg making you whimper helplessly against his mouth. The rumble of Matty’s low chuckle vibrates warmly in his chest.

“Don’t hold back, show me what you want to do with m’ thighs.” murmurs reassuringly, hands resting firm either side of your hips, urging you to move.

The roll of your pelvis is tentative at first, figuring out what pressure and speed work for you. Settling into a rhythm, the friction builds a delicious pressure low in your belly. You feel yourself getting wetter with each grind against Matty’s thigh. An appreciative little groan from beneath you has your eyes opening to see him staring right between your legs - at the little damp spot you're marking him with.

His hand on the small of your back brings you towards his mouth, tongue sliding wantonly between your lips with a fiery possessiveness that makes you rub faster and tighter circles full of need against his thigh. You feel a coil tightening, pulling at your insides, when he stops, gripping your hips.

“Stand up f’ me,” you whine, pouting your lips and he laughs, kissing them. “Only f’ a second, need to get these off.”

You stand up infront of him and he quickly tugs the shorts off of you, looking down at your panties, the wet patch very visible. “Christ, darling, you fuckin’ love this.”

“Get back here,” he demands, pulling you back onto his thigh and you immediately start rocking your hips back and forth.

"Fuck," you whimper, thighs shaking slightly as you continue the abuse toward your swollen clit, somehow Matty’s jeans make the stimulation even better through your thin panties and it almost causes you to lurch forward in shock.

Matty chuckles at that as he throws his arms over the couch casually, "hm, feel good?" you nod quickly, too lost in your own pleasure to comprehend a word.

His hands slither onto your hips from behind and press you harder against Matty’s flexed thigh causing a silent scream to escape your lips.

Matty’s cock begins to twitch inside his already-too-tight pants and he unclasps his belt skillfully with one hand, undoing the button and lowering the fly.

“Keep using my thigh, want you to completely ruin my jeans.” You moan and nod in agreement your eyes trailing down his body to where Matty’s hand disappears in his jeans.

He’s pulling out his hard cock from his boxers, "you can’t believe how fuckin hot you look, riding my thigh like this" His other hand slides down from your hip to your knee, giving a light squeeze.

Matty swipes his tongue over his bottom lip before giving his cock a tug, “Christ.”

“Just like that, darling,” he groans, “can’t believe’ s the first time we’re doing this.” The lustful nature of his words alone sends a shiver down your spine, only encouraging your arousal as his leg bobs perfectly against your throbbing clit. Suddenly, the slick of Matty’s' tongue meet your neck, gliding down to your exposed clavicle as a familiar knot begins to wind in the pit of your stomach.

“M’ close.” You slip a breathy moan, pumping your cunt faster against your boyfriend's leg.

“S’ that so? Fuck-“ Matty grins, pulling your heat further against the rigorous motions of his leg - your agile fingers tugging at his shirt "Cum for me, darling." He strokes his cock still in a torturous pace, not wanting to cum without you.

“Make a mess, love,” you mewl into his shirt and clench around air, hips picking up speed while you grip his bicep. Matty’s thigh is damp with your arousal, the warmth seeping into the fabric and vaguely hitting his skin.

You feel his body shake with each passing stroke of his fist. The fact he is getting off to you getting off on him makes you shiver with delight. You lift your head from his shoulder and crash your lips against his messily; teeth closing, tongues swirling.

He speeds up his fist, grunting himself as his orgasm approaches. His eyes stay on you though the whole time, not wanting to miss a second of you grinding on his thigh.

“Oh- fuck,” You call out as your orgasm hits, chest rising and falling rather drastically as your body takes to instinctively adjusting.

“Good girl- fuck,” you ride out out your orgasm but instinctively you replace Matty’s hand with yours, jerking him off in a brutally fast pace. “Keep doing that.”

His lips press against yours once more, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before pushing it in. Your hands come up to cradle his face while you swallow down every single moan and grunt leaving Matty’s throat just as he spills himself into your fist.

You are both panting, grinning into each others mouths when you let your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this soaked,” he states, starting to prep kisses down your arm. “I think you need to tell me your fantasies more often.”

You giggle into his neck, leaving a kiss at the same spot, when you finally get off of his lap, the stickiness almost gluing yourself to him.

He smiles at the wet spot on his jeans proudly, “hm, are you feeling alright?”

You nod, watching him tug himself into his pants again to stand up, “more than alright Matty, thank you.”

“You’re joking, f’course baby, hottest thing you’ve ever done.”

You laugh, “definitely need to shower now.”

“Oh what a coincidence, me too.” He laughs standing up, already pulling his shirt over his head revealing his tattoos and his skin covered in some sweat. “Let’s go.”

He grits his teeth together before yanking you over his shoulder, playfully smacking the skin on the back of your thigh. “You’re my little minx”

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 4: Semantics

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova Word Count: 3.4k Summary: The interviews are over. The tour has been completed. You've made your decision. You accepted the position and will sign the contract. You're about to learn what that truly means.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: unknown use of organic sleep enhancers, manipulation, gaslighting, cult themes, entrapment, coercion

Notes: No notes, just tiny bits of information trickling in...

Previous: Consideration | Series List

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You wake up at the sound of a familiar knock, and Yelena bursts in as you blearily sit up, blinking your eyes open and stretching your limbs. 

She sweeps into the room, her blonde hair released from its earlier braid and bouncing with each energetic step. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" she chirps, her voice full of excitement. "We've got a big night ahead!" 

As your eyes adjust to the soft light, you notice she's not alone. Behind her, a staff member in crisp white uniform wheels in an ornate silver cart. 

"I thought you might be hungry after your nap," Yelena says, gesturing to the cart. "We've prepared a little pre-event snack for you." 

The staff member lifts the dome cover, revealing an elaborate charcuterie board that would make any food stylist weep with envy. The tantalizing aroma of various cheeses and cured meats wafts through the air, making your stomach rumble from the smell alone. It's a veritable work of art, with an array of cured meats arranged in delicate rosettes, an assortment of cheeses ranging from creamy bries to pungent blues, chunks of bread, crackers, and a rainbow of fresh and dried fruits from figs to strawberries, along with jams and some honey.

You chuckle. “Who in the world is going to eat all this?” you ask. 

Yelena laughs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I plan to make a good dent in this myself, but you can have what’s left."

She turns to the staff member, thanking them warmly before dismissing them with a nod. As the door closes behind them, Yelena claps her hands together. "Now, let's start getting you ready for the evening!"

With a bounce in her step, Yelena heads towards the bathroom. "I'm going to draw you a bath," she calls over her shoulder. "Trust me, you'll want to be thoroughly relaxed for tonight." 

Since you do feel the post-nap hunger, you snatch a few morsels from the charcuterie board as you hear the sound of rushing water begin to fill the tub. 

After satisfying the edge, you pluck off a couple of pieces of fruit and pad into the bathroom. Your breath catches once again at the sight. In the soft light, the emerald green marble and tile surfaces give off a radiant warmth. They’re accented with golden fixtures that gleam, their sleek lines contrasting beautifully with the organic swirls of the marble. The large soaking tub is already half full, and you can see wisps of steam rising from the water's surface. 

Yelena is bent over the tub, swirling her hand through the water. As you enter, she looks up with a grin. "I've added some special oils to the bath," she says. "They'll help you relax and prepare for the evening." 

The scent wafting from the tub is intoxicating - a blend of rose, jasmine, and something deeper and more exotic that you can't quite place. It makes your head swim pleasantly. 

"Go on, get in," Yelena urges, standing up and grabbing a fluffy white towel from a nearby rack. 

You hesitate for a moment, suddenly self-conscious. Yelena seems to sense your discomfort and gives you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'm not staying. I just volunteered to get you in the bath and steal some of the divine charcuterie while Natasha was still trying to wrap up. She’ll be here soon." With that, she sets the fluffy towel next to the tub, and exits the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

“I’m taking all the brie with me,” she calls back through the door and you laugh. 

Alone now, you slowly undress, letting your clothes fall to the cool tile floor. The steam from the bath envelops you, carrying that intoxicating scent. You step into the tub, and as you slip into the water, you can't help but let out a contented sigh. The temperature is perfect, and the oils seem to caress your skin, instantly melting away any lingering tension from the day.

There’s a panel for controlling the light and music in the bathroom within easy reach. You put on one of the more mellow artists and hum in contentment, reclining against the back of the tub. You close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth and the gentle lapping of the water against your skin. The soft music blends with the steam, creating a cocoon of tranquility around you. The scent of the oils seems to deepen, weaving tendrils of relaxation through your mind and body.

