#only four days left in germany! :)

[midnights-wish]

i'm so excited!!!

[drdemonprince]

It’s true that America has one of the lowest voter turnout rates in the industrialized world, with only 62% of eligible adults turning up to the polls on a good year, and about 50% on a typical one. But if we really dive into the social science data, we can see that non-voters aren’t a bunch of nihilistic commie layabouts who’d prefer to die in a bridge collapse or of an untreated listeria infection than vote for someone who isn’t Vladimir Lenin. No, if we really study it carefully, we can see that the American electoral system has a series of unique features that easily account for why we find voting more cumbersome, confusing, and unrewarding than almost any other voters in the world.

Let’s take a look at the many reasons why Americans don’t vote:

1. We Have the Most Frequent Elections of Any Country

Most other democratic countries only hold major elections once every four or five years, with the occasional local election in between. This is in sharp contrast with the U.S., where we have some smattering of primaries, regional elections, state elections, ballot measures, midterm elections, and national elections basically every single year, often multiple times per year. We have elections more frequently than any other nation in the world — but just as swallowing mountains of vitamin C tablets doesn’t guarantee better health, voting more and harder hasn’t given us more democracy.

2. We Don’t Make Election Day a Holiday

The United States also does far less than most other democracies to facilitate its voters getting to the polls. In 22 countries, voting is legally mandated, and turnout is consequently very high; most countries instead make election day a national holiday, or hold elections on weekends. The United States, in contrast, typically holds elections on weekdays, during work hours, with minimal legal protections for employees whose only option to vote is on the clock.

3. We Make Registration as Hard as Possible

From Denmark, to Sweden, to Iceland, Belgium, and Iraq, all eligible voters in most democracies are automatically registered to vote upon reaching legal adulthood. Voting is typically regarded as a rite of passage one takes part in alongside their classmates and neighbors, made part of the natural flow of the country’s bureaucratic processes.

In the United States, in contrast, voter registration is a process that the individual must seek out — or more recently, be goaded into by their doctor. Here voting is not a communal event, it’s a personal choice, and failing to make the correct choice at the correct time can be penalized. In most other countries, there are no restrictions on when a voter can register, but in much of the United States, registering too early can mean you get stricken from the voter rolls by the time the election rolls around, and registering too late means you’re barred from voting at all.

4. We Make Voters Re-Register Far Too Often

In countries like Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands, voter registration updates automatically when a person moves. In the United State, any time a person changes addresses they must go out of their way to register to vote all over again. This policy disadvantages poorer and younger voters, who move frequently because of job and schooling changes, or landlords who have decided to farm black mold colonies in their kitchens.

Even if a voter does not change their address, in the United States it’s quite common for their registrations to be removed anyway— due to name changes, marriages, data breaches, or simply because the voter rolls from the previous election year have been purged to “prevent fraud” (read: eliminate Black, brown, poor, and left-leaning members from the electorate).

5. We Limit Access to Polling Places & Mail-in Ballots

In many countries, voters can show up to any number of polling places on election day, and showing identification is not always necessary. Here in the United States, the ability to vote is typically restricted to a single polling place. Voter ID laws have been used since before the Jim Crow era to make political participation more difficult for Black, brown, and impoverished voters, as well as for those for whom English is not their first language. Early and absentee voting options are also pretty firmly restricted. About a quarter of democracies worldwide rely on mail-in ballots to make voting more accessible for everyone; here, a mail-in ballot must be requested in advance.

All of these structural barriers help explain why just over 50% of non-voters in the United States are people of color, and a majority of non-voters have been repeatedly found to be impoverished and otherwise marginalized. But these populations don’t only feel excluded from the political process on a practical level: they also report feeling completely unrepresented by the available political options.

6. We Have the Longest, Most Expensive Campaign Seasons

Americans have some of the longest campaign seasons in the world, with Presidential elections lasting about 565 days on average. For reference, the UK’s campaign season is 139 days, Mexico’s is 147, and Canada’s is just 50. We also do not have publicly funded campaigns: our politicians rely upon donors almost entirely.

Because our elections are so frequent and our campaigns are so long and expensive, many American elected officials are in a nearly constant state of fundraising and campaigning. When you take into account the time devoted to organizing rallies, meeting with donors, courting lobbyists, knocking on doors, recording advertisements, and traveling the campaign trail, most federally elected politicians spend more time trying to win their seat than actually doing their jobs.

Imagine how much work you’d get done if you had to interview for your job every day. And now imagine that the person actually paying your wage didn’t want you to do that job at all:

7. Our Elected Officials Do Very Little

Elected officials who spend the majority of their hours campaigning and courting donors don’t have much time to get work done. Nor do they have much incentive to — in practice, their role is to represent the large corporations, weapons manufacturers, Silicon Valley start-ups, and investors who pay their bills, and serve as a stopgap when the public’s demands run afoul of those groups’ interests.

Perhaps that is why, as campaign seasons have gotten longer and more expensive and income inequality has grown more stark, our elected officials have become lean-out quiet quitters of historic proportions. The 118th Congress has so far been the least productive session on record, with only 82 laws having been passed in last two years out of the over 11,000 brought to the floor.

The Biden Administration has moved at a similarly glacial pace; aside from leaping for the phone when Israel calls requesting checking account transfers every two or three weeks, the executive-in-chief has done little but fumble at student loan relief and abortion protections, and bandied about banning TikTok.

The average age of American elected officials has been on a steady rise for some time now, with the obvious senility of figures like Biden, Mitch McConnell, and the late Diane Feinstein serving as the most obvious markers of the government’s stagnancy. Carting around a confused, ailing elderly person’s body around the halls of power like a decommissioned animatronic requires a depth of indifference to human suffering that few of us outside Washington can fathom. But more than that, it reflects a desperation for both parties to cling to what sources of influence and wealth they have. These aged figures are/were reliable simps for Blackstone, General Dynamics, Disney, and AIPAC, and their loyalty is worth far more than their cognitive capacity, or legislative productivity. Their job, in a very real sense, is to not do their job, and a beating-heart cadaver can do that just fine.

You can read the rest of the list for free (or have it narrated to you on the Substack app) at drdevonprice.substack.com!

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA! [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 4462

summary: y/n discovers not only that she went viral on youtube on her birthday and that she's offered a reunion with capital records, but also has to face a possible reunion with seb after having no contact with him for four, almost five, years

warnings: settled on april 2018. curse words, angst, mention to y/n being friends with a certain guy who's a singer and used to be a dyed blond (we'll get to know how they met and also hope you like this cameo!). y/n refusing to have any news of seb. translated german (almost every one calls emily mäuschen, which means little mouse).

taglist: [@saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife ]

a/n: i had to post this, especially today heheh. hope you like this part as much as you seemed to like the others! i'll be waiting for your comments and anons (honestly, daily serotonin), and also remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2018

April 27th Heppenheim, Germany

If someone had told you a few years ago that your thirtieth birthday would be like any other day, you wouldn't have believed them.

As every morning, you had woken up, although today it wasn’t the light entering through the window that woke you. The voices of Emily and your parents singing "Happy Birthday" in unison were the reason for your abrupt awakening. You forced yourself to hold back tears when you saw your daughter approaching you, with the help of your mother, with a cake in her little hands. Your father was taking the utmost care to ensure the lit candle didn’t go out before you blew it out, and you noticed their pitiful glances falling on you.

You understood. Since you became a mother, you knew what it was like to suffer for a child.

“Happy birthday, Mama!”

After sitting up in bed, you took your daughter in your arms and sat her between your legs. You quickly wiped away the tears and, after clapping a few more times with her, you suggested you both to blow out the yellow candle, your favorite color, together.

Your only wish for that year, as it had been for the previous four, was to finally be able to talk to Seb and explain the real reason why you left in Barcelona almost 5 years ago.

With that thought firmly in your mind, you said goodbye to your parents, who headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You quickly got out of bed, took the clothes you had chosen the night before for Emily and yourself, and dressed her while you told her the sugar-coated version of how you met her father and how happy you were, as you always did almost every time to her since she loved that story. Shortly after you were already dressed, and both of you were heading to the kitchen, where two bowls of cereal were already set on the counter.

“Mommy, what did you wish for?”

The little one's question took you by surprise. If there was something that characterized her and made you think of her father, it was her great curiosity. Not to mention her clearly defined blonde curls and her entire face.

Denying that she was Sebastian's daughter was impossible, and that's how Heike found out she was a grandmother.

“It’s a secret, mäuschen,” you replied, starting to cough immediately, trying not to choke on the spoonful of cereal you had already put in your mouth. “I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

“But is it something nice?” she insisted.

“Well, I suppose…”

You noticed that your mother was watching you with concern while she dried the freshly washed dishes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take Emily to Hanna’s house?” she asked, interrupting your daughter's incessant questions. “I know you have to clean the bar thoroughly and it takes you quite some time.”

“No, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I want to take a walk with Emily and buy something for Heike and Norbert. Emily wants to see them today,” you explained.

“Norbert told me the other day that we could go feed the baby ducks at the lake!”

Your former in-laws knew that your daughter was their granddaughter, that she was Sebastian’s daughter, but Emily didn’t know they were her paternal grandparents, and for now, you preferred it to stay that way.

You couldn’t deny that it hurt you, but you knew things could be much worse if the couple hadn’t been so understanding. If Heike had believed that you really cheated on her son when you met two months after you had broken all ties with him and his family...

“I also want to buy them something. You know, it’s what I’ve always done,” your mother nodded with a slight smile, perfectly understanding what you meant.

“Have you thought of anything specific, honey?”

“I know Heike went to the market the other day and saw a pot of tulips that caught her attention,” the flower Seb used to give you whenever he had the chance. “I hope there are still some left.”

“I'm sure there will be. You’ll see how you brighten their day.”

I’m sure, you thought to yourself as you finished breakfast. Once you were done and made sure you were a bit tidied up and had everything you needed, you and Emily said goodbye to your parents with the promise of returning in the evening to have dinner together, although you knew you would end up doing overtime at work.

The little one’s blonde hair, completely loose, was tangled by the wind. Her boots were covered in mud because all she did was jump in puddles without letting go of her right hand from yours, and her left from the handle of the Peppa Pig backpack she carried on her shoulders.

“Mommy, why do I have to stay with Aunt Hanna today? It’s your birthday…”

“I have to work, mäuschen,” you said as calmly as you could, trying not to succumb to her gaze. “We have to help granny and pops buy food, pay the rent…”

“But granny and pops are your parents! They have to take care of you like you take care of me,” she interrupted.

You continued chatting cheerfully during the short walk from your house to the flower shop. While the clerk attended to you, Emily couldn’t stop pointing at all the flowers and giving them made-up names.

A few minutes later, you had already paid and arrived at your best friend’s house, who was already waiting for you at her door, arms crossed until she opened them as your daughter ran towards her.

“How is my favorite person in the world today?”

“I’m very good because today is Mommy’s birthday, Aunt Hanna!” she replied, burying herself in her arms. “Mommy said we can go see Heike and Norbert!”

“I bought them yellow tulips.”

You raised the bag with the pot and shrugged as she gave you a disapproving look.

You knew perfectly well that she was thinking the same as you, and you couldn’t agree more. But how were you supposed to tell Sebastian that he had a four-year-old daughter out of nowhere?

You tried to hold back the tears forming in your eyes when you heard the blonde telling your daughter that cartoons were on TV and that she should go watch them because she needed to talk to you. Fortunately, she didn’t object.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do because we’ve been like this for almost five years and you’re old enough to make your own decisions, but…”

“I want to tell him, Hanna,” you blurted out, finally revealing what had been on your mind so many times. “I don’t know when or how, but I’m going to tell Seb that she’s his daughter.”

“I was going to ask if you were okay, but I see you’re not.”

Her face was completely serious, and you sweared that if today weren’t your birthday and you weren’t more sensitive than usual, she would have given you one of the biggest scoldings of your life.

“You know today is a difficult day for me,” you confessed what she already knew. You handed her the bag with the pot you had bought for Heike, and she hesitated whether to take it or not. “Would you mind taking this to Heike’s house? Emily is eager to see her, and I… I can’t go. Not today.”

“Y/N…”

Still holding the pot tightly to her chest and her compassionate eyes piercing you, you noticed her hesitation, finally speaking after a few seconds that felt like an eternity.

“Have you seen how the video is coming along?”

Your heart raced just thinking about the video you uploaded to YouTube yesterday, singing Red. You hadn’t checked its performance, and it wasn't your intention. Like every birthday, you had turned off your mobile phone and ensured the next time you turned it on, it would be with Hanna present to delete the email your ex-boyfriend sent you annually at midnight on your birthday.

“I haven’t seen it, and I don’t plan to,” you responded quickly, turning away. Her hand caught your wrist swiftly, forcing you to turn around. “Come on, Hanna, I have to go to work.”

“I want to talk about this, Y/N. You can’t act like nothing happened. You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“I don’t want to know anything about that, Hanna,” you answered aggressively, referring to any birthday wishes from the German. “I don’t want to read things I shouldn’t. Besides, considering he has free practice today, do you really think he wished me a happy birthday?”

“You should read it, Y/N. I know things between you and Seb aren’t what they used to be, but still…”

“No, Hanna, I don’t want to read it today, tomorrow, or ever.”

With those words, you turned away without even saying goodbye and started walking towards the bar where you worked, for once in your life, determined and with your head held high.

As you walked away, your friend’s voice grew louder, insisting on what you had already made clear you didn’t want:

“Y/N, you should read Seb’s damn message! Damn it, it could be important!”

You stopped for a moment, feeling a lump in your throat as Hanna’s unusual yelling and cursing echoed in your ears.

You turned once again, now facing her but much less determined and, to be honest, a bit scared, though that didn’t mean you would back down or change an opinion you constantly changed out of fear of facing the situation and wanting to change it.

“I don’t want to talk about Seb, Hanna! Just do me a favor and take the pot to Heike, please!” you yelled, feeling the anger taking over you.