As you float in this state of blissful semi-consciousness, your thoughts drift and swirl like the wisps of steam above the water. Images from the day flash behind your closed eyelids - the grand tour, the mysterious conversations, the moment you sealed your fate by accepting the position. But these thoughts don't bring anxiety or tension. Instead, they feel distant and dreamlike, as if you're watching scenes from someone else's life.

At some point you fall asleep again  because you’re jolted back awake when someone squeezes your hand. 

It’s Natasha, knelt beside the tub, and you contract immediately to hug your knees to your chest, heat flooding your face and your stomach, trying to scrap at some level of modesty in your naked state. The water has cooled slightly, but it's still comfortably warm. 

Natasha's expression is gentle, but laced with something you can’t quite put your finger on. "Don't worry," she says softly, "there's nothing to be embarrassed about. We're all just bodies, after all."

You nod, still feeling flustered but trying to relax. It’s easy for her to say something like that, but you’re fully aware of your flaws and what you think are your flaws. You do think she genuinely means it - that she holds no poor judgment of the way you look - and that does more to quell your insecurities than anything else. 

"I'm sorry I startled you," Natasha continues. She cups your cheek, and it’s so unexpected it disarms you for a moment. "I knocked, but you must have been deeply asleep."

But before you can think more of her hand on your face, she stands gracefully, reaching for the fluffy towel Yelena had left earlier. "It's time to get you ready for the evening," she says, holding the towel open for you. "We don't want to be late."

You hesitate for a moment, then take a deep breath and stand up, water cascading off your body. Natasha wraps the towel around you without any hesitation before turning and striding out of the room without another word. 

"I didn't mean to fall asleep in the tub," you mumble, feeling a bit embarrassed.

Natasha chuckles softly, pulling some papers out of her briefcase on the table - undoubtedly your employment contract. "It's quite alright. You had quite a long day, but those bath oils tend to have that effect.. How do you feel?"

You pause, taking stock of your body. Despite the initial shock of waking, you feel surprisingly refreshed and relaxed. "Good," you say. "Really good, actually."

“Excellent. Now let’s get you ready,” she says, gesturing to a vanity with a guilded mirror. She’s already moved the charcuterie board there next to it. “I’ll take care of your hair and make up while you read over the contract. I can answer any questions, and then you can sign.”

You wonder if you should search the closet for a robe, but Natasha is looking at you expectantly, so you tuck the towel more securely around your chest and hurry to take your seat in front of her. 

The next hour passes in a whirlwind of activity and conversation as you review the document while Natasha sets to work on you. Her fingers move deftly, with skill and precision whether concentrating on your face or your hair. 

The contract before you is extensive, expounding on your role, basic responsibilities, and the various benefits of working for the Winged Heritage Foundation. There is not as much detail as you would like in relation to these aspects of the contract, but you imagine it’s partly to do with not wanting sensitive details in a hard copy and partly because the nature of your working responsibilities may shift as you work personally with the founder and how he best sees you fulfilling the needs that may come up. 

As you read, Natasha answers your questions with patience and clarity.

"What exactly does 'confidentiality extends beyond standard business practices' mean?" you ask, pointing to a clause that catches your eye.

Natasha pauses in her work, meeting your gaze in the mirror. "It means that some of what you'll learn and experience here goes beyond what you might consider typical corporate secrets. We deal with sensitive information that could have far-reaching consequences if it fell into the wrong hands."

You nod slowly, processing this insight. The vagueness of her answer doesn't escape you, but you're beginning to understand and accept that ambiguity is part of the Foundation's nature.

However, there are sections that are covered in the sort of detail that you would expect. The salary and benefits are perfectly outlined, including the wardrobe allowance, dental and healthcare, and investment options. There are sections about the housing benefit, travel expectations, and even a clause about potential relocation if necessary.

"Relocation?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Natasha meets your eyes in the mirror again. "We have facilities in various locations around the world. While it's not common, there may be occasions where your presence is required elsewhere for extended periods if there are affairs Mr. Barnes needs to tend to."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation at the prospect. The idea of travel is appealing, but the thought of being sent away to who knows where is less so. 

You continue reading, occasionally asking for clarification on certain points.

As you near the end of the contract, Natasha puts the finishing touches on your hair and makeup. "There," she says, stepping back to admire her work. "Take a look."

You turn to the mirror and your breath catches. The person staring back at you is both familiar and strangely new. The makeup specifically is subtle yet transformative, enhancing your features in a way that makes you look almost otherworldly.

"Whoa," you breathe, turning your head to see yourself from different angles.

Natasha smiles, clearly pleased with her handiwork. "Perfect," she praises, directly meeting your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you drop your gaze as your stomach flutters unexpectedly. 

“You ready to sign that thing?” she asks, and offers a pen over your shoulder. 

With a deep breath, you take the pen and begin signing your name on the various pages, initialing where necessary. Natasha watches you intently, her expression unreadable. 

As you finish signing the last page, she takes the contract from you and sets it aside. "Congratulations," she says with a smile. "You are now officially part of the Foundation." 

"Thank you," you say sincerely, turning to face Natasha. 

She nods, then reaches into her bag and pulls out a small black box. 

"To celebrate your signing, I have a little gift for you," she says, holding out the box. 

Curiosity piqued, you take the box and open it to find a sleek watch inside. "Wow," you say in awe, running your fingers over its smooth surface.

"It's tradition," Natasha explains. "All new members receive one as a symbol of our time together." 

Your eyes flick to see a watch on her wrist. You brush your finger over the crystal face, noting that aside from the standard dial that tells the time, it has a few other subdials for date, day of the week, and the moon cycle. You smile gratefully at her before putting on the watch on your wrist. It feels like an official initiation into this secretive world. 

“Thank you, again.”

Natasha shrugs one shoulder, but it’s more of a demure gesture than flippant. “It looks good on you.”

You glance at your wrist again, and smile. In the moment of quiet, you register the faint sounds of music, voices, and laughter drifting up from the grounds below, and you look up to notice that one of the windows has been cracked open. A small rush of anticipation surges through you, and you look back to Natasha. 

She’s setting another case on the vanity, and opens it to reveal an exquisite crown of iridescent blue flowers - and you remember seeing them earlier in the day as you toured the gardens. Luna’s Tears. 

“This is for you to wear tonight,” she says, tracing her fingers delicately over the blooms. 

It’s gorgeous, but you frown. “Is that - will everyone -”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Only for you during the ritual, as you are our tribute.”

Your laugh bubbles out, half sarcastic, half nervous. “What, like a sacrifice?”

“Yes and no,” she responds easily. “Technically a sacrifice is something of great personal value you give of yourself, whereas an offering is merely a gift. So I will be offering you up, but you will be sacrificing yourself.”

Your jaw drops. “Sorry, what?” you exclaim. 

And suddenly one word is resounding in your head.

Cult. Cult. Cult.

“During the full moon ritual tonight.”

Cult. Cult. Cult. 

“No.” You shake your head. “No.”

“At midnight, you will be presented as a tribute on the altar to our founder, James Buchanan Barnes. Sacrifice for you, offering from us.”

“I’m not interested in the semantics of your cult!” You stand and start backing away from the redhead, who seems completely unfazed by your reaction. 

“You’re not interested,” she agrees, “you’re fascinated.” 

Cult. Cult. Cult. Cult. Cult.

You shake your head, your chest tightening. She’s not wrong, but she’s not right. 

Cult. Cult.

Natasha takes a step toward you, cautious the way one approaches a spooked animal to soothe it. 

“But I’m not a virgin!” you protest.

You are acutely aware that you’re still only in a towel as she moves closer. 

“That’s archaic rhetoric, actually. We only need an offering who isn’t corrupt.” 

Cult. Cult. Cult.

“You can’t do this! And you can’t keep me here!”

“Technically that’s true, but I think you may want to review the terms and conditions of your contract before you make any rash decisions.”

And with that advice, she pauses her pursuit, and waves you back over to the vanity where you left the contract. 

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether it’s a trap, but you realize this is all a trap, and now you need to know what mistake you made in signing and rush back across the room, clutching the towel to keep it securely around you. You hastily flip to the final page with the terms and conditions and start at the top. 

It spells out that you’re an at-will employee, so you or the Foundation can terminate your employment with or without cause, at any point, with or without notice. 

“This will be a valuable lesson in the importance of being concerned with details and semantics. The item that will make you more amenable to fulfilling your contract is number eight - financial recoupment.”

You hold your breath, eyes darting down the page until you see the bold numeral eight and its subject - FINANCIAL RECOUPMENT. 

If the employee terminates this contract within the first twelve months or fails to adhere to the agreements herein, the employee will be responsible for reimbursing the Winged Heritage Foundation for all costs incurred for employment on their behalf, salary and healthcare costs excluded. 

You tentatively exhale. “Great, I’ll give back the watch, and you can let me go.”

The huff of Natasha’s laugh hits your bare shoulder, and you spin around. She had moved to stand directly being you in complete silence. You back up, bumping up against the edge of the vanity, clutching at the towel again. 

“The watch was a gift, so I won’t take offense, but let’s start with the private car service we arranged to bring you here this morning. Including the tip, it would be an uncomfortable stretch for you to shell out three hundred dollars for that cost, but that’s only the first drop in the deluge. We know your finances from top to bottom because we had our recruitment team working up a comprehensive background file on you for a full week. I’ll pull the specific report on the billable hours anyone who worked on your case spent. Add to that our business lunch on the terrace and the afternoon tea service. I’ll exclude the charcuterie board because that was just a thoughtful gesture after you accepted the position.”

Your eyes start to well with tears as the amounts pile up in a heap you know you can not afford. 

“Then, of course, we decorated and refurnished these living quarters for your immediate habitation, and the closet was fully outfitted with all wardrobe aspects, shoes, and accessories.”

Your mind reels as you try to process the staggering sum you'd be responsible for. The luxurious room, the designer clothes in the closet, even the bath oils and cosmetics- it all takes on a sinister new light. You feel sick as you realize how thoroughly they've ensnared you.

"How… how much?" you manage to choke out.

Natasha's lips curve into a small, satisfied smile. "Let's just say it's well into six figures. Far more than you could hope to repay anytime soon."

You slump against the vanity, your legs suddenly weak. The towel slips, but you barely notice. "This can't be happening," you whisper.

"Oh, but it is," Natasha says, her voice soft but firm. She puts a her hand on your shoulder, a gesture that would be comforting in other circumstances, but not now. 

"I understand this is overwhelming,” she pivots, her voice almost sympathetic. “But remember, you sought us out. You pursued this opportunity aggressively and enthusiastically. Four interviews and now, here you are."

You shake your head, desperately trying to clear it. "But I didn't know… I mean, I never agreed to…"

"Didn't you?" Natasha interrupts gently. "We've been quite open about our unconventional nature from the start. You were intrigued by the mystery, drawn to the power, prestige, and opportunity. I said you would be working directly with our founder. And now you're balking at the reality?"

Her words sting because there's truth in them. You had been fascinated, had pushed to be the most competitive and attractive candidate you could, wanting them to select you, despite the questions and uncertainty. 

"But I didn't know it was a cult," you protest, your voice cracking. "I didn't agree to be sacrificed."

Natasha sighs, her hand still on your shoulder. "We're not a cult, we're a select group with shared values and goals. And as I explained, you're not being sacrificed in the way you're imagining. This is an honor, a chance to be part of something greater."

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. Natasha's hand remains on your shoulder, her thumb tracing small circles just below your collar bone. Despite everything, her touch is oddly comforting.

"This is a lot to process," she says softly. "But I meant what I said earlier - I have a good feeling about you. You're here for a reason."

You open your eyes and meet her gaze. There's a warmth there, an understanding that catches you off guard.

"What will happen to me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Nothing you won't enjoy, I promise. The ritual is intense, yes, but it's also beautiful. Transformative. You'll be giving yourself over to something greater, becoming part of our us in the deepest sense."

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "What exactly will happen to me?" you press. 

Natasha's expression softens slightly. "You'll be presented to our founder, James Barnes. He'll decide if you're worthy to join our inner circle. If you are, you'll be initiated. If not..." she trails off, leaving the alternative unspoken.

You know you don’t have a choice, but you take in one, two deep breaths, before you answer. 

“Okay,” you agree, resigned to your fate.

“There’s the answer we all want,” she replies. 

NEXT PART: PREPARATION

Sorry for the delay of chapter! I'd left my laptop at work, so I didn't have access to posting the chapter.

Thoughts? Theories? Reactions to a pretty big revelation?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Whelmed 🩷

Even Jihoon needs to be taken care of sometimes.

Fluff - woozi x gn!reader

Maybe I'm projecting jussssst a lil bit. Anyway, Happy Birth Month, my precious, precious boy!!

AO3 link

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: crying, meltdown, a lil hurt/comfort, jihoon is stressed and needs maximum comfort

₊˚⊹ 🩷🩷🩷꒰.^₃^꒱☆⋆｡

You walk into the Universe Factory and the first thing you see is Jihoon laying face down on the couch. It’s silent in the room, which is incredibly rare, except for the sounds of heavy breathing and sniffles. You walk slowly toward the couch and plop down on the edge of it. Jihoon makes some room for you without lifting his face. Your hand finds his back to start rubbing it comfortingly.

“Want to talk about it?” you ask, your voice softly above a whisper.

“I got really overwhelmed.” Jihoon’s small voice is muffled by the cushions of the seat. He finally turns around to face you, now laying on his back. His nose and eyes are tinged red, and his face is slightly shining from a few tears left there. He’s been done crying for a while. He looks and feels small, however, and moves your hand to pat his tummy, still craving your touch.

“That’s okay. Want to go to my place to get whelmed?” you offer.

Jihoon lets out a laugh, a smile finally appearing on his face. “Is that even a word?”

“I don’t know, but my offer still stands.” You lift an eyebrow to him and return the smile.

He takes a deep breath and exhales an “Okay.” 

You begin to stand up and take a moment to look out of the window. The sun just went down. It’s still early in the night, however, since Jihoon usually ends his work past midnight. Only special circumstances like dinner plans or events get him to call it quits early, and even then, he just ends up back in the studio, producing away. Tonight is an extremely rare circumstance. One in which work stops because it absolutely has to or it will destroy the boy’s mind. It’s only ever happened one other time since you two started dating. You’re ready for it much better this time, knowing all he wants is to be taken care of and to not have to think about anything.

You wait for Jihoon to stand up and follow your lead, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he puffs out his cheeks and reaches up for you, wanting you to lift him to his feet. He looks insanely adorable, even if there are still the dying embers of a meltdown still glowing on his face. You grab his hands and pull him up to a seated position then finally up to his feet. You are determined to make him feel better tonight, any way you can. 

“Carry me,” he pouts. 

You giggle at the suggestion, knowing exactly how he feels. “I would if I could.” You continue to keep the mood really light and joking as you leave the building and walk to your apartment building. You carry Jihoon’s bag for him, and he pays for some snacks at a convenience store. 

Once you make it into your apartment, you both immediately change into your fluffiest, comfiest clothes. Jihoon sits comfortably on the couch, picking something to watch while you make popcorn and pour your drinks into cute mason jars. You each picked out some candy to share and an ice cream treat to store in the freezer for later, as well. You come to the living room and set down the popcorn bowl and drinks and find Jihoon with his eyebrows furrowed as he scrolls through every streaming platform there is, trying to find something suitable.

“This is impossible,” he huffs.

“What are you looking for?” you plop next to him and throw a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“I don’t know. Something good.” His response isn’t very elaborate.

“A K-Drama?” you ask.

“No, I want something I don’t have to think too hard about.”

“Then what about a kids’ cartoon? Like Bluey,” you suggest.

“No, no. I’m not in the mood for something for kids.” He sticks out his tongue while he scrolls. His cuteness is going to send you into an overload. Usually, he takes charge of things and lets you be the cute one. When he gets like this, it’s such a special sight for you to take in all the softness he locks away behind his more serious personality.

You are just happy to be next to him, watching him go through each genre until something strikes him. You kind of zone out merrily, until you hear slight groaning next to you. Jihoon’s face is twisted up in frustration. He’s getting overwhelmed again and fusses over the TV remote.

“I can’t choose,” he says, voice choking up a little bit.

You take the initiative to place your hand on his and gently set the remote down on the coffee table. You place your other hand on his cheek and turn him to face you. You smile and kiss his nose while softly assuring, “It’s okay. They give way too many options, right? If you want, I can pick, okay?”

Jihoon’s hand intertwines with yours, grabbing at your fingers and rubbing your palms. He nods and breathes, calming down more and more. You turn your attention to the TV and select a shojo anime you both have seen about a million times and restart it from the first episode. The tension you both were once holding onto in your shoulders finally relaxes as you both sit back and watch the opening credits. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” you say as you jolt up from your seat and walk toward your bedroom. “Be right back.” 

Jihoon follows you with eyes wide until you disappear into your room. He’s curious why you’ve run off and how long your errand will take. Not long, apparently, as you reappear within a minute holding velvet soft plushies for you both to cuddle. You return to your seat and settle into the back cushion of the couch placing a cat plushie in Jihoon’s arms. You place a bear plushie on the opposite side of you and let Jihoon settle into your outstretched arm, laying his head on your chest. It’s a position you usually take when you watch TV together, and you are glad he finds your chest as comfortable and secure as you find his.