“Y/N, I understand you’re confused and want to tell Seb. Maybe today is a good opportunity to get in touch again and…”

“Damn it, Hanna, I already told you I don’t want to talk about this!”

Your shouts were out of control. Your voice trembled, and so did the rest of your body. You hated talking about Seb and not knowing how to handle the situation, but you hated even more when Emily saw you like this and felt guilty for everything.

Now, with tears in her eyes, your daughter’s little head peeked timidly through the front door, unable to control herself as you were.

Once again, you had failed her as you had promised you wouldn’t.

“Hanna…” you said to the blonde, now calmer. You pointed to the child with your head, and she turned to look at her subtly. “I don’t want her to think I don’t love her or that all the problems are her fault, so please: don’t mention Sebastian when we’re together and she’s around. I don’t want to feel like an even worse mother than I already do most days.”

“Understood, no problem. I won’t bring him up in front of the little one.”

You prayed it would be that way, not just on the way to the bar, which wasn’t far from Hanna’s house, but also once you were inside and started preparing everything. While sweeping and mopping, you tried to avoid the mobile phone, but it was impossible. It had been resting on the counter, still off, since you arrived, and you tried your best to keep it that way. You had your daughter, your parents, and your best friend by your side; Niall, since you told him what happened with your ex, started sending you a postcard a few days before just in case it didn’t arrive on time. Even your ex-in-laws met with you, if not the day before, the day after.

What you were trying to avoid at all costs was the damn email that Sebastian sent every April 27th, which you wished you could read but didn’t because you knew it would leave you shattered.

You sighed and ended up taking the device, knowing that if you wanted to reveal the truth to the sunshine of your life, today was a good day to do it, as Hanna had told you.

“Mommy! We have a present for you!”

You jumped when you heard your daughter’s shouts. She and Hanna were running and walking, respectively, towards you. The little one was carrying a bag in one hand in which you could see the head of Billy, her favorite stuffed panda.

She didn’t hesitate to hand you the bag, with the teddy bear included, as soon as she got beside you. Hanna also approached you as you focused on your daughter, holding a cake in her hands.

“Don’t say anything,” she started, knowing you would ask why. “It was Heike’s idea, and since she knows how much you like cookie cake…”

“Especially hers,” you replied with a laugh, remembering all the times you and her son asked her to make that cake beyond special occasions. “God, you don’t know how much I appreciate it. Did she like the tulips?”

She nodded, placing the cake on the counter.

“She said they would have been better if you had given them to her. She wants to see you, Y/N,” she added.

“I know.”

“Do you want us to blow out the candles again, Mommy?”

Emily’s interruption and question took you completely by surprise. It was impossible to resist the sparkle in her eyes and her curved lips; it was as if you were denying Seb, not her.

“Of course, darling.”

Despite how mentally bad you felt, you made an effort not to show it. You took your daughter in your arms, and together you approached the cake. Prater started the singing, and Emily and you joined her immediately, swaying from side to side.

You blew out the candles as soon as they started clapping and, for once in your life, you wished to see Seb again, even if just for a moment.

A welcome, a new beginning or a farewell, a definitive goodbye. At this point you really didn't care much about it.

Thinking too much about Sebastian Vettel in the past few weeks had been the real reason you decided to publish Red yesterday. As you had composed it while pregnant with Emily.

Seeing your daughter not only playing on the little stage where you were used to sing almost every night with a couple of toy cars, including her father’s Ferrari Formula 1 car, and her stuffed animal, reminded you of the countless times Seb and you promised each other this life, but together.

“First of all, I don’t want you to panic, but… you have to see this.”

Hanna Prater’s words scared you like they rarely did.

With her phone in hand and without saying a word, she placed it in front of you, revealing the views the YouTube video you uploaded had garnered in just a day.

Your eyes widened at the high number on the screen. A small scream escaped your lips, startling Hanna, who imitated you, and even Emily, who ran towards you with great concern on her face.

“Mommy, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, darling,” you assured her, trying to contain the shock. “Keep playing. Aunt Hanna and I are talking about some things for my birthday party tonight.”

Your answer seemed to calm her. She nodded with a smile and returned to the stage, leaving you alone again.

"Yes, I know, Hanna, I have to improvise a birthday party now. I swear I'll do it as soon as we finish all this," you replied, anticipating her reproach.

Hanna shook her head and buried herself in her phone again. She seemed completely engrossed in it; her fingers were constantly moving across the screen, worrying you about everything she was trying to show you.

Hanna, I need you to tell me if it's Y/N in this link.

I mean, you don't have to tell me because I know it's her. She sounds exactly like Y/N, and she plays the piano, which is a plus because Y/N knows how to play the piano.

God, I feel like a mix of Sherlock and a stalker.

You understand me, so...

Jeez, tell her to answer to the message I've sent her, please.

I just want to know if the song is about us or if I'm just getting my hopes up four years after breaking up.

And, with those words and butterflies invading your stomach, you clicked on the link he attached. There you were, playing the piano while singing a song about the same guy who had not only talked to your best friend but also to you.

"Did Seb send you that message?" you wanted to know, thinking it was really a joke.

She nodded.

"It seems he didn't just send you the annual email, but also a WhatsApp message."

"A message and an email that, by the way, I am not going to read. Neither of them," you assured her.

"He knows you sing Red, and he suspects Red is about him," your friend began to say. "Don't you think there are too many coincidences for you two to, I don't know, talk or something?"

"I have nothing to talk to him about," you replied.

"Emily's existence means nothing to you then?"

It meant everything, but you had mixed feelings about telling Sebastian.

He was going to hate you, that was clear, but you didn't want that hate to end up being directed at Emily because of something that was completely your fault.

"Emily means everything to me, but I can't let Seb know, at least not for now. He has many chances of winning the championship this year finally, and..."

Once again, another excuse to avoid reality and the fear you had of rejection.

"Y/N, I love you so much and you know it, but you can't keep going on like this," Prater stated, raising her voice a little. "His parents know, yours know; I know, and possibly a large majority of people in this town. For God's sake, even Britta knows, and I don't even know how she hasn't told him yet!"

"Britta came..."

"I know perfectly well that Britta came looking for an explanation, just what Seb didn't do and maybe should have done even though you asked for space," she interrupted you, wanting to continue her impromptu speech. "If you want to move forward, you have to face your fear for once. If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it for Emily. She deserves to know her father and not ask me why her little friends in kindergarten have dads and she doesn't."

Her words made you feel like the villain of the story, the one doing everything wrong. You wanted to ignore her advice and, as always, avoid the subject, but you knew she was right.

"I can't, Hanna. I can't turn on the mobile phone. Not today."

"Allow yourself to start your thirties on the right foot. Don't you think it's better to face fear with someone than to go through it alone? You have me here for whatever you need, Y/N, and you know it."

You let out a long sigh. You walked to the bar, took your cell phone in your trembling hands, and turned it on, feeling the anxiety and uncertainty increase as the device slowly lit up.

When you entered the code and unlocked it, notifications started to appear.

You gradually checked the YouTube notifications, seeing the overwhelming number of likes and comments. Hanna, whose head was peeking to try to see something, shushed you when you ignored the YouTube-related emails and moved on to the text messages, caring little about what she thought.

Niall told you that going viral on your birthday was not only the best thing that could happen to you and the best birthday present they could have given you, but also a whimsical sign from fate to do something worthwhile with your music. At the end of the message, the Irishman asked you to call him when you could, as it was important.

You moved on to Sebastian's PR message, completely ignoring the Irishman's nudge and other various birthday greetings. Britta asked how you could post a video, singing, without telling her anything and, much less, singing about her client. She said you were crazy and lucky that Vettel hadn't suspected anything about the song or, fortunately, about mäuschen.

You calmed down a bit, but the tranquility barely lasted. Seb's message was the one at the top of the WhatsApp home page. It was more than obvious that it was the most recent, from just an hour ago. Also, it was the least one you wanted to open.

You looked up at Hanna, seeking confirmation you knew you didn't need, and that she had already given you.

"Open it, Y/N. It's okay."

You had to be alone when you did it. You asked your friend to take care of Emily and wait for a moment, that you'd be back in a few moments.

You went into the bathroom. You positioned yourself in one of the corners and sat on the floor, legs crossed and the phone in your hands, and started having flashbacks of the day you broke up with Seb.

Happy birthday, Y/N.

If you can and, above all, want to, please read the email I sent you.

I know it's you. The girl behind the song that went viral, I mean.

The song is great, but I couldn't expect anything less from you. It's pure art.

Your tears were already falling down your face. You took a deep breath and forced yourself, though it might not have been better in your current situation, to open the message your ex was talking about.

As usual, you had received it at midnight. And, of course, the profile picture was still one of the two of you lying in bed, him kissing you, and you smiling, just as you were now.

Dear sunshine of my life,

Happy birthday. Or better said: happy thirtieth birthday. 

I know we haven't heard from each other directly in four years. Maybe you see me on TV from time to time, or maybe not, and the last time I saw you was a few years ago, but that's not the point.

Maybe I wasn't the best boyfriend in the world, nor the best friend. I still wonder what I did to make you leave like that, but I won't blame you, at least not after so much time. I miss you more than I can express, and you don't know what I would give to have the chance to fix things between us.

I can't ask you to forgive me, nor can I force you to come back to me or to have a friendship, cordiality or whatever you want to call it, but I hope we can find the opportunity to forgive each other.

If you're ever ready to talk, or for anything you want, I will always be waiting for you, just as I have done for these past four, almost five, years.

P.S.: My mother always tells me she makes a cookie cake for your birthday, so I hope for your thirtieth she makes a special one and you all enjoy it as you deserve.

Tears blurred your vision as you continued reading Sebastian's words. A wave of emotions, ranging from anger and disappointment to perhaps, confusion, flooded every part of your body.

You began to write that you wanted to talk to him, that what you most desired in this world and what you most regretted was the ultimatum you gave him. That you could meet whenever he wanted to tell him everything that had happened since that day in Barcelona. That Emily is his daughter, that she looks more like him every day, and that you're convinced the moment he meets her, she'll become his favorite person.

After rereading all your words, written in desperation, you stopped.

You couldn't send him that; you couldn't reply, at least not yet. You couldn't give him false hopes, not when the possibility that revealing Emily's existence might affect the championship he so longed for with Ferrari, not just since he joined the team in 2015, but since you both barely knew yourselves.

You decided to delete the message and, instead, phone Horan's number, promising yourself that you would reply to Seb as soon as you hung up. You dried your tears, inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm down a bit more, and left the bathroom with much more confidence than when you entered, as you heard the phone ringing.

Emily was still playing, now dancing to some music, while Hanna was speaking too heatedly in your native language with someone. You tried to pay attention to what the blonde was saying, but the Irishman's voice on the phone caught you off guard:

"Next week. London. Joseph Benson being your personal Britta, maybe?"

You didn't understand anything, and the mere mention of Roeske made you shudder. You knew Niall had done it with the best of his intentions, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"What?"

"Capital Records, Y/N," Niall affirmed. "They heard Red and, although they don't know who you are or who the girl behind the song is, better said, I want to introduce you to them. Maybe I told them I knew the girl behind that..."

You saw your friend ending the call too quickly just to approach you, visibly desperate. She made some gestures, grabbing your arms to try get your attention.

"Jeez, Hanna, wait," you replied grumpily in German.

"Is Hanna there?" the singer wanted to know. "Say her hi for me, and thanks in advance for taking care of Emily next week!"

"We'll talk about it later, Niall. People are starting to come into the bar."

With that excuse, and without giving him time to finish talking, you hung up. You turned to Hanna, who was still desperate, making you also start to get desperate and worried.

"What happened?" you demanded to know, considering she hadn't said anything yet.

"I just talked to Sebastian and Britta."

Her expression had now become more serious. Your chest started to ache, and your heart began to beat faster.

"And...?"

"Sebastian is coming next week," she said in a low voice so your daughter wouldn't hear. "I know you'll come up with some excuse, and that you also have to talk to Niall about I don't know, but he wants to talk. Seb wants to talk to you... seriously."

[blueiscoool]

A photo of the body casts of two adults and two children who died in what's now called the house of the golden bracelet in Pompeii. A new DNA analysis shows that these four people are not genetically related to one another. (Image credit: Archeological Park of Pompeii).

DNA Analysis Rewrites The Stories of People Buried in Pompeii

An ancient-DNA analysis of victims in Pompeii who died in Mount Vesuvius' eruption reveals some unusual relations between the people who died together.

Ancient DNA taken from the Pompeii victims of Mount Vesuvius' eruption nearly 2,000 years ago reveals that some people's relationships were not what they seemed, according to a new study.

For instance, an adult who was wearing a golden bracelet and holding a child on their lap was long thought to be a mother with her child. But the new DNA analysis revealed that, in reality, the duo were "an unrelated adult male and child," study co-author David Reich, a professor of genetics at Harvard Medical School, said in a statement.

In another example, a couple who died in an embrace and were "thought to be sisters, or mother and daughter, were found to include at least one genetic male," Reich said. "These findings challenge traditional gender and familial assumptions."

In the study, published Thursday (Nov. 7) in the journal Current Biology, Reich and an international team of researchers looked at the genetics of five individuals who died during the A.D. 79 eruption that killed around 2,000 people.

When Mount Vesuvius erupted, it covered the surrounding area in a deadly layer of volcanic ash, pumice and pyroclastic flow, burying people alive and preserving the shapes of many bodies beneath the calcified layers of ash. The remains of the city were rediscovered only in the 1700s. In the following century, archaeologist Giuseppe Fiorelli perfected his plaster technique, in which he filled in the human-shaped holes left after the bodies had decomposed to create casts of the victims.

The casts of two people who died about 2,000 years ago in the house of the cryptoporticus in Pompeii. A new DNA analysis found that one individual was biologically male, but the sex of the other could not be determined. (Image credit: Archeological Park of Pompeii).