The popcorn disappears about a quarter of the way into the second episode. You didn’t realize how hungry you were. You sit idly watching the cute female protagonist miss all the cues that the people around her are instantly infatuated with her. You try to focus on the cute little plot, but you are interrupted by a small growling sound.

You look at Jihoon then to his stomach then back to his face. His eyes are wide, and his face is red. You laugh quietly, “Ready for candy?”

“Actually, can we make ramen? I’m hungry for more than snacks.” 

“Of course, coming right up!” you say as you get up to move to the kitchen. It’s a little surprising when footsteps follow. “You want to help?” you question your sudden shadow.

Jihoon nods his head silently. For what it’s worth, he does fill a pot with water while you find a few packs of ramen. While the water boils, however, his version of helping beyond that is just to stand behind you with his arms around your waist, laying his head on your back. This kind of white noise is your favorite. Nothing but low TV chatter from the characters in a sweet shojo, the sound of water boiling, and soft breathing. You’re relaxed and hope that Jihoon feels the same way. You want him to decompress and let go of all the stress of the day. You know that eventually, he will have to talk about it to process it though. For now, you stir the pot with long chopsticks making sure the noodles are not too hard and not too soft.

You bring the pot and two pairs of chopsticks to the coffee table, making sure to put it on a heat resistant mat. Jihoon’s arms remain around you as he shuffles along with you every step of the way. With a huff, he finally lets you go as he sits back on the couch, but he does wait for you with open arms.

“Do you want me to feed you, too?” you laugh as you settle in next to him. He’s a little clingy, but it’s rare to see him so dependent on anyone else. In these small moments, you indulge him and genuinely do wish you could do everything for him so that he doesn’t have to think, or overthink, about it.

“No! I can eat by myself,” he responds, flustered. He grabs the chopsticks and takes mouthfuls of ramen. You let him fill up a bit first and swoop in for your share when he’s had his fill. The ramen disappears, and so do all of the treats while the anime plays comfortingly in the background. Jihoon is snuggled up with his head leaning against you, and you notice his eyes drooping heavier and heavier.

Before he completely knocks out, you get his attention, “Hey,” you start softly, “want to start getting ready for bed?”

Jihoon slowly lifts his head and nods while rubbing his eyes. Sometimes he reminds you of a sweet little kitten with the way he pouts with his pink lips. You kiss him before standing up and bringing him to stand with you. He grabs both of the fluffy companions from the couch, then he follows you like a little duck to the bedroom. You both breeze through your nightly routine. Jihoon is in bed with his arms out, again, waiting for you to join him.

“Wait here, I’m going to clean up the living room a little bit,” you say and turn for the door.

He pouts, “But I want you here.”

“I know, and I will be. Just let me take care of the dishes really fast.”

“I’ll help.” He begins to move the blanket covering him, disrupting the position of his new friend, the cat plushie.

“No, stay there. I got it. Just wait a bit, okay?” You smile at him reassuringly. He huffs and finally relents. You take care of the small mess left behind and muse on the way Jihoon has been acting. His clinginess getting the best of him was a sign. He was much more bothered than you originally thought. It is very cute and refreshing to see him get all needy. It reminds you that he needs you just like how you need him. He doesn’t say it all that often, but when you can feel it, feel that he needs you, it just solidifies your feelings for him even more.

But there is still something else. Something he’s not asking for, distracting himself with hugs and kisses so he’ll feel better without confronting what’s really going on. You hope it isn’t something he’s had to endure for a long time. He’s prone to do that, to endure alone and not let anyone help him. He thinks he can handle it himself without bothering anyone. He doesn’t understand that it’s not a bother. You resolve to talk about it with him no matter what. No matter how cute and sweet he’ll act when you get back to him.

With everything cleaned and your mind made up, you enter the bedroom again and are met with those same open arms. You settle into your spot, getting all comfortable. You turn in on Jihoon, and he rotates without hesitation until his back is against your chest. You enjoy the smell of his shampoo and lay a soft kiss to the back of his head. You wrap your arms around him tight and he holds on to them for dear life. It almost makes you feel bad that you have to make him a little uncomfortable, but it will help him sleep at night. You just lay there, breathing in sync, then you take a deep breath which disrupts the rhythm you have going with Jihoon.

“Hey,” you ease into the difficult conversation, “I know today was hard for you. I was just wondering… what happened?”

Jihoon buries his face in his pillow, “I don’t want to think about it.”

“I know, I know.” You stroke his hand, hoping to bring some comfort to his stressed out mind. “Talking about it will help you get through it, though. Can’t avoid it forever. It’ll come back to bite you.” You emphasize your words by pinching his arm in a playful attack. It lightens the mood a little and provokes a giggle to rise out of Jihoon.

“It’s just…” Jihoon begins cautiously, “my job can be stressful. It’s already hard enough to meet everyone else’s standards. When I can’t even meet my own, I feel… useless.”

You rub gentle circles on Jihoon’s arms and hands as he talks. You listen and understand how he’s feeling. He’s always been a type-A perfectionist since you’ve known him. It’s kind of stupid, but sometimes you let yourself think that his talent means that nothing is hard for him; he just does so well all the time and then acts as if it’s not a big deal. Of course, it sometimes is a big deal. He always burns so hot and bright for a long time, but even stars burn out eventually. This is the burnout; an increasingly frustrating time that leads to being so overwhelmed he cries alone in the Universe Factory. It’s a good thing that he’s not alone right now, though.

“You’re not useless; you just need some help. I know you’ll figure it out because you are a musical genius,” you respond. Your breath tickles his ear as you speak.

“You know I hate that word. ‘Genius’. A genius should be able to do it without help.” His voice starts cracking, and your heart breaks a little hearing it.

“No, no. It’s not easy being so smart. You’re the one that has to make the smart decisions. Being stupid is easy because the easy decision is to give up. It’s hard to keep going. Once you figure it out, that is what makes you a genius. I know you are smart enough to keep going and to figure it out. You can start by making the smart decision to reach out for some help on this.” You feel Jihoon relax in your arms, tension melting away from his shoulders. Your words reached him.

“I’ve never thought of it like that.” His voice is even again. You can’t see the look on his face, but you can tell he’s having a revelation. “I think I’m whelmed, now. Thank you,” he says simply. He moves to reveal his face. The tears that were once welling in his heart have disappeared. They don’t get to fall tonight.

“I’m glad,” you tilt his face toward you and capture his lips in a kiss. You settle once again into the spoon, somehow more comfortable than before. Jihoon falls asleep with a blissful slight smile on his face.

[moderninfatuation]

I am totally interested in seeing how you write Leon Kennedy and Luis Serra (my two favorite male characters of the RE universe), but I don't think I can provide any interesting prompts. The most I can think of, right now, is either of those characters and how they would survive the apocalypse with the reader. But, that's a bit vague. Uhm, is Leon Kennedy meeting up with a scientist reader who's dedicated to finding a cure an interesting prompt? (Probably not, huh?) Or Luis Serra surviving with a reader who's holding him captive for some reason (like a reader that gives Ada wong vibes?)?

note: hello :) I do find your prompts interesting, but now I need to make sure I do your favorites justice >< let me know what you think! I definitely think I could describe the actual interaction between you and the characters more, but it always takes me so long to get to, so i might make just have to make a second part

════════════════════════════════════

Scientist!Reader with Leon and Agent!Reader with Luis

characters: Leon S. Kennedy and Luis Sera, seperate

tags: sfw, agent!reader, scientist!reader, gn!reader, kidnapping, references to drugging

════════════════════════════════════

════════════════════════════════════

════════════════════════════════════

Leon & Scientist!Reader

Finding a cure for anything within current times is hard, of course. If anyone is intelligent enough to realize that, it’s probably you. Once a junior scientist held in high esteem by one of the bigger pharmaceutical companies in the area, you’re now forced to dig through the rubble of what was once lined up office spaces and laboratories, the logo of the company you worked for looming over you from what is left of the buildings as if it were threatening to crash down on you one day. That doesn’t stop you from trying, however, much to the dismay of most of the people who used to be your higher ups. You feel like there is constantly someone on your back, just waiting for you to be careless so they can strike down your attempts to help - that is all you wanted to do, but it seems as if right now, helping earns you more enemies than it does allies.

Leon is among the very few individuals you trust enough to tag along. He found you, crawling through what was once a cooling room, the glass of what used to be syringes and test tubes crackling below your weight as you scour for anything that could be of use later. The place was positively trashed as the scene was fled just a few months ago during the initial outbreak, but you decided to come back anyway, always on the lookout for anything that moves and anything that breathes. You nearly passed out from the shock when suddenly, Leon stood behind you, telling you to raise your hands while you could only hear his heavy boots on the tiled floor and the click of his safety catch. It made the hairs on your nape stand.

It used to be a little hard to get a proper read on Leon. He was quiet at first, too busy keeping an eye on your surroundings as well as you while he was escorting you out of the building. What if you were infected after all? What if it is just an elaborate trap to get him out of the picture? There was always a shadow of suspicion following him around. However, you get it. They’re out to get you once you’ve seen too much, and you and Leon perfectly fit the picture. It gets easier to spend time around each other once the both of you let the realization sink in.

Ever since, you’re a duo like no other. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a grown ass man, you’d say he’s attached to your hip; like a gun ready to be pulled when you’re in a tight spot. That is most he does when he follows you, actually: showing off his combat skills when it gets dicey. You’re thankful, of course, but you also managed to do it just fine on your own… or at least, that’s what you’d like to say. Truth is, you almost got your head crushed one or two times in the past because you were too focused on a gleam coming from a crack too tiny to put your arm in than on the dangerously tipped storage cabinet barely supported by said crack. Leon is just the guy for the job: holding up furniture, fighting off the infected, hell, ever since he’s warmed up to you, he even likes to joke around, hoping to get a laugh from you despite the differences in humor.

Leon can be stern with you, too. It doesn’t feel right to call it scolding, but he will furrow his brows and tell you to be more careful at even the slightest injury. He also insists on bandaging you up if things get bloody, not letting you do it yourself. If you push and complain hard enough, all he’ll do is raise his eyebrows in surprise, hold up his hands defensively and take a few steps back to let you do your thing - and to partially to keep himself from raising his voice. He would usually follow it up with a little quip too, just to defuse the tension, but also to see your reaction. His smug expression betrays him right before he drops the dreaded “Right, you’re the doctor-” before you have to remind him for what feels like the hundredth time that you’re not a doctor, as if the lack of a doctorate still matters now.

While he doesn’t know much about “science-stuff”, as he calls it, Leon knows enough to join the conversation. He likes to join you at your desk, asking questions and pointing at your equipment in the dark of the night, only illuminated by the wiry desk lamp and occasionally his flashlight when he gets bored. There have been times he fell asleep right next to you, too, snoring softly with his head hanging low and his lips slightly parted. He smiles gently and congratulates you with friendly shoulder bumps and pats on your back whenever you’ve made a new breakthrough or discovery in your research. His support is the most valuable you could get right now, especially since he’s competent enough to go out and get more supplies for you without, well, dying along the way. You have found your own kind of normalcy as the city around you gets rebuilt over time, a cure closer than it seems thanks to your sleepless nights and Leon’s eagerness to help. 

════════════════════════════════════

Luis & Agent!Reader

You decided to take the harder path in life, it seems, but it was never really a decision, per se. You’re merely a product of your surroundings and circumstances… but it certainly was a decision when you took on your very first job to steal. It could just be a one time thing, right? A swipe of your hand when nobody seemed to look in exchange for cash that’s worth twice the amount of whatever you have to take. Your career took a dark turn once you realized that there is no coming back from the downward spiral that becomes clearer as your jobs go from theft to smuggling to assassination. So, the only solution is to keep going, to keep your head up high and to not look back. Let the paycheck distract you.

A new job you had the pleasure of coming across is significantly more risqué, but also rewarding like no other. Your enigmatic new ‘employer’, if you could even call it that, sends you out to kidnap someone in exchange for protection. Not a first, exactly, but something tells you this is much more serious than your previous jobs. Now here you are, brushing the dust from the abandoned factory building’s roof off of your shoulder as ex-Umbrella scientist Luis Sera sits in front of you, struggling against the bindings supposed to keep him still while the empty potato sack obscuring his vision muffles his grunts. Not his first kidnapping, judging by the way he doesn’t even try to call and scream for help.

Luis groans in confusion as his brain slowly recovers from the Rohypnol you used to make him pliant and easy to carry. His eyes get adjusted to the spotlight shining directly at him, and for a second, the both of you make eye contact. You step out of the way before the laptop you set up takes a picture of your newest (and only) captive, ready to send it to your boss. “Mierda…” is all you hear from Luis for a long time, slurred as he immediately looks around for any means of escape. Yes, this guy definitely has experience. But why him? Upon first look, he just looks like any other biologist you had to sneak past. Lab coat, eye rings, the stubble that comes once self care becomes luxury in the face of deadlines.

You’re quick to find out that Luis is talkative, effectively destroying one of the very few scientist stereotypes you were aware of. Some people talk just to calm their nerves, but if he does it for that reason, he’s very skilled at keeping up the facade of extroversion. Some attempts of “Care to tell me where we are?” followed by a quiet “Eh, not the talking type, I see…” before he goes silent again for… what, 5 minutes? You almost regret pulling the potato sack from his head. He even asks for a cigarette at some point, to which you scoff in reply.

Hours pass as you realize that you’re not here to scare him or to “get him out of the picture”, so to speak - you’re on a mission to hide him. You aren’t given more details by your boss, except that you should probably keep Luis tied up. You’re more open to conversation now that you know you’re stuck with him for… unspecified time. Once you give him some input on the current situation, leaning onto the shoddy table behind you to get comfortable, you see him relax visibly. “Ahh, so you can talk! Was getting afraid we didn’t speak the same language.” he teases, a smug expression decorating his face now. He seems like an entirely different person now. And the worst part? He sees right through you, despite your attempts to remain calm and quiet. “I’m starting to feel like I know more about this situation than you do…” The hint is all he needs to earn himself a glare over your shoulder as you hope for further instructions appearing on the screen in front of you.

Your hands are less than gentle after an hour of convincing that he won’t run off leads to you cutting open his bindings. “Thank you.” Is all he mumbles before standing up, idly wiping his thighs and stretching his legs. It isn’t exactly professional to deny the orders given to you, but he doesn’t seem like the type of guy to initiate fist fights. He runs circles in the small room, patting his jacket for a lighter and his pants for the cigarettes to match before lighting himself one, exhaling smoke into the cold air surrounding you. The evening continues like that. You can’t help but be… charmed by him and the way he hums to himself as well as by his useless attempts at conversation with you. He occasionally looks over your shoulder, nagging you with a “There’s a far more efficient way to use-” as he reaches out for your keyboard while you can only watch and rest. It’s not like he’s checking your messages or anything, right? Occasionally he wanders off too far, followed by the noise of metal on metal and the shuffling of feet as he explores the building, only to find his way back to you.

════════════════════════════════════

[northopalshore]

Experimental post: Lunar Return chart observations (complete!)

My lunar return chart is quite interesting this month, so I wanted to do a little run down on my blog. I wanted to try out an experimental post. Let's review together after this cycle ends! See how accurate I got it the first time around. [ It's been a month & I've now passed this LRC. The result of the observation will be added below the initial points]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

🍰 Leo rising (17° leo)

It's giving It girl lol! I'll be turning a lot of heads this month. Likely for the way that I dress or groom myself. Perhaps I'll be charming a lot of pants off (then put them back on because I'm in no position to be getting freaky rn)

[ Result; I received so many compliments this month, both online & offline. Most of them complimented my aesthetics & face. A lot of people were very sweet & kind to me as well. ]

🍰 Virgo 2nd House, lilith libra (12° pisces)

I'm going to be rather diligent with my money this month because of a splurge I did with my wallet the month prior... Haha.. natal Moon in 2nd house go brr

[Result; I.. definitely splurged lol. I spent most of my money buying things online. Usually, Lilith here (especially w the degree) means loans or debts & even scams. I got scammed out of one item that I bought but I got refunded because I had evidence. & I did loan some money to purchase stuff that I needed but I paid them back after.]

🍰 Libra 3rd House, Mercury (6° virgo), Eros (13° aries)

Looks like I'll be taking & writing quite a lot this month. I'll be a little bit rushed but still have to be careful. Also, teamwork is important here. Makes sense, with group work assignments & deadlines we have to catch.

[Result; definitely a lot of writing. A lot of last minute changes had to be done because of a miscommunication w a lecturer. I'll elaborate on this part later]

🍰 Juno (24° pisces) conjunct Sun (24° pisces)

Op— a potential romantic interest? Even if it is in the 3rd house (communication), I feel like it's rather spiritual or internal because of Libra & Pisces. Could also be someone admiring me from afar or online? Juno also trines Jupiter in the 11th house. Perhaps I'll just be yapping about my husband again online. Or he could be searching for me online? Hmm. Don't tell me my fs will find my blog, that doesn't make any sense to me ʕ⁠ ⁠º⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠ ⁠º⁠ʔ! Even if he does, he'll probably keep it a secret even from me since, he himself will be skeptical lol :p. Perhaps he found me by Googling himself (his chart placements). Although.. I don't know if my blog will show up yet since it's still relatively "new" so I bet it's still hard to find if you aren't an avid Tumblr user.