The casts allowed scholars to study the victims in their last moments and make hypotheses about their identities based on details such as their locations, positions and apparel. The problem with this approach, however, was that their interpretations were influenced by modern-day assumptions — for instance, that the four people at the house with the golden bracelet, which included the adult holding the child, were two parents with their children, when in reality none of them were genetically related, the researchers wrote in the study.

For their research, the team analyzed 14 casts and extracted DNA from fragmented skeletal remains in five of them. By analyzing this genetic material, the scientists determined the individuals' genetic relationships, sex and ancestry. The team concluded that the victims had a "diverse genomic background," primarily descending from recent eastern Mediterranean immigrants, per the statement, confirming the Roman Empire's multiethnic reality.

The cast of a person who died in the villa of the mysteries in Pompeii in A.D. 79. (Image credit: Archeological Park of Pompeii).

Our findings have significant implications for the interpretation of archaeological data and the understanding of ancient societies," study co-author Alissa Mittnik, an archaeogeneticist at Harvard Medical School and the Max Planck Institute for Evolutionary Anthropology in Germany, said in the statement. "They highlight the importance of integrating genetic data with archaeological and historical information to avoid misinterpretations based on modern assumptions."

It's possible that past misconceptions led to the "exploitation of the casts as vehicles for storytelling," meaning that curators may have manipulated the victims' "poses and relative positioning" for exhibits, the team wrote in the study.

Sex misassignment is "not uncommon" in archaeology, Carles Lalueza-Fox, a biologist at the Institute of Evolutionary Biology (CSIC-UPF) in Barcelona who specializes in the study of ancient DNA but was not involved with the study, said in an email.

"Of course we look at the past with the cultural eyes of the present and this view is sometimes distorted; for me the discovery of a man with a golden bracelet trying to save an unrelated child is more interesting and culturally complex than assuming it was a mother and her child," Lalueza-Fox said.

By Margherita Bassi.

[barcaatthemoon]

alexia putellas "I'd be willing to lose everything to make them happy."

spotlight || alexia putellas x reader ||

Alexia's hands were shaking as she tried to reread your note. You had left sometime during the day, and Alexia knew it was bad that she didn't know when. She knew now that she should have taken you seriously when you told her that you couldn't sit in the background anymore. You had been so upset about Alexia forgetting something, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was.

"Do you understand how stupid you are?" Alexia was so out of it that she wasn't phased by Patri barging into her apartment. All Alexia wanted was for you to come back because it had only been maybe a few hours since she noticed that you were gone, but she missed you so much.

"Amor, calm down," Mapi tried, but Ingrid was on a tear.

"She moved here all the way from Norway because you wanted her to. She took a job coaching at a much lower level because you wanted her to be closer. She gave up a spot in the Champions League because of you, and this is what you do!" Ingrid was absolutely livid, and Alexia understood why.

"I'd be willing to lose everything to make her happy. I don't know what's been happening, things got away from me, okay? I know what she's given up for me, and I should have been better. If she comes back, I will be." Alexia was practically in tears. Still, Ingrid didn't seem to calm down at all. Mapi felt for her friend, even if she was angry on your behalf like Ingrid.

"Will you give us a minute?" Everybody seemed to freeze at your question, none of them having heard you approach. Mapi led Ingrid out, leaving you alone with Alexia. "We're both at important places in our careers, and that's why at the transfer window, I'm going to Germany. It's not what I was offered in Sweden, but it'll help get me there. Your career has taken a spotlight to our relationship for years, and now it's my turn, Ale."

"Does this mean that we have to break up?" Alexia asked you. She looked so sad and scared. You knew distance wasn't easy, but it wasn't anything that you weren't used to. This was really the first time you'd been living with Alexia in the four years that you'd been seeing each other.

"No, of course not. We'll just have to make adjustments again, that's all. We still have the offseason and all sorts of breaks. We'll be fine, it just won't be easy. Besides, we have a couple months before I have to leave," you told her. Alexia seemed to relax a bit at that, but you knew that she'd get wound up again right before you left.

"I don't like the idea of you leaving, but I understand why you are. I'm sorry for neglecting you after begging you to stay, it was stupid of me. You're gonna do great in Germany. They'll promote you in no time." Alexia's enthusiasm and optimism was a bit forced, but you knew that it wasn't because she didn't believe in you. She absolutely did, and that was why she knew you'd be away for a long time.

[wileys-russo]

hi! laura freigang, 'can i use a picture of you as my phone's background?', locker room please?

lockscreen II l.freigang

you woke up to a flash in your face, ducking your head beneath the covers with a groan. "go away lau!" you moaned kicking out at your best friend who only grinned, tugging the covers away from you.

"it was for the collection!" laura explained as if that was completely normal as you tiredly glared up at her. "get out of my room, its not even eight yet!" you realised with a groan, shoving her a little harder than intended as she went rolling backwards off the bed.

you sat up with a start, covering your grin with your hand as the blonde moaned clutching her head which had collided with the carpet.

"sorry?" you tried with an innocent smile as she sat up and fixed you with a venomous glare. "idiot!" she huffed unappreciative of your efforts. "in my defense i have warned you before about not waking me before nine unless its an emergency." you reminded with a shrug.

"i was waking you because i made breakfast but now i think i will go give it to that cranky lady next door, she would be more appreciative!" the blonde grumbled standing to her feet with a shake of her head, stretching out her back.

"no no, no need! thank you." you shot up from bed, kissing her cheek in thanks before racing off toward the kitchen too fast to see the way the girls face burned beetroot red at the tiny gesture of affection.

laura had been pining over you for months now, and it was painful that it was obvious to absolutely everyone but you, even her teammates teasings only causing you to roll your eyes and dismiss them with a wave when they joked you were secretly dating.

laura could only wish to be so lucky, and only wish you'd finally see that all the little things she did for you was because she was crushing on you hard.

ever since you'd moved to the club the girl felt her knees wobble a little when you were introduced to the team, the first to put her hand up to show you around and within a couple of weeks the two of you were thick as thieves and laura had offered you her spare room while you hunted for a place of your own.

it was an offer which beat the pull out sofa you were currently sleeping on in an old school friends one bedroom loft who'd moved to germany for university and just never come back.

you'd be lying if you said without laura you'd have lost your mind and probably quit to move back home. she helped you set up everything, get better at the language, offered friendship and a comfortable bed beneath your back, cooked everyday for you and showed you around new places each weekend between matches.

you hadn't realized it just yet but you were also crushing hard on the blonde, only you'd grown up with four older brothers and attributed nearly every strong feeling you had toward a woman as just a longing for friendship.

it was idiotic how blind you were really.

"so." you looked up from your spot at your cubby, training finished for the day as you were icing your ankle you'd rolled, most of the team having already left for the day laura was kindly waiting around until the physio came back to check you over, currently in a meeting.

"as you know i've been making my phone look nicer." laura started as you chuckled, amused by her sudden interest in aesthetics which was spurred on by a late night tiktok doom scroll as you lay together 'hanging out' in complete silence in her room the other night.

"i found a lockscreen-" she turned to show you a photo she'd taken at the markets on one of her film cameras, smiling at the familiar setting. "-but, can i use a photo of you as my phone background?" she asked hopefully as you groaned.

"what!" she huffed, a little offended by your reaction. "not if its one of those awful pictures you always take of me sleeping, or eating, or at that gross zoomed out angle but super close and-" you started to protest making her frown switch to a grin.

"no schatz, not a bad photo." she patted your knee reassuringly, sliding closer to you as your head fell to her shoulder, missing the way she tensed up a little, clearing her throat.

"i have nice ones. i will even let you choose!" laura promised as you hummed and she clicked into her camera roll, selecting an album with a little sun emoji.

"see? look these are all candid ones of you. at the farmers market, out at dinner, cooking at home, when we went to ikea, when we went to the night festival, getting coffee-" as she scrolled slowly through, something suddenly clicked in your mind.

in nearly all of these you and laura had been hanging out, but always just the two of you. you took turns paying for things, you were always laughing, she was always surprising you with little adventures or taking you to new places and forcing you out of your comfort zone.

but it was always just with laura, and then it clicked for you, it was laura, you loved laura.

the girl was too busy recounting the story behind one of the hundreds of photos in the album with a soft smile on her face to notice you pull your head away to look at her, finally seeing the slight blush on her cheeks and not missing the twinkle in her eye.

so maybe, just maybe, laura loved you too.

"lau." you interrupted, cutting her off mid sentence as she looked up and caught your eye, blush intensifying as she did. "was i rambling? oh god i was rambling wasn't i? i told you when that happens to snap me out of it or tell me to shut up or-" she started again making you smile.

"lau?" "yeah?" "shut up." you grinned as she did too, tips of her ears flushed pink which you found quite cute, suddenly now noticing a lot of little features you'd taken for granted.

"do you trust me?" you asked softly and the blonde nodded without a moments hesitation, but in her most wild of dreams she'd never expected what came next as your hand moved to settle on the back of her neck and you leaned in until you were barely a hairsbreadth away.

"is this okay?" you whispered, checking one last time as all the german could do was nod, dumbfounded and unsure if this was actually happening until you leaned in just that tiny bit further and pressed your lips to hers.

this was really happening, and as laura dropped her phone into her lap, tugging you even closer and kissing you back like you were her last breath of air, you realised that yeah, your laura did love you back, and this was the start of a brand new adventure together.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price is hurting. Nikolai drops everything to be there for him.

CW: aftermath of torture, vulnerable John Price, somewhat tough love Nikolai. They're in love, your honour.

Price needs you.

The lieutenant had always been a man of few words and so he used them wisely. He knew those three alone would make Nikolai drop whatever he was doing, wherever he was in the world, and move heaven and earth to reach the captain's side. His reply had been brief:

Where?

The next text contained the address. Landstuhl. An American-run Level 2 trauma centre, perhaps the biggest outside America itself. Within the hour, Nik had filed his flight plan and was on his way to Germany, stopping only briefly to grab some supplies from a local corner shop. His final message to Lieutenant Riley had been his ETA.

They were expecting him. He left his Heli in the capable hands of personnel on the airfield and hopped into the back of a jeep which took him straight to the hospital.

A familiar mask greeted him at the entrance and the lieutenant filled him in as they walked the corridors. "There was a mole that leaked just enough intel to set an ambush for us. He dropped a building on his own head to cover our escape. Presumed K.I.A," Ghost paused as a trolley rattled past them, the patient hooked up with IVs and tubes, the nurses exchanging hurried chatter. Nik felt numb in the silence, selfishly relieved that he had been spared those few days of mourning. "A few days later Laswell picked up chatter that they had a British soldier in captivity. Hoping to get intel out of him, but he was putting up a fight. They couldn't break him with usual methods."

Nik couldn't help but smile ruefully at that. He had been captured with John only once, back when he had first turned for NATO. The scars from that encounter spidered over John's lower back and hip like lightning. Nik kissed them every time they made love; a reminder of just how much they had survived. "How long?"

"Three days with them before we knew, two days to get us in there and him out. It was enough time." They stepped into a lift and it carried them up to intensive care. It ground to a halt with a soft groan, doors sliding open to reveal bleached white halls and a reception desk. "He's in bad shape. They hurt him, more ways 'n we can see."

They drew to a stop three doors down the corridor and Nik peered through the glass into the dimly lit room to John's prone form, before grabbing the clipboard tucked into a plastic sleeve to the right of the windowpane.

Two bulging disks, dislocated shoulder, four fingers broken on the left hand, fracture in the left tibia and fibula, broken ribs, missing lower left first and second molars, lacerations and stab wounds to the torso...

"He must be in agony," Nik said, his voice thick in his throat. The end of the list made him feel sick with anger and sadness, and he reread it twice more through the mist in his eyes. The risks were part of the job. The world they inhabited, the path they walked, it was a cruel one full of pain and danger. It could snuff them out at any moment. Knowing that, understanding it, didn't make this list any easier to digest.

"He won't take the pain killers," Ghost murmured, his eyes not on Nik, but studying his captain through the hatched window. "They hooked him up with a button so they don't need t' keep offerin' only for him to tell them to piss off, but he won't press it."

Nik looked up into the intense stare Ghost levelled on him. None of the 141 could, or would, go against John's wishes. He had ordered them to run in whichever hellhole they had been operating and they had, despite every part of them revolting against the idea of leaving him to die. Now they fought the same battle with his orders to leave him to fester in his own pain, except this time Ghost could call in back up.

Nik could see the exhaustion in Ghost's eyes, red and watery, and pictured him pacing up and down this corridor like a caged animal as he had waited for Nik to arrive. All his training didn't prepare him for this; the anxious waiting in the aftermath, powerless to help or do anything but watch his captain suffer. Nik slid the clipboard back into place. "Get some rest, lieutenant. I will take this watch."

Ghost nodded and turned back towards the lift. Before he walked away, he glanced one last time into John's room, as if to assure himself his captain was still there. Still breathing. Nik hefted his overnight bag higher up his shoulder and walked into the room.

One of the machines was beeping, reading John's heightened heart rate and each panting breath that rattled from his chest. Nik nudged the window open, letting in the cool spring air, and dumped his bag and jacket on the nearby chair.

"Hallo, solnyshko," Nik said softly as he stepped up to the bed, his palm smoothing John's damp hair from his face.

John looked up, bright blue eyes swimming with pain, and still managed a faint smile at the sight of his favourite Russian looking over him. "Nik, when'd'ya arrive?"

"I landed ten minutes ago. I came when they said you had been hurt."

"Not... in great shape, it'll..." John squeezed his eyes shut, face creasing in a deep grimace, as one of the machines woke in a flurry of beeps before quietening again.

"The lieutenant said you are refusing treatment." Nik continued to gently pet John's hair, but studied the rest of him, like Ghost he needed to drink in the sight of a living John Price, even one battered, bruised and hurting.

The medics had shaved patches off his chest to stick the monitors on his skin, the blankets pooled down to his waist, revealing heavy bandages with dark bruises colouring anything they didn't cover. Nik saw the button Ghost had mentioned on the bed near John's right hand, and carefully gathered it into John's fingers.

John huffed. "Don't... It... It makes my head go, I can't..." Another soft pant, another grimace.

"You need to rest, John. You need to sleep."

"N-no, Nik... Nik..." John's voice cracked around Nik's name the second time as Nik gently squeezed his fingers against the button. He tried to pull his hand away, but Nik's grip was firm, unyielding despite its tenderness. John looked panicked, frightened, as the medication curled through his body and began to take effect. Nik could imagine how he had warded the others off with anger and waspish dismissal, but now he writhed and twitched helplessly, pleading. "Please, mmph... Nik, n--"

"It's okay, it's okay, I am here, ssshh, it's okay, forgive me," Nik whispered gently, still stroking John's hair as blue eyes became unfocused, blinking slower with each passing second despite desperately trying to stay open. "That's it," Nik wiped a tear from John's cheek as it slid free, and then leaned down to kiss his forehead, whispering against damp skin, "sleep, beloved. I will be here. You will not be alone, I promise."

John's eyes blinked for the last time and stayed closed, his body, pulled taut briefly in panic, now relaxed, his head tilting into Nik's palm.

The machines calmed after their flurry of activity, the beeps silencing now that they weren't alerting anyone to a potential problem. Nik stood there for some time once he had released John's hand, still stroking his head, even when he leaned down to kiss him. He kissed John's face, his chest, his jaw, tender to avoid aggravating the cuts and bruises marring his skin, but lingering each time to feel the warmth beneath his lips, to smell the deep scent of him; living, breathing. John.

Once he was certain of John's comfort, Nik dragged the chair over to sit close to his side, enveloping John's fingers, occasionally lifting them to his lips for a kiss before returning them to the soft blanket.

The recovery for this one was likely to be long, and John was stubborn. Stubborn in his demand for control, stubborn in his resistance to help. It was a toxic coping strategy born from necessity and trauma. Unhelpful at best, self destructive at worst.

Sometimes John needed tough love and there were few people in the world willing to administer it to him, or able to push through the abrasive defences he put up to ward them off. Ghost had called Nik because he knew he was the man for the job; he would stay until the bitter end, refusing to abandon John no matter how loud he brayed or how viciously he snarled.

Nik closed his eyes as he brought John's hand to his lips once more, drawing in a stuttering breath as he took a moment in the quiet to come to terms with just how close he'd come to losing him forever.

[meazalykov]

dance moms

laura freigang x dancer!reader

summary: after moving back to germany, to escape the chaos you've suffered in the states, you meet a photographer (who happens to be a footballer as well.)

a/n: if you don't know what the american reality show "dance moms" is, I'd do some basic research in order to understand the first part of this fic <3

growing up at the ALDC felt like being in a pressure cooker. 

you were only two years old when your mom, isla, moved the both of you from germany to pennsylvania in the united states. 

she put you in dance classes as soon as she could. at first, it was exciting—you loved the way your body could express emotions through movement. you loved gaining flexibility and having a routine. you loved performing and getting to put on pretty costumes. but that changed the moment dance moms came into the picture.

at just eleven years old, you were pulled into the chaotic world of reality TV. cameras followed your every move, every mistake. 

abby lee miller’s constant critiques weighed you down, her screaming echoing in your head long after rehearsals ended. she changed since the cameras started filming her. 

“you’ll never be good enough if you don’t push harder, y/n!” she’d shout during practice, her words biting deep into your skin like needles.

there were moments where you had solos. those were the dances you loved the most. you always scored very well and got on top of the pyramid whenever maddie wasn’t. 

sometime during season four, there was a significant moment that didn’t leave your mind for a while. 

you stood in the wings at a competition in san diego, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath after your solo. the adrenaline rushed through your veins, but it was dulled by the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

you’d stumbled on one of your turns—something that wasn’t like you at all. but it was there, clear as day, right in front of the judges and the audience. and now, you were about to face abby.

as soon as they announced the results, you knew it wasn’t going to be good. 

second place. you’d lost to maddie. again. but what made it worse was that you weren’t just up against anyone—this was a week where you were up against the candy apples. abby’s biggest rivals. 

this meant that her mood was already sour, and you knew this was going to tip her over the edge.

the second you stepped into the dressing rooms, abby’s gaze was already locked on you, her face a storm of frustration and anger. 

she didn’t even wait for everyone to sit down before coming at you.

“second place?” abby barked, her voice sharp as a whip. “second place, y/n? you know that’s not acceptable. not here!” 

you flinched but kept your head down, your heart racing. you wanted to explain—to say that the stumble was a mistake, something you couldn’t control—but you knew it wouldn’t matter. not to abby.

“what happened out there?” she demanded, sitting down in her chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

“you stumbled on a turn, y/n. a turn! something you should be perfect at by now.”

you swallowed hard, your throat dry. “i know, abby. i’m sorry. i—i just—”

“sorry isn’t good enough,” abby cut you off, her voice dripping with disappointment. “you don’t get to be sorry when you’re given this great opportunity! maddie would’ve never done that and her first place showed that!” 

the mention of maddie stung more than anything. it always felt like you were in her shadow, no matter how hard you worked. no matter how much you tried to prove yourself. 

abby’s golden girl could do no wrong, and you were left picking up the pieces when you didn’t measure up.

“you’re better than that,” abby continued, pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“you’re one of my best dancers, but today? you danced like an amateur. you embarrassed me, y/n. you embarrassed this entire team.”

her words hit you like a slap, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you didn’t want to cry—not in front of abby, not in front of the other girls—but it was hard to hold it in.

“abby, i’m—”

“don’t say you’re sorry again,” she snapped, her voice rising. 

“i don’t want to hear it. i want you to do better. no more mistakes, no more excuses. if you want to be a star, you need to act like one. and today, you didn’t.”

you stood there, frozen, trying to keep your emotions in check as abby continued to berate you. 

it felt like the weight of the world was crushing you, and all you wanted was for the ground to swallow you whole.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, abby huffed and shook her head. “go. i don’t want to look at you right now.”

with those final words, you turned and walked away to get ready for the group dance, your body feeling heavier with every step. 

backstage before the group, you caught maddie’s eye, and she gave you a small, sympathetic smile. but it didn’t make you feel any better. nothing could right now.

you wanted to scream, to cry, to ask your mom why she let you stay in this mess, why she let abby tear you down like this. 

your mom stood by you and seemed like your biggest supporter. but as the years passed and you became a fixture on the show, you started to wonder why she allowed it. 

why she let abby break you down, week after week. 

“mom, why do we keep doing this?” you asked one evening after a particularly brutal competition weekend. 

“why do you let her treat me like this?” 

“it’s for your future, y/n,” isla had said, eyes clouded with hope—or maybe guilt. 

“you’re going to be a star.”

but that wasn’t how you felt. you didn’t want to be a star anymore. 

after six seasons on dance moms, you were burnt out. drained. you’d lost your passion for dance, the thing that once gave you joy now filled with dread. 

when you turned sixteen, you’d had enough. 

“i can’t do this anymore,” you told your mom one night after another exhausting filming day. “i want out.”

isla had hesitated, but eventually, the both of you left the show. the cameras stopped rolling, but the damage had already been done. 

the chaos, the constant pressure to be perfect—it stripped you of any love you had for dancing. you couldn’t even look at a dance studio without feeling a knot form in your stomach. 

you grew distant from your mom too. it was hard to understand why she had put you through it. 

“why didn’t you just protect me?” you’d whispered one evening, tears filling your eyes. but isla didn’t have an answer that made sense.

by the time you turned 19 in 2019, you were desperate for a fresh start. you packed your things and moved back to frankfurt germany, your birthplace. 

germany felt different—calmer, quieter. your mother didn’t come back with you which relieved you.

it was exactly what you needed. 

over the next few years, you dove into therapy, trying to unpack the trauma of your childhood. it was slow, difficult work, but through it, you discovered a few other hobbies like photography, and ceramics. you went to university too.

and then, suddenly, almost unexpectedly, dance found its way back to you. 

therapy helped you see it differently—no longer as something tied to pain, but as something that had once been yours. something beautiful. 

by 2022, you were back in the studio, dancing again, feeling lighter than you had in years.

you built your own studio in a nice neighborhood in frankfurt. you weren’t a dance instructor now, maybe someday, but you used the space to practice or hire (emotionally available) dance instructors to help you.

one afternoon, while you were in the middle of a lyrical practice, your friend macy and her sister, sara, showed up at your studio.

the three of you had become close since you moved back to germany. 

macy went to your university before you both graduated. she had nice tan skin and long raven colored hair. 

her older sister sara is a footballer who plays for frankfurt frauen. sara was like an older sister to you, while macy was your confidant. 

“y/n, you’ve gotta hear this,” macy said, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.

you wiped sweat from your forehead, raising an eyebrow. “what now?”

“sara’s photographer friend wants to take pictures of you, specifically, for her portfolio, she’s been keeping up with your instagram content!” macy explained. sara nodded in agreement.

“you know, someone who can capture those insane moves of yours,” sara chimed in with a laugh.

you hesitated for a moment, but to your own surprise, you agreed. “okay, sure. why not?”

both macy and sara looked shocked. 

“wow, that was easier than i thought it would be,” macy said, her eyes wide.

“yeah, thought we’d have to convince you a little more,” sara added with a chuckle.

two days later, you found yourself at a field location, waiting for the photographer. 

the sun was setting, casting a warm golden glow over the area, when you saw her—laura freigang. 

she was taller than you expected, with an easy smile and a camera slung over her shoulder. you couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was, and you made a mental note to ask sara about her later.

“you must be y/n, i’m laura” laura said, walking up to you.

“that’s me,” you replied, feeling a little flustered as her eyes met yours. 

the shoot started, and laura was immediately in her element, capturing your movements with film. she had a way of making you feel comfortable, encouraging you to move naturally. 

“that’s perfect, just like that,” she’d say, her voice soft but confident. the tone of her voice made you feel a certain type of way as well.

you danced freely, twirling and leaping in the open field, and every now and then, you’d catch her smiling at you from behind the camera. 

there was one moment where laura calls you out for something, 

“where are you from in america?” laura asked. 

this was during a water break after shooting yourself doing high kicks and pirouettes.

“i was born here, but i lived in pennsylvania after i turned two. for a while i lived in california but that was until 3 years ago, when i moved back here.” you swallowed, thinking about the distant memories of your childhood. 

“pennsylvania! i went to penn state for a while!” laura says, surprised. 

“that is so cool!”

afterwards, there was definitely some flirting going on—small comments, lingering looks. after the shoot wrapped up, laura lowered her camera, looking at you with a playful glint in her eyes. 

“you know, this was fun. thank you for doing this for me. we should do it again sometime… maybe over dinner?”

you blinked, caught off guard but quickly recovering. 

“are you asking me out on a date, laura freigang?”

she smirked. “i guess i am.”

you smiled. “okay, i’m in.”

two days later, you were sitting across from her at a cozy restaurant, the low hum of conversation filling the air. 

the two of you clicked instantly, talking about everything from the shoot to your different interests. halfway through the meal, you said something which confuses laura. 

“do you have other hobbies beside photography? you seem like a pretty busy woman.” you smirk. 

“i’m sorry?” laura’s eyebrows raise. 

your eyes widen, afraid that you said something that is offensive.

“wait i’m sorry– its just sara tells me that you’re a photographer so i wondered if you do other things. do you go to another uni here after you left penn state or if you do modeling or–” you pause as laura giggles. 

“i’m flattered that you think i am a model– but i play for frankfurt and the german national team with sara...”

your eyes widened in surprise. how did sara not tell you this? she just made it seem like laura was just a photographer in frankfurt.

“wait, seriously? you’re a footballer and a photographer?”

laura grinned. “yeah. i like to keep busy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling more flustered than you’d like to admit. 

“that’s... really impressive,” you said, feeling a little shy under her gaze.

as time passed, you started going to laura’s games, cheering her on from the stands. 

your bond deepened with every date, every conversation, until one day, laura asked you to be her girlfriend inside of her living room.

the soft glow of the floor lamp laura has casting a warm light over her space. you sat on her couch, legs curled under you, a half-empty cup of tea resting on the table in front of you. 

you’d spent the evening like this, just talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. but now, a comfortable silence had settled between you, the kind that felt intimate without needing to be filled.

laura sat beside you, her arm resting along the back of the couch. you could feel the warmth of her presence next to you, and every so often, your hands would brush when one of you reached for something or shifted in your seat. 

each touch sent a small spark of electricity through you, a reminder of the feelings you’d been harboring for her since that photoshoot months ago.

“you’ve been quiet for a bit,” you finally said, glancing over at her, noticing the way her jaw clenched slightly, like she was trying to find the right words.

she looked at you, her eyes soft but searching. “yeah, i’ve just… been thinking,” she said quietly, her voice low and a little hesitant.

“thinking?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening just a little. you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on behind those light colored eyes of hers. “about what?”

she took a deep breath, turning her body slightly toward you. the air in the room shifted, something heavier settling between the two of you. “about you,” she said, her voice steady now, like she had finally made up her mind about what she wanted to say.

your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your chest tighten. "me?" you asked softly, not sure where this was going, but the intensity in laura's gaze was undeniable.

“yeah, you,” she repeated, her eyes not leaving yours. 

“we’ve spent a lot of time together these past few months, nearly everyday, and i’ve really gotten to know you. i didn’t expect to feel this way when i first met you at that shoot, but,” she trailed off, her hand moving to gently take yours, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “i can’t stop thinking about you.”

your heart raced as she spoke, her words settling in the space between you like a confession you’d been secretly waiting for but never expected to hear. 

“laura…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, your emotions tangled up in the moment.

“i know this might be a lot,” she said, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly, “but i really like you, y/n. i don’t want to keep dancing around it anymore.” she paused, her eyes softening as she looked at you, her vulnerability laid bare. 

you both giggled at her pun before she spoke, 

“can i be your girlfriend?”

“what wait?” you were surprised. 