[Result; I can't say for sure on this part but I have dreamt about him twice albeit rather vaguely. I don't think it's anything important though. ]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

When compared to my natal chart, it's more like receiving more admirers or even rivals ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠•̥⁠`⁠ʔ. This month is self focused (leo rising & lrc saturn in the 1st house) My natal union conjuncts lrc Sun & Juno but because of the degree (24° pisces) & the 8th house influence, it's giving secret admirer. Perhaps I'll get a few new stalkers as well TT.

[Result; I definitely caught a few new eyes lol. Though, it's more of a casual interest than much else. Again, I can't tell for sure what type of attention I'm getting from them since it's being hidden from me (8th house & pisces) ]

🍰 Sun opposite moon in 9th house

There still could be fatigue that follows throughout the month. Perhaps what I want to do doesn't line up perfectly with how I want things to be executed. Either that or I could be having slight issues with my assignments. As in, it's not going to be as great or effortless as I hope it would be (Libra vs Aries).

[Result; fatigue was definitely there, however I didn't feel it hit as hard as the month prior. I could still somewhat function & be in the moment. I could just feel a burnout coming lol. ]

🍰 Scorpio 4th House,

I'll be a bit sentimental about my family. Perhaps there will be some disagreements between me and my mother, either that or I'll feel a closer bond to her. They're pretty far away from where I am right now, so it could just mean being quite attached to them energetically. I wonder if I'll experience some paranormal activity since pisces is in the 8th house here.

🍰 Venus (29° leo) in Scorpio

Yeah, the relationship with my family & close circle will likely deepen here. No fighting, just bonding. My friends & housemates could feel more comfortable around each other. We could be going out & doing a lot of fun activities together as a group. Especially with the 5th house being Sagittarius.

[Result; There was some miscommunication with my housemates but it's nothing big i.e didn't involve actual arguments or anything. It actually made us feel more comfortable with each other after opening up. Also, I've been invited to do a lot of activities w different groups. I went to the city central w my housemates, went hiking w church members & slept over for a game night w them as well. Overall, I was very socially active this month. ]

🍰 Capricorn 6th House, Pluto (29° leo)

I'll be very focused on my health & duties this month. My schedule is packed, but it doesn't look like I'll suffer from it. Actually, it looks like I'll be having a lot of fun with it. I've also been.. taking a lot of health supplements lately, is that related? Probably.

[Result; I got a little sick but it didn't really affect my work much. I took on a lot of new responsibilities. Being a part of a leadership role, & actually being a leader. I had to work w things I wasn't used to but still managed to organise well. ]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

🍰 Pluto trine uranus (26° taurus) in the 10th House

I was planning on doing something special for my blog. Let's call it a little upgrade. I just wanted to further integrate my personal style into my blog since it feels like an attachment to my identity. I'm working on a set mood my blog should give with every post. Since I have strong Scorpio & Pisces placements, I thought I'd have a dark, ethereal yet still romantic feel. Hoho? Seems like the 'rebrand' will be quite successful! Perhaps I'll be trying something new too. My housemates are quite active on TikTok so I'll probably be going on their lives here and there.

[ Result; I landed a position in a club/organisation I applied to, it just wasn't the one I applied for /went to interview for. It's a finance & business role, something I've never handled before in a more hands-on way. Still it's quite exciting. It requires me to think outside of the box i.e creatively]

🍰 POF (13° aries) in aquarius

Looks like I'll be quite fortunate with my work & studies, but also my online presence i.e blog. Does this mean I'll be some sort of trailblazer? With both Aries & Aquarius being standout placements perhaps I'll be the first at something. I just can't put my finger on it yet. Even if I'm in a rush, I'll still be able to do a decent job.

[ Result; I had to wrack my brain in a multitude of ways this month. Thinking of new & exciting ideas but also creating presentation slides (designing them from scratch all on my own). I'd say I did a pretty good job on all of the ones I designed for my team(s)]

🍰 Aquarius (17° leo) 7th House

I'll be working with a lot of different people this month. Makes sense with different groups in different classes.. with different assignments... TT. Looks like it'll run smoothly though. I'd like to thank them in advance for their cooperation!

[Result; I did work w a lot of different people. However, unconsciously I became the head of ideas for my groups i.w the one scripting & brainstorming the work structure for everyone.]

🍰 Fama (29° leo), Starr (22° capricorn) & Europa (26° taurus) in the 7th house

Ooh I guess I will be charming some pants off lmao. Okay Mid October - Mid November me, work. Perhaps a lot of people will invite me into their group or to hang out? Perhaps my involvement in these groups will be quite beneficial for my status? Or just getting more friends in general. Also, I'll likely gain attention for my work (posts) online as well. I could be working with people I adore for example. Or other blogs ? Sounds like fun!

When compared to my natal chart, all of these asteroids are in my 12th house so these collaborations may happen on social media (not physical).

[Result; I interacted with a lot of my mutuals (on Tumblr) this month (most of which I still can't believe are my mutuals because I love their post sm! It feels surreal lol). Also, a lot of the work I did for my group work were listed & shared online]

🍰 Saturn (13° aries) retrograde in Pisces 7th House

I could be reunited with old childhood friends, I feel like this is especially so since it's also aspecting Jupiter (21° Sagittarius) retrograde in the 11th House (Gemini). However, it's squaring Jupiter so even if we reconcile it's just for a brief moment since we'll be quite busy with other stuff.

[Result; Instead of old friends, I think this correlates to a certain ask I got about my FS ರ⁠_⁠ರ iykyk, though I did meet a lot of new acquaintances throughout the month. We won't be seeing each other often, but still keep in touch]

🍰 Saturn also trines groom in the 11th House

..the FS theory may still have legs to stand on. Although I'm not going to pay much mind to it yet.

[Result; again, not really sure. Though I think I did yap about my FS]

🍰 Neptune is aspecting a lot of my planets here,

so there could be this dreamy or idealistic influence with everything I do. Or, there could be a delay in my actions since mars is also in the 12th house. I might be taking the backseat in a lot of activities i.e not leading anything. I could also be doing some things alone. I could also be romanticising things often.

[Result; I think I was half awake for every activity this month lmao, mars in the 12th house manifested as me doing a lot of things alone i.e leading, planning, coming up w things. Though I don't feel like it was a burden. I know almost everyone here is still burned out & overwhelmed. So I made use of my brain as much as I could before it fully hit me too. ]

🍰 Priapus (18° virgo) 8th House conjunct Chiron (21° sagittarius) in the 9th House

Yeah, assignments will be quite tiring TT. Very tiring actually. It could also mean there's going to be a rather uncomfortable interaction within my course mates. Or with professors? They could shame me for my work or I might have to re-do something TT. I'm not looking forward to this. Someone I work with might have ill intentions towards me too.

When compared to my natal chart, my lunar return Priapus & Chiron are in my 2nd house so that bad energy could come from jealousy from my course mates for how I dress or what I have on me. They might think I look 'extra' TT.

[Result; Hah .. I was right. Though, rather than shamed I was cut off by an international lecturer. I did the planning & task division for my group members & we were supposed to update him on our progress but before I could even finish the first sentence — he cut me off & changed the whole direction of our work. Then he kept adding new last minute tasks that differ far from what he first issued. Omg. This was not fun. I was right but at what cost? ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ]

🍰 Gemini 11th House, Jupiter (21° Sagittarius) retrograde

I'll be gaining more friends, being more social & extroverted in general. Most of the new connections I'll be making are with people from a different state or even online. Perhaps it's in retrograde since I moved here about a month ago now so it's not completely "new" to me. But still, I'll be interacting with people from different states & even countries. I forgot, but one of my classes is involved in an online outbound program with students from another country. So, that could be it? Online friends, delayed, studies. We aren't meeting them physically although we will be sharing some lectures together with them. As you can tell, I'll be studying a lot TT. However it also means I'll be posting more on my blog (I think that's already started, compared to last month).

[Result; so the "outbound" program was canceled. A lot of group work had to be postponed, there were just a lot of things coming at once. I've also made a lot of drafts this month, though most of them are either half way done or ⅓.

It just requires more time & effort from my half since I need to shift a lot of my focus on my studies & actual life outside of the blog. Still, I'm very happy w my ideas & what I wrote. I've also gotten the most asks & messages this month but a lot of the questions required too much of my time (the dm questions mostly).

Still, I believe I have answered to the best to my ability i.e what I can manage right now. I'm really sorry, but most of the time I'm not going to be able to get to those really long & complex asks especially when it's from dms since it involves a lot of back & forth one on one teaching.