“will you be my girlfriend!?”

for a moment, you couldn’t speak. your mind raced with thoughts of every moment you’d shared, the way she made you feel without even trying, the way her presence made the world seem quieter, more bearable. 

you’d known this was going to happen someday, but hearing her say it out loud made it all feel more real than you’d imagined.

“yes,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. but the word hung in the air like a promise, and the smile that broke across laura’s face made your heart feel like it might burst. “yes, i’d love to.”

her smile widened, and she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a moment, the closeness of her sending a shiver down your spine. 

"yay," she murmured softly, her breath warm against your skin.

your fingers intertwined with hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to let go of the fears, the doubts, the baggage from your past. 

in that moment, it was just you and laura, your hearts laid bare, and the quiet understanding that something beautiful was beginning between the two of you.

you chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at laura fully. “how about i cook for you? tomorrow night?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"i’m pretty good in the kitchen."

laura raised an eyebrow, smirking. "oh really? a dancer, a university graduate, and a chef? you're just full of surprises."

you grinned, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “you’ll have to find out for yourself.” 

and as she pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

it didn’t take long for fan pages to catch on. suddenly, everyone was talking about how one of their favorite childhood dancers was now dating a german footballer. 

fans were floored and happy for you-- but to you, it was surreal in the best way. 

as you sat next to laura after one of her games, her hand wrapped around yours, you couldn’t help but think that despite everything—despite the chaos of your past—you’d finally found happiness. 

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

a/n: wrote this two months ago but i wasn’t sure if i liked the writing and the concept😭 ill still post it anyways

[kimi240302]

I´m Yours

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Words: 3,5k

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list

Last Part of Daylight Masterlist

Warning: violence towards a character

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“Tryna wash away all the blood I´ve spilt This lust is a burden that we both share  Two sinners can´t atone from  a lone prayer  Souls tied, interwined by our pride and guilt”

-David Kushner

"I promise you...," Y/N paused, turning her gaze away from Mara, who was standing in front of her with her arms crossed, and looking at Mick, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow as he made himself comfortable on Mara's bed.

"I promise you I'll be back. I just want to be alone for an hour or two." Annoyed, the young Swan exhaled. She felt smothered within the four walls of the hotel room where she had lain in bed for the past three days. The fact that her two best friends, had not let her out of their sight for a second since the night with Demetri, supported this feeling.

Determined, Y/N took her bag from the bed and hung it over her shoulder. "Besides, you two could use some time alone." The young girl left no more room for arguments from her friends, as she was already halfway out the door when she spoke those words. But Y/N paused once more, stretching her torso back through the still-open crack of the door and looking back and forth between Mara and Mick in turn. "Just please don't have sex on my bed." Laughing, Y/N closed the door as Mara angrily threw one of the guidebooks at her, while Mick just laughed.

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On the street in front of the hotel, Y/N stopped. She turned her face up to the gray sky. She flinched slightly as the first raindrops trickled down onto the skin of her face. Pressing her raincoat closer to her body, she dropped the smile she had put on for her friends and closed her eyes.

The raindrops slowly began to make their way down Y/N's face, but they didn't bother the young girl, quite the opposite. Y/N gratefully accepted the coldness of the water. The drops replaced the tears that she herself no longer had left to cry. For once, taking a deep breath, she absorbed the smell of the rain, the certainty settled in her bones that tonight was the last evening for her in Volterra.

Tomorrow morning, she would fly back with her class, and never return. Y/N would then go back to Forks, to her father, her sister, and the Cullens, and Demetri would exist only in her memories from that point on. This thought sent a shiver down the young girl's body.

Shaking herself slightly, Y/N turned her head straight ahead again and started moving. She didn't know where to go, since she didn't know her way around Volterra. But she didn't want to go back to the hotel room either, so the young Swan decided to just start walking and hoping that nothing would happen to her.

„To live is the rarest thing in the World. Most people exist, that is all!”

Hours had passed during which Y/N walked around lost in thought. She had lost her sense of direction and was aware that her friends and classmates were certainly worried. But the young girl could not convince herself to turn back or take out her cell phone and find her way back to the hotel.

Y/N was soaked, confused and exhausted. She didn't know what she wanted or what she was trying to accomplish by wandering around Volterra.

With tears welling up again, the Swan girl sat down on the edge of a fountain that stood in the middle of an empty, yet lit, sidewalk. She let her fingertips glide over the water and smiled slightly at each tear drop that fell into the water. The rain had stopped and so had her will to resist the tears. With her free hand, Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled note Demetri had left in the book. Again she read the lines written there in black ink, as she had done over and over again in the last few days.

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't be walking around outside alone at this hour, or at all alone with your mind elsewhere."

Startled, Y/N winced. She stuffed the note back into her pocket and stood up properly. As she did so, she didn't take her eyes off the man who had appeared behind her as if out of nowhere.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment as she saw the stranger's grin grow larger. Even though she tried, Y/N couldn't stop the tremor in her voice. Which only confirmed to her opposite that the young girl was definitely alone and scared.  

The unknown man took another step towards Y/N, which she answered with a step closer to the fountain. Defensively, the stranger raised his hands. "Don't worry little girl, I won't hurt you." The young Swan's eyes widened. She immediately felt as if she was looking at the man properly for the first time. His skin was almost white as snow, while his eyes seemed black. Y/N swallowed, for she had a feeling that if she had met him on any other day, his eyes would be red. She also did not notice any breathing or blinking of the eyes.

Laughing, the man approached Y/N, he reached out a hand and placed it on her cheek, making her wince as panic began to spread inside her. The stranger's skin was as cold as ice. "Not as long as you don't fight back," he finished the sentence he had started.

Startled, Y/N slapped the man's hand away, surprising him, and ran. The vampire immediately started laughing, which echoed on the empty street and made Y/N run even faster. She knew that the castle of Volterra couldn't be far, since magically it was always the first thing she saw when she walked through the streets. If the young girl could reach it before her attacker, she was safe, she would be with Demetri.

Without warning, Y/N slammed into the side of the wall with her entire body. Gasping for air, she hit the hard floor. She caught the impact with her hands, causing the skin on them to split open in some places. Blood leaked from the small openings, causing the unknown vampire to draw air through his nose. "Your blood smells better than anything I've ever smelled!" He muttered to himself, his eyes still closed.

Gritting her teeth, Y/N tried to crawl silently away from the vampire. But he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. Calling for help, she began kicking and punching at her attacker with her legs and arms. All this triggered another loud laugh. The vampire put his hands around Y/N's neck pulling her up by it and pressing her against the brick wall. As he did so, his grip tightened with each passing second. Y/N tried to strike at him with her hands, also scratching at his hands to loosen the grip on her neck, but her attempts were in vain. Just as black dots began to surround her field of vision, the vampire let go of her and caught her body. Gasping for air, she noticed how there was no spark of strength left in her. Her body felt limp and burning. "Such a pretty thing. If I wasn't so hungry, I would have spent more time with you."

The vampire supported her body with one hand while turning her face to the side with the other. He let the dome of his index finger trail over her pulse point as he grinned in satisfaction. "Please don't..." , Y/N muttered. "Don't worry it will be over quickly!" This was the last thing Y/N was aware of until the pain set in. The vampire had buried his fangs in her neck. Y/N felt her life being literally sucked out of her as the vampire drank more and more of her blood. Again black dots began to dance in front of her eyes and the only thing she could think about was Demetri, while more and more tears ran down her cheeks.

With a jolt, the feeling of the vampire in front of her disappeared, as did the arm holding her upright. Exhausted and preparing to hit the ground again, Y/N closed her eyes. However, before Y/N hit the ground one more time she was stopped by two arms and pinned against a chest.

"Mon amour please open your eyes!" Demetri pleaded with his mate. Blinking, she opened her eyes, contorted her face in pain, and then looked him straight in the eye. "Demetri, you're here." Her voice was no longer even a whisper. Carefully, Demetri stroked Y/N's bloodied hair from her face and left his hand on her cheek. "I will always be where you are. You just have to promise me to stay awake!" Smiling weakly, she placed a hand on his cheek, trembling. "I'm so sorry." Confused, the vampire looked at her. "Sorry for what?" His mate shook her head weakly, her eyelids beginning to flutter as her hand slid down from his cheek.

Everything around Demetri slowed down. The sounds of his friends killing the vampire became a low hiss as Y/N's eyes began to close and her pulse continued to slows. Demetri rested his forehead against his mate's. "Please don't leave me again! You can't leave me!"  

But Y/N no longer understood a word, the ringing in her ears had become far too loud for that. "I love you, Demetri Volturi." Whether she said it out loud or just thought it, she didn't know, but she was glad to have seen the man she loved once again, before her world went black and her body went limp in his arms, she knew she was finally home.

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""Will she be awake in time?" Aro, and every other vampire in the throne room, looked closely at the doctor in front of him. The latter nodded slightly anxiously and looked around. "Miss Swan has lost a lot of blood, but nothing that can't be fixed with a blood infusion and bed rest." His voice trembled slightly, however, he did better than the Kings had expected.

Nodding, Aro looked to Jane. "Inform Demetri about this. He will be at her bedside. Felix escort the doctor out." Both guards stepped forward to follow what they were told to do. "And doctor." The man addressed stopped in the doorway and turned slowly. "Everything you've seen today, you'd better forget." Marcus looked at him, bored. Caius began to grin nastily, "Accidents happen every day!" Aro spread his arms, "And it would be a shame for such talent to go to waste!" Quickly the man nodded, "I was never here!" Satisfied, the kings looked at him. Felix put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him further in the direction of the exit.

"Why didn't he just turn her?" Caius looked questioningly at his brother. "He would have escaped the Cullens and that annoying sister that way. His mate would have no choice but to stay here to get used to her new life." Marcus turned to the blond-haired man. "And that's just it. It would have been forced." Aro nodded. "Our young friend wants his mate to want to walk this path willingly, with him by her side or without him."

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"Demetri?" Jane entered Demetri's room. He was sitting on the floor with his back against his bed where his mate was sleeping. He had drawn his knees to his chest, buried his hands in his hair, and rested his forehead on his knees. At Jane's voice he looked up. "The doctor's gone, he says she'll be fine. She just needs bed rest." Demetri just nodded and laid his head back on his knees. Jane looked down at her teammate and debated with herself. She closed the door and took thoughtful steps toward the bed. Y/N looked pale, but since the second blood infusion, the redness of her skin was slowly working its way back.

The vampire sat down on the floor next to Demetri, which made him look to the side in confusion. "I thought at the beginning that you had gone mad. Fighting so hard for the Swan girl, even though she didn't want you. Letting your heart break over and over again. Now that I see you with her, now that I've seen the way she was in your arms, the way she looked at you, the smile just before she thought she was going to die, just because she could tell you she loved you. Makes me understand why you did it. Why you ran after her and why you didn't want to turn her. I don't understand the soul mates thing, I only have Alec who I trust and I don't think that will ever change. But Demetri, when she wakes up, and she will. Don't let her go again. You both need each other!" Jane looked deep into Demetri's eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. Demetri looked at her gratefully and placed his hand over hers. "I'm scared." Jane nodded. "You two will get through this, and if anything happens, we'll be behind you and her." Demetri smiled.

Jane stood up and headed for the door, but turned back to him. "If you tell anyone what I said here, I will cause you pain that will make you wish you were never born!" Demetri dropped his head back into his neck laughing, "There's the Jane I love!" Briefly her eyes lit up and a smile settled over her mouth. Shortly after, she was gone.

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"You just confirmed what I warned Y/N about!" Bella looked angrily over at Demetri. The latter rolled his eyes, "And that would be?" "You put her in danger!" "She would never have been in danger if she hadn't been alone, and she was only alone because she pushed Demetri away because of you!" Felix laughed in disbelief from what he had just heard. Bella took a step towards the vampire, but Edward grabbed her waist and pulled her back to his chest. "Stop it now Bella!"

"You better listen to your fiancé young girl! It was pure kindness on Demetri's part to inform you of your sister's condition." Aro looked closely at Bella. "Kindness?!" Bella was turning red with anger. "Put a leash on your human before I do something about her!", Caius looked at Bella out of annoyed eyes. Edward tightened his grip around his fiancée. The latter took a deep breath and looked back at Aro. "If Carlisle confirms to us right away that my sister is fit to travel, I will take her back to Forks with me." She turned to Demetri and pointed a finger at him. "And you will stay away from my sister . From this day until her last day." Demetri shook his head. "You will not take her anywhere again. Until she can speak for herself, she stays here. Let Y/N make her own decisions, you've been calling all the shots in her life long enough!" "I only want what's best for her!" "By keeping her away from the one she loves!" Alec raised his eyebrow in amusement. Bella laughed mockingly. "She doesn't love him. My sister could never love a monster!" "Careful! Maybe none of our powers can do anything against you, but we can always hurt you, though! You forget you're still human!" Jane's voice became sharp. But Bella laughed again. "And that proves what I'm saying, you Volturi are nothing more than monsters!"

"The only monster in this room is you Bella."

All at once, everyone's heads turned to the kings. Y/N had entered the throne room through the back entrance. Next to her stood a sad-looking Carlisle. He knew he should not have taken Bella with him, for as the vampire knew Y/N would not return with them, but would remain with Demetri and therefore with the Volturi.

"Sister!" "Mon amour!" Bella and Demetri spoke at the same time. Y/N's gaze moved from her sister to Demetri. The latter looked at her with relief and a little fear, but she did not think twice. As fast as her bare feet could carry her, she ran towards Demetri and jumped into his arms. Relieved, he immediately wrapped his arms around her torso and hugged her to him. As he did so, the vampire closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Aro began to clap and even jumped up and down once. "I think my young Bella, this is answer enough where your sister wants to stay. Isn't it?" Bella shook her head. "Y/N..." Her voice was occupied with bewilderment. Her younger sister separated herself from Demetri and stood up properly. As she did so, she buried her fingers in the fabric of his top, while he placed his hands on her upper arms, where he gently ran them up and down. Y/N accepted this gesture gratefully. Since she had almost fled the room when she saw only Carlisle, she was wearing nothing but underwear and a black nightgown. Lightly she leaned her back against the blond vampire's torso, taking in the warmth of his coat. Demetri who noticed this detached himself from Y/N took off his coat and placed it over his mate's shoulder. Then placed his hands again on her upper arms. Everyone observed the gesture with a smile, except for the Cullen family and Bella.

Bella watched as Y/N gratefully gave Demetri a kiss on the cheek and began shaking her head again. "No!" Confused, everyone looked at her. "You have to choose sister!" Bella emphasized the word 'sister' as if to remind Y/N that they were bound together by blood. "Between what?" Doubting her sister's mental state, Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Either you come back to Forks with me and the Cullens, or you stay here, with Demetri and the Volturi." She paused, put her hands to her chest, and continued talking, "But if you stay here, I will no longer see you as my sist..." Bella hadn't even finished her sentence when Y/N interrupted her. "Demetri and the Volturi." Bella dropped her arms to her side. "What?" "I choose Demetri and the Volturi." She repeated, more slowly so her sister would understand her better. This made every single Volturi grin as they looked at their future new member.

Before Bella could say anything further, Y/N turned her body entirely around to face Demetri. "Can you take me back to our room?" Demetri looked from her to Aro, who nodded with a smile. "Anything Ma princesse, will." In bridal style he picked her up in his arms, not wanting her to walk around in bare feet any longer and catch anything else, made his way past the Cullens. Where Bella realized once again that she had lost her sister to Demetri Volturi. Y/N didn't pay Bella a glance, burying her face in her mate's chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Well Bella that must have backfired!" Laughed Felix, making everyone except the Cullens laugh along with him.

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"Are you sure you made the right decision?" Demetri whispered these words while looking straight ahead and holding his mate securely in his arms at the same time. Confused, she looked up at him. "What do you mean Demetri?" Without saying anything he opened the door of his room, stepped into it, closed his door and carefully put his mate down on his bed. "You should sleep a little more, the doctor and Carlisle are..." , he spoke while walking back to the door. But Y/N jumped up from the bed, dropping the coat from her mate on the floor, closing the distance between them with a few steps and grabbing Demetri's wrist. "Don't do this Demetri." He turned his head around to face her. "Don't do what." "Don't drop me. I won't regret choosing you. I won't miss my sister and the time in her shadow. I won't regret you and my love for you, not today, not in our eternity you promised me Demetri." Carefully she pulled him to her by his wrist. His body turned completely to her, his eyes were filled with fear and yet hope was also hidden in them. Y/N let go of his wrist, took another step towards him and placed her hands on his cheeks, like he always did with her. "I will never forgive myself for how many times I have rejected you for a promise that was unfair to both of us and if you let me, I will try to make this up to you for the rest of our time together." Demetri closed his eyes and leaned more into her touch. "That's a very long time Mon Amour." "That's exactly what I hope!" Smiling, Y/N placed her lips on her mate's. Demetri returned her kiss instantly, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. The kiss quickly turned into a passionate one as Y/N released her hands from his cheeks and let them disappear into Demetri's hair. When they both broke away from each other, their lips hovered just inches apart. "No more running away, no more hiding, I beg you!" Demetri looked at her pleadingly. Gently, she again placed her lips on his. Breaking away from him, she leaned her forehead against his and whispered, "I'm yours Demetri Volturi and I'm not afraid to show it to the daylight anymore!" They both started laughing and kissed again.

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A/N3.0: Thanks for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it and if you think of anything else you want to read, like the wedding of the two or other things write it in my inbox, no matter if my request is closed or not.

@twilightlover2007 @ssnapsaurus @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx @ms-sasa @elissanatok @helen06dreamer @animequeen454 @svtbpbts @alyeskathewave @kezibear @m-ichelles-world @angelsincident @esposadomd @xxxsecuritybreach @a-avengerparker

[grison-in-space]

Currently rereading Eric Flint's 1632 and reflecting on just how influential Flint was to me and my approach to both praxis and politics as a teenager. I found Flint when I was about thirteen or fourteen, around the time I found Pratchett I think, and he's left an equally wide thumbprint on my soul. Isn't that the most wonderful thing about stories, that people you've never met can help shape our adult selves? Mother of Demons I often recommend for its SFF worldbuilding--Flint built a species with at least four genders, only some of which are reproductive, and associated "normal" sexual orientations, and then proceeded to write in a textually intersex character and queer the hell out of it.

1632, though, is the one where a little West Virginia town in 2000 gets picked up and dropped in the middle of Thuringia, Germany in the eponymous year--right in the middle of the Thirty Years War. The local United Mine Workers of America chapter plays a major role, particularly its head.

As I write this I'm listening to the scene where the little town of Grantville, having admitted after a few days that they are probably not ever going home, is crowded into the high school gymnasium listening to the mayor lay that reality out and suggesting an interim council to help the town set out a sort of constitutional convention so they can work out what on earth they're going to do moving forward--especially since there's a bunch of displaced refugees collecting in the forests nearby. Sensible of them, really; the Americans murdered the shit out of the local soldiers that displaced them, on account of how the shaken mine workers that went out to figure out WTF happened not being super down with suddenly running into a bunch of fuckheads raping the locals and torturing people to find out where their valuables might be. After that, said Americans proceeded to retreat into the town boundaries and gibber quietly to themselves. I would go lurk in their woods, too.

Anyway, the mayor sets up this proposal, everyone agrees, and a CEO who was visiting for his son's wedding at the time steps forward and says: look. I know how to lead, and I'm probably the most qualified person here. I lead a major industry corporation effectively and I did that after my time as a Navy officer. I put myself forward because I'm qualified. Now, we're going to need to circle the wagons to get through the winter, tighten our belts, but we can get through this. We can't support all these refugees, though; we'll have to seal the border so they can't bring disease--they're a drain on our resources we can't afford--

and the UMWA guy, he gets really mad listening to this. There's this Sephardic refugee woman he's real taken with who got swept up in the town first thing, and she's sitting in and listening; he's thinking about throwing her out, thinking about how much she knows about the place they're found in, and he's furious. But he gets a good grip on his anger and he marches up and he says, look. This dude has been here two days and he's already talking about downsizing?! You're going to listen to this CEO talking about cuts, cuts, cuts? Nah. Trying to circle the wagons is probably impossible, it's stupid, and if you think my men and I are going to enforce that, you can fuck off. That proposal is inside out and bass ackwards. We've got about a six mile diameter of Grantville here; how much food do YOU think we're going to grow? How about the soldiers wandering around, do you think we're going to be able to fight armies off on our lonesome? Look at the few refugees we already have in the room, they'll tell you how those armies will treat you! We could do it for a while, the amount of gun nuts here, but so what? We don't have enough people to shoot them! Not if we're going to do anything else to keep us going! We have about six months of stockpiled coal to keep going, and without another source or getting the coal mines working, we're screwed. We have technical strength but we don't have the supplies or resources we would need to maintain it. Those refugees? They're resources. We need people to do the work we will need to keep ourselves. The hell with downsizing; let's grow outwards! Bring people in, give them safety, see what they can bring to the table once they've had a moment! He invokes: send us your tired, your poor!, and the CEO yells in frustration: this isn't America! so he yells back "it will be!"

And of course everyone cheers. I love Flint for many reasons but he is unapologetic about affection for the America of ideals--ideals, he freely admits, that are often honored in the breach rather than the observance, ideals that are messy and flawed, but nevertheless ideals that can work to inspire us to become the best version of ourselves. For Flint, history is as valuable as a source of stories to inspire ourselves as it is a repository of knowledge, and on this I tend to agree with him. We must learn from our moments of shame but equally we must learn from moments that show us how to be our best selves.

It's been twenty three years and the text is now an interesting historical document in its own right, hitting points and rhythms in beats that are sometimes out of place today. It's not perfect. But the novel contains a commitment to joy and to emphasizing the leaps of faith and understanding that regular, everyday people make every day to try and support each other that I routinely try to match in my writing.

Anyway, one of the strengths of the novel, I think, is its gender politics: it's a very ensemble kind of novel, lots of characters, and it's preoccupied with positive masculinity in a lot of ways. There's a lot of these hyper masculine characters--Mike Stearns perhaps more than anyone else--and--and...

... And Flint's characterization of Stearns, as he sketches out who the man is--his pivotal American leader, ex boxer, working class organizer, big man.... well, it lands equally on "he is delighted and astonished to find a local woman who quickly assesses how the cushion of air in tires works," and "he considers who to set up a Jewish refugee in the middle of Germany up with and he thinks to ask the Jewish family he grew up with to host her and her ill father because he thinks she'll be most comfortable there", and "he views people as potential assets rather than potential drains." A younger man asks him for advice on whether to pursue a professional sports career because of the boxing and he says no, you're in the worst place of not being quite good enough and you'll blow out your knees without accomplishing safety. He frames that interaction such that he allows his own experiences to make him vulnerable and invite the younger man to understand when a struggle have worth it.

It's actually a really deft portrayal of intense masculinity that also makes a virtue of a bunch of traits more usually associated with women: empathy, relational sensitivity, the ability to listen. As a blueprint for what a positive masculinity can look like, vs the toxic kind, it's very well done. I think sometimes when we look at gender roles in terms of virtues, and when masculinity is defined in terms of opposition to femininity, people get lost by arguing that virtues assigned to one gender are somehow antithetical to another gender. In fact that's never been the case: virtues are wholly neutral and can appear in any gender. What the gender does is inflect the ways we expect that virtue to appear in terms of individuals' actions within their society.

Gender isn't purely an individual trait, basically; it's a product of our collective associations. Two characters with different genders can display the same virtues and strengths, but we imagine them expressed in different ways according to our cultural expectations around gender. And I just think that's neat.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part four

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 3.2k (3285)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part five!

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

Micheal had left the house a few hours earlier, at the first light of dawn: accompanied by two huge suitcases and a train ticket purchased shortly before, he had simply hugged you before leaving for the next few days. Not a word, not a whisper. Just a hug, one of those that touch your soul without you being able to defend yourself

And so, hours after he was gone, you found yourself thinking about how two simple hugs had brought you back to life after months of suffering. The heat of the midday sun filtered through the window, warming your skin slightly, but it was not comparable to the warmth that last night's hug had caused you: Kaiser's problem, or luck, was that he knew exactly how to use words, and, accompanied by his arms tightened around you, the result had been the current confusion in your head. This morning's one had been lighter, perhaps even hasty, but in the same way it had caused a knot in your stomach that after hours and hours still hadn't gone away

What was going on between you and Kaiser?

What happened to the relationship you had before he first walked into that hotel room?

What was happening to you?

You had thought for years that that crush you had on him as a teenager was gone, but now, back in the same house together, you were really revaluating your latest life choices. In a corner of your mind, you wondered what would have changed if instead of dating Gabriel you had stayed in Germany with Kaiser, maybe dating him

If instead of letting everything disappear naturally you had declared yourself, perhaps you would have been together for a few years now. He would obviously have continued with soccer, he would have traveled all over the world as he did but with you at his side, always ready to cheer him on while you would have concentrated on the world of fashion, perhaps becoming a model in this possible universe too. You would spend the nights loving each other and during the day you would simply make it obvious how much you cared for each other. You would simply have been a couple, one of those that perhaps doesn't even destroy destiny even if he tried hard

But that other universe did not exist. There was only and exclusively the universe in which you let yourself be destroyed by someone who actually never really cared about you. There was only the universe where Y/n and Kaiser were always one step away from each other, but never attached

The mattress buckles slightly under your movement as you reach for the remote control on the nightstand. Turn on the television by switching on the channel dedicated to live national matches, where in the pre-match scenes you notice Kaiser appearing training with Ness

You set the nightstand down, turning up the volume as you get out of bed, resting your bare feet on the cold floor. With the comments of the commentator announcing that the match will start soon, you begin to observe the room: it hasn't changed since you were there, the only changes are some prizes including cups and medals placed on the shelves. You sigh, deciding that watching Kaiser's successes now, while your suitcase is still full, isn't the best option

You sit on the floor, starting to take out the few clothes you brought with you. After dividing the clothes into categories you stand up, walking towards a drawer, precisely the lower one

The drawer is practically empty, so you start putting your clothes in there while distractedly listening to the commentator's comments. Without doing so voluntarily, your hands move deeper into the drawer, where they find something hard. You return to reality for a moment due to the unexpected contact, feeling better the material that looks like a metal box

"What will it be...?" you ask to yourself as you take out the box, which weighs more than expected

You look at the object, ask yourself what is inside since due to its weight it must necessarily contain something. You know very well that peeking into other people's things is not polite, and you have never done it in your life. But the more you look at the box, the more something tells you you should open it. Fucking your manners for a moment, you head towards the living room of the house, heading towards the sofa where you sit placing the box on your lap. A little hesitantly, you open the box still feeling anxious that maybe you really shouldn't and put it where it was

But by now, you've opened it

A myriad of letters emerge from the bottom of the box, and so seeing them you could say that there are at least a hundred. A little unsure you grab one, where you read the sender in elegant handwriting that you recognize immediately

— From Kaiser. To Ness

Berlin, autumn

The dates are not specified, but you are amazed to find something like this. A letter for Ness? Why would Kaiser write him a letter? How long ago is it?. You don't know if you should read it or not, but you've already done the damage so you might as well continue