It would be great if they weren't novices but most of those asking me are beginners. So I usually find myself explaining from A to Z. I do what I can, but I just don't have that much time on my hands.

Also, please refrain from dming me about your questions. I'm sorry if it sounds harsh, but I'm not in the position to help you understand the whole meaning of your chart. I don't have the time to do paid readings at the moment, let alone guide you step by step because it takes a lot of time. I want to share what I know but please don't bombard me with so much to digest at once.

If you're truly curious about something, try it out first. Experiment with it. Refer to different sites & references. That is what learning is. That's also how I learned what I know today. If you find that it differs from what you're experiencing, then ask me THROUGH THE ASKS BOX ONLY since this will be my priority i.e what I'll be answering first. ]

🍰 Groom (8°scorpio) in Cancer 11th House

I could be feeling pretty attached to my FS. Whether energetically or emotionally. Perhaps I'll be writing about more of his personal details. Which is .. very likely. I don't want to get emotional over him anymore TT, high vibrations. High vibrations.

[Result; hah. Iykyk.]

Thus ends this experiment.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

I know it seems like I'm talking about myself a lot lol, but it's my way of deciphering how certain things work especially when it comes to aspects I don't understand. Thus why I call this an "experimental" post. What's a better way to learn than from first hand experience? ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔ

Thanks for reading ♡

@northopalshore

@northopalshore experimental lrc 2024.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Elaborating on robot!König. He was a man, once, he believes - or that’s what his fuzzy memories tell him. He’s unsure, but he knows that this is his reality now. And he’s built to love it, to love the attention he gets When he walks onto the battlefield, and the praise from his superiors from time to time when he successfully destroys an enemy base with just a flick of the hand. His wrist opens, splitting his forearm and Hand apart, revealing a hole - and a second later, a rocket heads straight for his targets.

Within the destroyed enemy base, someone manages to escape. A frail little being, könig notes, when he scans her from afar. He chuckles to himself, seeing her run around like a lost fly hitting a window over and over again, because one second she’s running this way and the other she’s running that way. She has nowhere left to go.

He decides to kill her. He’s her enemy, and his sensors are going crazy noting that the target is trying to run away. But it all soon quiets, as he hears a voice through the earpiece built into his head. “You noted a target escaping, are they strong?” König stands on the battlefield, unharmed, talking to his superiors as if nothing particular is going on. “Ach, nein, very… weak. Not suited for war. She will to die by exhausting herself, running in circles.” He laughs loudly, making heads turn towards the 208 cm tall crazy metal-man.

“Then get her for questioning.”

“Jawohl.”

He simply walks over to her, not rushing one bit. He loves the terrified look on her face when she turns around and sees him. She doesn’t even try to run away. “Stupid girl, not even trying to escape me?” You don’t answer and he grins, “A smart decision. Jetzt komm schon, hopp hopp!”

He flings her over his shoulder like it’s nothing. His mouth curls slightly upwards at the “oof!” Sound she lets out. He grabs her steadily by the back of her knees and one large hand over her butt. On his walk back to the helicopter, he experimentally squeezes a few times and decides he likes the feeling of it. He sits her down in his lap, ass on one thigh, and he bounces the other every now and then. He wants to stare at her, but he doesn’t want to scare his new little prey off.

Back on base, they keep you for questioning. You know better than to give information away, but you suppose it’s either that or you’ll leave this place in pieces - as they heartily promised to send könig to blast you away into the night sky like a firework.

When they don’t let you go, you’re still confused, but just as you’re about to speak up to the leaving soldiers, two men walk in. You recognise one as König the war machine, and the other must be in a higher position with the way he holds himself. König meets your eyes and grins toothily, not that you could see it because of the mask. But you shudder at the bright blue shining on you.

“She’s all yours, König” the older man pats his back, “we don’t have any use for her, and I could see the way you looked at her. I guess even those like you happen to to want to keep a war trophy, yeah?”

“Ja… jawohl” he keeps staring at you, eyes scanning over your body. Quite literally. The older man nods and tells him that he can take you home, “have a good time, you’ve deserved it.”

He props you up on his shoulder again and leaves to his apartment, built right beside the base to make it easy for him to come and go as commanded. He slaps your ass, and grabs a cheek through your pants, smiling and your soft gasp.

“I’ll show you a good time, trophy girl.”

(Proceeds to show you the 30+ modes he has on his vibrating dick)

WHO ARE YOU?!? Can I marry you…? 👉👈

I mean do I follow you here anon? And if not then wtf?! Give me your blog now if you’re pushing out stuff like this! Gimme! I beg of you!

(I had to collaborate to the awesome bleakness of this: here, have this as a ty gift!)

She literally prayed that some other veteran would have taken her as a “trophy”, just anyone except this machine.

It claims it was once a man, but seems to have forgotten what it is to be human, walks in and out of his apartment that’s really just an old container, disturbs your only moments of peace in the “bathroom” where you’re trying to wash yourself clean, under a bucket shower with a small bar of soap he found for you somewhere.

Doesn’t respect your privacy at all actually, stares at your breasts when you get up and get dressed, scans your body up and down when you hesitantly crawl to him at night. He has a body warmth feature which he uses to lure you in and to his arms because the metal casket you live in with this war machine is horribly cold, night and day. Of course you seek warmth from the giant radiator so that you wouldn't freeze to death.

Due to the many upgrades – or that’s what he calls them – made to his body, he has inhuman stamina. Gets his pleasure out of edging and studying your body, clearly trying to remember what human women were like... How they writhe, what makes them quiver and cum, what forces them to moan.

He wants to know how many orgasms can be pulled out of your weak body, how many times can you take his dick that’s a bit too hard and unforgiving compared to the smoother human cocks, he's especially curious whenever you start to beg for him not to stop.

You feel like you’re more like a guinea pig to him when he returns to probe and experiment on you at night. Asks why you look sad when you curl into a fetal position after the three peaks he just tortured out of you. When you explain to him that you’d like some skin-to-skin contact and cuddling after sex, the automated breathing behind you stops for a moment.

“Ah... Post-coital procedures... Ja, I remember, ganz sicher.”

He settles down next to you and draws you into an embrace, a bit too cold and rough. There’s no heartbeat, but he breathes steadily behind your back, the steady thrum of his inhales and exhales supposed to make you relax. He could probably turn his body heat system up if you asked, but you’re too shaken to even speak.

“You feel good now...?” He asks as if it’s in his protocol to do that these days. That it’s his job to make you feel nice and he must not fail…

“Yes, much better,” you lie as you spend another night with this war-torn but highly functioning cyborg, trying to cuddle and comfort you like a human man.

[ash-says]

hiii ! i love your post about being audacious 🩷 do you have any tips about improving people skills/ being more charismatic? thank youuuu 🤭

Hello girlll!!! Thanks for sharing your thoughts on the audacious post. It's one of my fav tbh I literally came up with it while I was cooking. So coming to your question let me see how I can help you out tbh I share my opinions and what has worked for me so far. So practice discernment and take everything with a pinch of salt✨✨

Tips to improve People Skills/ Being more Charismatic:

1) Find your USP:

USP means Unique Selling Proposition. What makes you unique and I mean it in a personality sense more here. You can extend it to your looks but start from a personality trait cause it will be forever and very personal to you. Even if someone copies it, it will always be a cheap one.

I will elaborate on this with an example:

One of my ex colleagues was really good at socializing. He was 27 years old but I kid you not he looked like a 20 year old or even younger at times. He had a boyish charm and he used it to his full advantage. He literally had a child's energy and would jump here and there in the office, act like a literal child when not working. He had a refreshing energy to him the type that reminds you of your childhood days. Heck after a meeting with the CEO he used to watch cartoons to destress and made us watch it too so we could also relax but when it came to work he was smart, efficient and knew how to use his easy going socializing energy to generate sales. So you get my point right?? Find what attracts people to you or what value you can offer to them.

2) Knowledge. Education.

I personally swear by this. Be as disgustingly educated as possible. Know about various topics at least the basics of current trends or what's hot and some off topics. This adds dimension to your personality and helps you to hold a conversation with anyone. Plus you never run out of topics to speak on.

3) Confidence. No elaboration needed.

4)Sense of humour.

Why bore people to death by reciting the merciless nature of Julius Caesar when you could present it as a joke when something relatable comes up??? People are more likely to find you charismatic if you can make them laugh.

5) Master the art of Storytelling

This!!! Right here is a cheat code I tell you. You don't have much knowledge to speak on for now? Fine as you gradually work on it hold conversations by sharing bits of your life in a colorful way. Engage people with your life stories. Make them fun and a little dramatic. I am not advising you to lie. There's always a way you can convey something in an entertaining manner. Master it. I personally use it a lot and it's fun to connect with people cause they too loosen up and share their stories and then you link it up with your sense of humour by adding a nice comment or comeback.