— From Kaiser. To Ness

Berlin, autumn

I seriously can't believe I have to write you a fucking letter. What is happening in Hamburg that has caused the internet to be missing for a month now? Really Ness, you're weird, but the town where you're from is even weirder. Since the situation can no longer be updated via normal messages (and above all because the situation itself is becoming unmanageable for me) I had to resort to this method which honestly makes me feel like an old man from the 1800s writing to his lover so as not to get caught by his wife. I know you didn't laugh, or maybe you did, but in case you didn't I don't care because Y/n would have laughed and that's what matters. Bastard Munchen hasn't been training much lately, maybe it's because half the team is back home for the holidays. I would have liked to return to house too, but seeing my father after a long time wouldn't have given me much pleasure. Returning to the main topic, the situation has degenerated more than I thought. I last saw her on wednesday, and holy shit, seeing her cry was horrible. I hate having to leave her again every time, I really wish I could go back to the time when her brother coached the team and she was always around. It was nice, even though she and I weren't friends at the time. On wednesday I was about to hold her and ask her to come live with me, but how the fuck was I going to tell her? "Hey hi, every time I leave I feel like I want to die, don't you want to come and live with me?" hell no. I know well that the house isn't entirely mine yet and that I still have to sign a few contracts, but by now it should be legally mine before the end of the month. And when it's actually my house, the first room I decide on will be the one where she will stay if I ever ask her and if she ever comes to live with me. Really Ness, it's strange to feel something like that for someone I couldn't even stand until a few years ago. Seeing her after weeks or months without meeting is beautiful every time, and I should seriously stop being like that because I don't recognize myself either. It's as if every time she cheers for me during the matches (you should have seen how excited she was at monday's match!) it's as if I have to prove myself to her as being even better than I already am. Yes, the situation is definitely more desperate and out of control than I thought. I've thought a lot during this time and every now and then I seriously wonder if I should just stop being like this or if I should come out and simply hope for the best answer. But a possible no? Hell, it would ruin everything I currently care most. Hurry up and find a cell phone and an internet line where you can write to me because really, I hate writing letters

Kaiser Micheal

— From Kaiser. To Ness

Berlin, winter

I wonder how it is possible to completely change my opinion in a short time about a day that I have always hated. Y/n decided to spend Christmas at my house this year, instead of making me come to Hamburg like I usually do since we stay apart. Celebrating Christmas with her has always been quite pleasant, her family and especially her brother love me quite well and they don't mind spending such an important day with me. But on the one hand, they are unaware of how much it bothers me that they wish me a happy birthday, because in addition to being Christmas it's also my fucking birthday. I know they don't do it voluntarily, but it bothers me that I can hardly handle. Y/n never wishes me a happy birthday because she knows I hate it, oh god she's perfect. This year was our first Christmas alone, just me and her in the new house; she came saying that being together during this day could be a way to inaugurate the house, which has been mine for a short time now. We were on the couch pretty much the whole time, eating junk that my diet would abolish without a second thought. But you know what? Honestly I don't care much, seeing her laugh while eating candy was quite enjoyable. I don't think I've had such a great day in a long time, but do you know what specifically happened that changed my opinion about my birthday? By mistake, before locking herself in her room to sleep (she stayed until the 29th, she left just before New Year's Eve so she slept at home for almost a week. When I showed her the room I chose for her, obviously hiding the fact that I hoped she would come to live with me, she was happy) she said "happy birthday, Mihya" to me and immediately apologised. But from her, it didn't bother me... it's strange, because I've always hated my birthday. She continued to apologize for at least a full minute, and trust me Ness, I was seriously on the verge of shutting her up by kissing her. Her wishes, somehow, seem more beautiful. When we went to sleep, each in our own rooms, I was awake for at least 2 hours just thinking that SHE was in MY HOUSE in the room ATTACHED to mine. I should seriously consider visiting a psychologist... my God, I should get myself hospitalized because this is not the Kaiser I know. How long will you stay in Hamburg? I hate writing to you

Kaiser Micheal

— From Kaiser. To Ness

Napoli, summer

I don't remember why for every letter I sent you I made a copy that I kept. The last one was more than a year and a half ago, and what's more I had forgotten about this exchange of letters that we had had for a while. But now, with the current situation, obviously I have to update you because, even if it kind of bothers me to admit it, you are the only one who knows how I feel about her, I would have preferred her to understand it honestly. Today Y/n called me, I'm in Italy for special training and the call cost me a few cents, but I don't care. She was a little agitated, and I didn't understand why her voice seemed more shaky than usual. She told me that her brother received a promotion in Denmark, and that her family will be leaving in less than three weeks. I have to admit, the world fell on me a bit when she told me: the mere fact of not being able to see her daily or monthly weighs on me, but not even seeing her for years? Hell, no. And so I told her, Ness. I asked her to come and live with me in Berlin... and she said yes. She said she will catch the first plane next week and when I get home she will already be here. It will no longer be my home, but our home. Hell, it sounds like a pre-marriage course that I wouldn't mind doing with her though. I think I was more afraid of asking her this than of letting Bastard Munchen lose in the last game. Every now and then I seriously wonder if I should honestly just come out and let her decide; don't get me wrong, I would hope for a positive response, but just letting go of this boulder that I've been carrying on my shoulders for at least 3 or 4 years would be enough. I think hiding the fact that I love her is becoming too complicated, and imagine how the situation will get worse once she lives with me. I would simply like to have less paranoia and let myself go, but I prefer to live in doubt if the other option is to lose her. Shit I don't even know what I just said. I often go to the sea during breaks, here in Naples it's nice and Italy isn't as cold as Germany. I swim often, and every now and then when I pop out of the water after going underwater, I swear I see her on the beach. Every now and then I imagine myself being with her, kissing her, just knowing that she loves me. Am I a weirdo? Probably

Kaiser Micheal

— From Kaiser. To Ness

Berlin, spring

It's been just over a month since she went to Italy. Her room hasn't been opened since she left, and I don't plan on doing so until she gets back, because she will. I know that the relationship won't last, that shitty Italian promises her the world but won't give her anything. And when she comes back, I will declare myself, and finally the boulder I carry on my shoulders will go away. At first, a few months ago, I thought she was joking when she said she was seeing someone: not that I believed her, she's a nice and pretty girl, but with someone other than me? God, I'm thankful I knew how to pretend because I would have risked making an unnecessary scene. When she told me she was leaving I was dead inside, and I'm dead inside now too. Did you notice how many times the coach sent me to the bench during practice? I don't blame him honestly, furthermore he said that if I continue like this I might not even show up for the next match. I hate myself for loving her and her for being so lovable!... it's not true, probably loving her and being able to get to know her better is one of the few graces that this shitty life has given me. I wonder if there is a universe where she loves me, where she knows how much she actually mean it to me. One where, as soon as I get home from training, she come up to me wanting to kiss me. One where I attend all her shows and where she knows I'm her number one fan in everything. One where she becomes my wife one day after I promised her that I would give my all just to make her happy. One where I simply declared myself as soon as she went to Hamburg, when we were both 19

Maybe in another universe, Y/n?

Kaiser Micheal

Your hands tremble as you finish reading the fourth letter; wthout you noticing, small tears roll down your cheeks, leaving an annoying wet sensation. You look at the papers, and for the first time since you met Kaiser, you feel like you never really understood him. These letters could even be from 5 years ago, and you have known him for 10 years! How is it possible that in all this time you haven't really understood what was hidden behind that smile you adore so much?

“…Maybe in another universe, Y/n?” reread cautiously, and it's as if a cold shower runs down your body, giving you a sudden feeling of cold

Kaiser loves you, or rather, you don't know if he still does now. Micheal spent years thinking what you're thinking now, where do you imagine yourself dating him instead of that asshole. Kaiser simply saw the girl he loved pass before his eyes, without being able to stop her and tell him what he really felt. Knowing that you hurt him in some way is a wound that becomes more and more painful as the minutes pass. How could you be so damn blind to the person you claimed to know more than yourself?

Still with trembling hands you place the last letter read next to you, on the sofa cushion. You grab the box, ignoring the other letters that you honestly just want to read anymore, and find something at the bottom: three photographs, a small plushie and a small writing on a piece of paper which now seems ruined due time

You look at the first photograph: the Bastard Munchen team smiles in front of the campus training field. Your brother is at one hundred, you next to him between a player you don't recognize and Ness. Kaiser is a little further away, the only one not smiling in the photo. The date at the bottom of the photograph marks the period in which your brother had just obtained the position, so you were 16 at the time. This is probably the first photo of you two together

Now you look at the second photograph: you were a little older here, probably 17 or 18 years old, sitting on the benches in the field. You greeted the person behind the camera, who you remember was Ness. In one corner, you can see Kaiser training but looking at you. A note behind the photograph reads "Even when you were stupid you were cute"

The third photograph however is from a few years later: the stadium is celebrating, you are hugging Kaiser who has one hand on your hip and the other is busy holding a large cup. You both smile, you even have a few tears in your eyes. Another note at the bottom of the photo says "You were the most important thing even in that moment"

You recognize the stuffed animal as one that you left at his house, by mistake, when you moved to Italy. A small stray dog, blond in color and with blue eyes with a cerulean and red collar. You had called him Mihya, because he reminded you terribly of Micheal. The note was old, but you recognized your handwriting: "Always your number one fan, remember that! ♡". You remembered giving it to him after the same game in the third photo, but you thought he had thrown it away some time ago

You observe everything still trembling, while the tears continue to flow without a brake. Kaiser had been, or still was, in love with you. Perhaps the situation was even more complex than it already was before, and perhaps you didn't really know the Michael you considered your best friend

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#374

“Hey!  Midnight bathroom run too?  Yeah.  I knew I shouldn’t have let my wife’s mother book this tiny inn in the middle of nowhere Germany for my honeymoon.  I live in a three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan two blocks from Central Park, and now I have to share a toilet.  I would gladly pay for a suite at a five-star hotel, but my wife likes it.  Whoever came up with “Happy wife happy life” should be shot.  "This jet lag sucks.  This is my second night here in Europe, and I haven’t shaken it.  How about you?...  You’re here a week?  Wow.  It looks like we will be competing for the toilet for a number of days.  It’s us and him in there.  That Argentinian has been in there for a bit.  I see the toothbrush in your hand; when he comes out, you can go ahead of me, as long as you are fast; I’m going to be spending some time in there.  It seems that the only way I can get to sleep is to enjoy my left hand….

“I see you smiling.  You know what I’m talking about….  Don’t be shy about it.  All guys do it.

“And the best part is as I get close, I turn on the bidet and let the warm water run across my shithole.  It’s not quite like a tongue diving in deep.  I haven’t had my ass eaten out in years….

“…You a faggot?...  Your silence makes me wonder that you might be, but your dick tenting in your robe tells me everything.  Open your robe and let me see….

“Just as I thought.  You want help me go to sleep?  Good.  Let’s go in your room.  You can brush your teeth afterwards and wash away the taste of my shithole….

“Now we are behind closed doors, you can lose the robe….  Damn you are a small fag.  How tall are you?...  I have a foot on you; I’m 6’5”.  How much do you weigh?...  I’m 290, twice your weight.  You are the size of the faggots I used to use back in grad school at Columbia.  I like them small.  I hope you like to be manhandled.  Don’t care if you don’t.

“Get on your knees fag.  Go on reach in.  Take my cock out.  Even soft, I’m bigger than your tiny four-inch pecker.  Hard, I more than double you. 

“It’s clear that there is only one man in this room, and it ain’t you.  There is only one cock in this room; yours is to be ignored.  You got that?...  Fag, you got that?...

“That’s ‘Yes Sir.’  I saw the hunger on your face in the hall when I mentioned that I loved a tongue in my shithole.  I’ve noticed the few times you’ve been checking me out as our paths crossed.  It’s the same hunger I saw on my bitch boys I used on the side when I was in grad school.  They saw a big man with a big dick, and they did whatever I wanted.  I see that hunger on your face now, and I’m expecting the same from you. 

“You drink piss….  That wasn’t a question.  Open your toilet mouth….  Take my head in.  Fuck yeah.  Relax and start swallowing….  Ahh, that feels so good.  You are a natural. 

“Is your cunt cleaned out?  Probably not.  If you can handle my cock in your throat, I’ll be back tomorrow night to sample that cunt.  Here sit on the floor with your head against the wall. 

“I want to tell you how to get me to cum.  Like I said, I was going to use the bidet to not only to clean my shithole but to make my hole feel good.  Your tongue is taking over that responsibility. 

“I haven’t had a shower since this morning, and I’ve been out all day in the sun.  My crack is going to reek.  I know you won’t mind. 

“Place a hand on each of my thighs.  Take a deep breath.  Now pay attention.  Your tongue needs to be inside my shithole pretty much all the time….  Like that.  Fuck yeah.  Don’t be alarmed if I fart on your faggot face.  It’s bound to happen. 

“Damn!  Fuck!  Your tongue is digging deep.  Faggot you know how to eat a man’s shithole.  Oh man.  I’m getting close.  But I need to sample that throat. 

“Fuck.  Hold that faggot head against the wall and open up that throat, cause I’m going right down to your stomach, all nine inches to the root. 

“Take it faggot!  Take it!  I don’t care if you gag, gasp, or even puke all over me, you are fucking taking it.  Open up that throat, dedicate that airway to me.  Oh fuck.  That’s it faggot. 

“When I’m ready to cum, it’s with your tongue in my shithole, and I want you jacking me off.  And I’m getting close.  Oh yeah!  I’m going to turn around real fast.  So close.  Hell the fuck yeah.  Get that tongue ready.  Ready?  Now!

“…Spread my cheeks and get that tongue inside me and start fucking with it.  Now reach under me and jack me off.  Fuck boy.  I’m going to cum.  Keep doing what you are doing.  Urg!  Uh!  Uh!  Fuck!  Fuck yeah!

“Oh man.  No one told you to stop.  Keep tongue fucking and jacking me.  Milk the last drops out and let them fall. 

“Faggot you did good.  I’m want to do this every night….  Ok… Ok… You can stop. 

“Whew boy.  Hand me my underwear.  And your pillow too.  The pillow is to wipe up your throat slime and remaining cum drops from my dick.  The other side is to wipe my ass.  When you go to sleep, you can smell me. 

“Whew, that was a huge load on the floor.  Start licking….  Don’t give me that look again, or I will smack you again.  That load puddled on your floor should be gold to you.  Lap it up or suck it up, I don’t care.

“Hell, you can even jack off while doing that, once I’m gone.  I don’t care. 