Warning : Never share details that are very personal to you. Only share funny incidents and situations that won't bring you in trouble if gossiped about. Practice with discernment.

6) Learn positive body language and develop empathy. Empathy truly helps you in connecting with people on a deeper level and creating a bond based on trust and emotions.

7) Smile. Don't grin like a fool but when you see someone you know make a note to address them. Wish them good morning ,etc . Pass a genuine smile towards them. Be polite.

8) Be genuinely interested in other people but not in a nosy way instead in a healthy way. Help them out if you can. A good deed never goes to waste.

9) Have a positive outlook on everything. No one wants a pessimistic person around them. Even on days you can't. You know the mantra ," Fake it till you make it".

10) Support people. Be kind. Soft spoken. Know your place. Don't downplay yourself in front of people who are clearly not at your level and don't overestimate yourself in front of people who are professionals in those fields. Get a grip on how to act with whom. You won't know it until and unless you won't do it. Have a strong sense of self, be opinionated, confident and be witty. It's fun that way. Push your limits and don't be afraid to network with new people and talk to strangers. Who knows what will happen??

Possibilities are endless.

I hope this helps you out✨✨

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to part five

Part six

Steve sits in the Beemer squeezing the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. He can't make himself let go.

He also can't seem to make himself leave.

His mate is in there. His mate who is carrying their pup. Steve's pup.

He can't leave.

It's a good ten minutes of Steve feeling like the world is collapsing in on him before the door swings open, and Wayne comes out, holding two beers. He opens the door and climbs in, sitting in the passenger seat, handing a beer to Steve, who takes it reflexively. He's pretty sure he doesn't actually want it. But Wayne chinks the necks of the bottles together in toast and says, "congratulations."

Steve starts laughing, it's a bit hysterical and it takes a few minutes before he can make himself stop. He does drink the beer.

"He told you?"

Wayne chuckles, "nah, of course he didn't. Clocked the positive test just sitting in the trash, but that boy hasn't thought more than thirty seconds ahead even one time in his life."

They sit in comfortable silence for a while before Steve admits, "I'm so angry with him."

"Think you've a right to that."

"I'm not leaving him."

"Didn't think you would."

They sit together, ten more minutes of silence between them before Steve admits, "I feel like he's stolen it from me...not the pup," Steve elaborates as Wayne raises an eyebrow at him, "the chance to do this properly. The chance to court him, mate him. Have a nice nest ready, a home together...and then pups. I still want it he's just...taken away my chance to do it all properly, I guess."

Wayne hums agreeably.

Steve sighs, "I should go in."

"Reckon." Wayne agrees stoically.

Steve had bought Eddie a spinning wool thing with a handle as a courting gift. Eddie had been so happy with it, something he wanted to organise all his balls of wool into...more square balls. Steve didn't understand it, but Eddie had been so happy he'd spent an hour playing with it and organising his small yarn collection while Steve watched, puffed up and proud his Omega was happy.

Eddie had smelled so much better since his heat, so much more like home and mate...and Steve just figured it was because Eddie was doing better.

Now he knows the real reason he's scenting so appealing; the pup.

Eddie hides deeper in his nest. Whatever that thing was that he lost when his Omega went to ground, well, it's been back since his heat. It's been back ten fold. Eddie had never nested in his life, now? Now if Hawkins held some sort of nesting championships, Eddie would have won it three times this week.

He knew, knew for certain before he bothered to piss on a stick that he'd caught. He knew it was early to show, but his usually almost concave stomach was...not that anymore. He was eating more, some instinct driving him. He was tidying the trailer; sorting things he'd never bothered or cared about before.

So he'd known. Known before those pink lines had appeared on the test.

And Steve. Steve who is courting the hell out of him. Steve who nuzzles him and scents him and brings him home made cookies and pasta and meatballs. Steve who buys him things and holds him close and, even though they haven't done anything more than kiss a little since Eddie's heat, is happy to run gentle hands across Eddie when they nap.

Steve who had innocently investigated that oh so subtle curve to Eddie's stomach. Steve who didn't even question that there was something there until he caught what must have been a horrified, guilty look on Eddie's face. Eddie who had stammered out an apology, like an idiot.

He should have just told him.

He should have come clean, right at the beginning. But Eddie was harbouring a guilty fantasy where he gets to keep his pup and Steve, and he wasn't quite ready to loose it just yet.

He hears the trailer door from where he's buried in his nest. He hears his bedroom door and opens his mouth to tell Wayne to go away, but it's Steve who speaks, "we will be talking about this in the morning."

And then the mattress dips, the blankets shift, and Eddie is pulled into Steve's arms, Steve's hand resting delicately over Eddie's belly button.

[yourdakg]

Donation Found!

Remember Ryder? The SoCal pretty boy who was depressed that his life was a vapid, superficial, and party focused existence? He contacted Turnaround Technologies to ask, nay plead for a new body and a new life. See his Donation Request Form.

If only it were that simple. Turnaround Technologies utilizes some of the most advanced science on the market. When a body is fully adjusted, it's a slow and sometimes torturous process! If it was as simple as switching brains, that would be one thing. But the subjects have to physically transform into one another, and then brainwaves are overwritten. Chemistry, genetics, biology, and psychology are all involved in this elaborate process.

So Ryder had to come up with the $325,000 fee. Luckily, he had money saved and he was able to sell off the red Mustang convertible and his yellow Yamaha Sport Bike to meet the target. The final straw was giving up the deed to his WeHo apartment. Don't tell him, but his donor bought the items! Isn't that funny? He covered the rest with personal loans! Well, a little bit of debt won't hurt.

Let's remind you of where Ryder is starting his journey:

And now let's the see information plate for his donor. I think he'll be very pleased! After this, he'll never have to worry about being surrounded by vapid, beautiful people and fending off pesky pool party invites! Yes, this is the ideal swap partner for Ryder.

Meet Dr. Pervus Fondler. And wouldn't you know it? Dr. Fondler was a doctor in Ryder's hometown! They actually know each other. The good doctor cares very deeply for Ryder and was pained when he heard about his current circumstances. He decided that his job as a physician meant he had to step up and give the ultimate sacrifice! You know what they say: First Do No Harm.

Donor Statement: While I am nervous about the process, I am confident that I will give Ryder a new future, one where he won't have to worry about all that vanity and his gym obsession. True freedom for the boy!

Thank you, doctor, for going the extra mile for your patients. Turnaround Technologies will prepare the Exchange Chambers. Both subjects will be stripped down and cleansed before being placed in metallic, moisture wicking bikinis while our technicians prepare for the process:

Now that Ryder is dressed and the drugs are injected into his system, it's time to introduce him to his generous benefactor. I hope he has a positive reaction to the kind of man he will become. Let's check in!

Patient Statement: No! Holy shit! No, not Pervus the Perv! You can't put me in that. Don't force me into that body! I'd be going from a perfect ten to a zero. Please! No... LET GO. Please, oh my God. No, I thought it would be another buff guy like me. I change my mind, I changed my mi--**UMPH HRRMPH**

It's not clear why Ryder objected so strongly to his partner. Maybe it was the shock of knowing who the doctor was from earlier in his life. At any rate, he paid the fee and signed the paperwork so there is, quite literally, no going back. Swaps of this nature are once in a lifetime and, of course, quite permanent.

Subject had to be forcibly gagged and sedated.

Add another $125,000 for the service. Ryder sure is going to pay a lot of money for his new life!

When he came to in the chamber, Ryder was pounding on the door. I think he was crying. His oversize genitalia were mashed against the glass in his silver pouch. It was quite the sight. When the whirr of the machine began and the paralyzing blue light hit, his eyes went crossed. He fell backwards and pumped his hips in the air. Well, the erection is to be expected. I've heard the process somewhat erotic, though painful.

It takes a couple days and the exchange unstable during that time, but I am happy to report the following:

Donor Report: I feel good. Very good. I'm probably going to move to SoCal, sort of take over Ryder's apartment. I'll probably start using his name now too. Don't wanna confuse people. I don't even have my old, perverted urges. I hope he's comfortable with the mental traits foisted on him. Oh... he wants to take picture of me? Ha, okay. I'll flex for $100. Recipient Report: What do you mean I can't go back *whimper* why do I feel so strange. I'm already out of breath. Give it back! What do you mean a name change is included in the package *sob* MY NAME IS PERVUS NOW??!?! Oh. I have to take his medical practice in my shithole hometown? Oh God! I just... oh goodness, seeing it from this angle it's such a fine body. So tight and firm! At least flex for me, my boy? A little. So I can snap a few pics and... use them later. Eehehe. Oh God, what have I become?