“You want me to come back tomorrow night?...  Good, then do as you are told.  Atta boy!  Do you have any plans for tomorrow during the day?...  You can go to a museum another day. 

“You’re doing good boy.  While you continue to lick my load, pay attention to what I have to say.  In the morning, my wife and I are heading to some castle.  Before we leave, I am going to slip an envelope under the door.  It’ll have €1500.  We are about an hour and a half from Berlin.  I want you to go there, find one of the sex shops.  I want you to purchase a bunch of items. 

“First, I want a rimseat.  You know how to eat my shithole, and you will do it again.  Find a chastity cage and have them put it on you.  Have them put the key in the same envelope and seal it.  Have them write their store’s name across the back of it.  I want that cage to be tight and most importantly, I want it to prevent an erection, not one that pushes the cage forward should that tiny thing start to grow.  Ideally I don’t want to see any bump from your tiny pecker.  You got that?  I want a collar, ankle cuffs, and wrist cuffs.  Buy about 10 meters of rope and some padlocks.  Get lube.  And I don’t know how you are going to do this but get something to clean you out.  And see if they sell teeth guards; I felt some teeth when I was in your throat.

“At midnight, keep your door unlocked.  Be wearing the collar and the cuffs.  And get a good hood and wear it.  Leather can be expensive.  I’ll bump that up to €2000 in the envelope.  If there’s money left, get me a flogger. 

“You got all that?...  Good boy. 

“Where’s your phone?  Here it is.  Good an iPhone.  Look up.  Good it unlocked.  Get back to the floor.  I’m putting my side cell number in here.  I am listing myself as ‘SIR’.  I want you to text me when you buy each item.  And have the store worker take pics of you being fitted for the cage and anything else they care to.  And if they want to use you, you will let them.

“I’m going to add you to my find my iPhone app, so I can track where you are.  So I know what text you are, what’s your area code or country code?...  215?...  Philadelphia?...  Oh boy.  My firm has me in Philly one week a month and a weekend in between.  I have an apartment near Rittenhouse square.  You perform well here, and I will be taking you on permanently. 

“Keep licking boy.  Don’t get up until every drop is in your belly.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  I need to get back to my wife.”

[k-s-morgan]

"many people insist he was in the Blitz ( I don't mean fics, I don't mind that, I mean in canon discussions) so my post was specifically for the Blitz. For the 40's bomb, that you brought up, not my post, Tom left soon after, 7 days after. And as for the '44 bombings- Tom has already killed 4 people by that time- FOUR. I think it's safe to say death and suffering of the people around him wasn't one of his concerns.

Tom's fear of death doesn't have to come from bombing. Plenty of people fear death that had never been bombed. It is stated that his fear of death is because he thinks himself above all humans, it's in relation to his power, he says this to Dumbledore at 11 BEFORE ww2 started. He already said 'mom can't have been a witch because she died'. But yes, this post was about Dumbledore not sending Tom into the Blitz, like many people say, as if Dumbledore personally delivered Tom to the Nazis."

What do you think about this argument? I've written fics of Tom witnessing the Blitz. I thought that it was canon but I have had people argue that it is not. What do you think?

Hi! That's a really interesting topic, but one I came to dislike because it feels like most people have very black-and-white takes on it. I actually got involved in one of such conversations just recently. Maybe even the one you quoted from? I don't recall at this point.

Since I prepared a lot of materials for ATLWETD before writing it, I can give you a full answer supported by the research and some news clippings. It's going to get long, though!

So, first - the Blitz. Indeed, Tom never had to face it. It lasted from September 7, 1940 to May 11, 1941, and Tom spent this period at Hogwarts. However, the Blitz was neither the start nor the end of London bombings - and bombings of the surrounding areas and UK in general.

Citing from Mark Clapson, "Air Raids in Britain, 1940–45":

"A common misconception of the Blitz in the United Kingdom is that London was the only city under attack from September 1940 until the Nazis also turned their fire on other cities and towns in mid-November. Yet even before the Blitz on London began, other urban areas in the UK had been attacked from the air.

As the Battle of Britain drew towards a defeat for Germany, the first significant raid on a major British city took place in Cardiff and Newport on 10 July when over seventy German planes attacked the South Wales docks. In July and August, Birmingham, Coventry, Hastings, Liverpool, Newcastle and Southampton were all subject to air raids, signifying that when the main Blitz on the provinces began, industrial and coastal towns and cities were going to be key targets for the Luftwaffe … As Tony Mason shows, the first raid on Coventry had been on 18 August 1940, when both industry and housing were bombed."

Most of these locations are within the 200-300 km of London. Hastings is less than a 2-hour drive away. People don't live in a bubble, so hearing and reading about the bombings getting closer had to be terrifying for a child-Tom.

Now, getting even closer to London. The timeline taken from this website:

"16 AUGUST 1940

A series of raids were leveled against Norfolk, Kent and the Greater London area with airfields as the main targets, including Manston.

London suburbs were bombed, including Wimbledon and Esher, where shops and houses were hit. Bombs on Maiden, Surrey, railway station killed staff and passengers and put both lines out of operation. To the north, Gravesend and Tilbury were attacked, and bombs fell on Harwell and Farnborough aerodromes."

Tom would have definitely experienced the impacts of these bombings at least in some ways because the sound of explosions travels miles ahead. People would be in an increased state of panic, not knowing if London was going to be the next target any other second now.

A photo of the news clipping from August 17, 1940, titled: Germans Bomb London Suburbs:

From this website:

"A still earlier, and better recorded, raid took place the night before, on 15 August. 30 bombers targeted RAF Croydon aerodrome, which was then considered part of Surrey rather than London. Several people were killed, with damage to the aerodrome and nearby housing."

The distance between Croydon aerodrome and London is just 10 miles. Again, this is something the impact of which Tom would have very likely heard personally - add to this the feeling of fear and uncertainty over when and where the next attack is coming, and you get a recipe for a serious psychological trauma. Tom was only 13 at this time.

From the same website:

"Many sources state that the first bombs to drop on London landed in the early hours of 22 August 1940, affecting Harrow and Wealdstone (technically not then in London, but within the London Civil Defence Area). These caused damage to two cinemas, a dance hall, bank and houses, but nobody was killed. A further strike on 24 August [in London] killed nine people, and prompted retaliatory attacks on Berlin."

So, by these accounts, Tom experienced the bombing of his city directly at least once and likely heard the impact of bombings from the suburbs at least twice. Could be more - there were several bombings close, and we have no idea where Tom was in those specific moments. He could be taking a walk to the West End, going to the suburbs with his orphanage, and so on.

He was lucky to miss the bombings that followed (until 1944), including the Blitz, but I really hate when people dismiss the psychological impact of seeing your city in ruins, witnessing the massive destruction, and not knowing whether the bombs are going to drop again today. It's not like the Germans announced, "Hey, the Blitz is over, you're safe now!" Of course Tom thought he might experience another bombing, and of course this thought scared him.

The summer of 1944 was terrible for London because that's when the V1 were dropped. Quoting from The Blitz Companion by Mark Clapson again:

"Yet during the summer of 1944 worse was to come, and it would manifest itself in a frightening new weapon. For some months rumours had been circulating in Britain about a flying bomb that had no pilot and which could be guided almost mysteriously through the air at great speed to attack the capital city. This was the V1, the ‘V’ standing for vengeance … The V1s killed over 5,000 people and injured 15,000."

The timeline for these attacks is here.

This one is trickier, though, because based on Harry's era, by 1944, Tom already came of age by wizarding standards. So there is an argument that he could finally use his magic and leave London. On the other hand, he was still a minor by Muggle standards, and we have no idea what Hogwarts rules and laws of his era stated - meaning that it can all be up to interpretation.

For those who prefer to imagine that Tom was there: maybe back in 1944, a wizard had to be 18 to be considered an adult, and the limit was dropped closer to Harry's era. Or there was a rule stating that Hogwarts students must continue to live in their assigned places up until they graduate, especially in a Muggle world - because if a minor disappears from Muggle care when they are still enrolled in a magical school, it could trigger the involvement of authorities, which might be something Hogwarts would want to avoid.

We can't make strong arguments here because the canon says nothing about these details. So, if someone wants to imagine that Tom missed the bombings in 1944, there are very logical reasons to support such a view, but if someone wants him to have experienced it, it's also easy to imagine.

Either way, whether Tom lived only through the bombings of 1940 or both 1940 and 1944, to deny that he was affected by the war is to reject the most basic human psychology, in my opinion. Anyone would be terrified when they are surrounded by destruction and death, when they are confronted with the idea of their own mortality and when they feel helplessly trapped. And Tom saw the war horrors every summer even when there were no bombings.

I'm a war victim myself, and I don't feel safe on the days my city is not attacked. Because I know that the situation can change every other second. The psychological effect of bombings is devastating even when you aren't physically affected.

Does Tom's trauma justify his canon actions in any way, though? Of course not. Did his war trauma cause his fear of death? I think it was definitely at least some part of it. How couldn't it be? It's exactly because he considered himself above others is that his fear could be this amplified. He probably hated sitting stuck in a dangerous zone with the people he despised, threatened by the beings he didn't consider proper humans.

Maybe the war didn't give birth to Tom's fear of death, but I think it obviously contributed to it heavily since, again, he was living in one of the very targeted places, and he lived through at least one London bombing.

Also, yes, I do think Dumbledore and Dippet were absolutely abhorrent for sending an orphan child to a war zone when it was so easy to give him shelter. They were responsible for Tom's well-fare, and this responsibility shouldn't disappear in the summer. Tom could have easily been killed - again, it's not like the Germans announced when they were going to bomb or not bomb London and other areas. Letting him stay at Hogwarts or finding some family to take him in - or an inn! - would have been beyond simple.

Dumbledore also definitely knew Tom is related to a Slytherin bloodline, so there had to be families willing to take him in for this alone. Sure, it could be dangerous in other ways for a child as self-focused as Tom, but he was still a child, and his safety had to come first.

Finally, there is an argument that Tom was moved along with other children from London since it was supposed to be mandatory. This is also something that can be looked at from different angles. The reality of people following a law always differs from the theory of it. There were many issues with evacuations at that time. About 7,736 children died in London from the Blitz alone - not everyone could evacuate, especially the poor. Maybe the Wool's lucked out, maybe not. There are claims that only children within the ages of 5 to 14 were evacuated. But also, if Tom was moved, then there is no telling if he was more or less safe there since the location is unknown. It once again depends on what a specific person wants to imagine as a part of his life.

Now, anon, as for your fics in particular: if you wrote about Tom witnessing the Blitz, it's all right - I mean, the entire universe of Harry Potter is made up. Maybe, in a world where these characters might exist, the Blitz could have happened differently - why not? We have no idea about the dates of HP canon-Blitz. The events there don't have to take place in our specific world.

So, strictly speaking - yes, it's not canon, but more in relation to our world than to the world of HP.

[getinthecar-elizabeth]

Title: Bébé Mbappe?

Pairing: Kylian x wife!reader

Summary: you get a surprise before you and Kylian move to Spain.

NB: This takes place before Kylian's presentation at Madrid.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The day of departure to Spain was fast approaching. Kylian's friends had thrown him a farewell party. It was rowdy and filled with all types of celebrities, models and social media personalities.

However, the family decided to throw another, more intimate party with close family and friends. Your mother and younger sister would also be there, as this was not only Kylian's farewell but yours as well.

Kylian had gone out in the morning for breakfast with Hakimi and a couple of other friends he hadn't seen in a while. He wanted you to come with him, but you insisted he make the most of the little time he had left with his friends.

You hadn't been feeling like yourself for the past few days. You were more tired than usual. Even Kylian noticed, but you just credited it to the stress of moving. In addition, you were feeling rather nauseous and your breasts were extremely tender and sensitive. They usually felt like this during your period or ovulation, but this time, they were way too sensitive.

While putting away clean laundry, your phone pinged with a notification. You picked it up from the bed and unlocked it. Your eyes bulged when you read the notification. It was from your period calendar app.

The notification read, "Your period is 10 days late."

"10 days?" you thought. The app was not always accurate, sometimes being off by 2 or 3 days, but never 10. Your heart rate increased at the possibility of what this could mean. You went through the calendar and checked the last time you and Kylian were intimate. It was 5 weeks ago, just before he left for Germany for the Euros.

You took a moment to calm yourself down. "Okay, think... Pregnancy test," you snapped your fingers.

You hurried to the bathroom and rummaged through the cabinets, searching for the pregnancy test your mother-in-law had bought for you the previous year. She was convinced you were pregnant and had bought you four tests, only to later realize that you had gotten sick from drinking orange-flavoured soda. You hadn't touched the tests since then. Thankfully, you had only used one test and had three spares.

You took the first test, and it came out positive. You then took another one, and it also came out positive. You sat on the bathroom floor with your hands on your face.

It's not that you were not happy, but right now was not the best time for a baby. With the move to Spain, you planned to focus all your energy on helping Kylian settle in.

You thought about Kylian. How would he take this? You had agreed to wait a little longer before extending your family. And it was your desire for your child to be born in France, your home.

Could you even move over there anymore? Your entire support system was here. With your first baby, you would need all the help you could get. And you knew Kylian wanted to be present for something as big as this. You were conflicted.

"Chérie!" You heard Kylian call for you from the living room.

You quickly got off the floor and hid the tests. You were not going to worry about this for now. You wanted your husband's last moments at home to be memorable.

"Bébé," he called again, this time in the bedroom.

"I'm here amour," you walked out of the bathroom.

"You're doing laundry?" He looked at the clothes on the bed.

"Yeah. I'm almost done."

He pulled you towards him by your hand, and his other one rested on your waist. "Leave it, bébé. I want to spend a bit of time with you before we leave for the party."

The party was going to be held at his mother's house.

"Okay," you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

He noticed the grim look on your face. "Everything okay, amour?" He brought your hand, which he held, to his lips and kissed your knuckles.

"Yeah. It's just that we're getting closer and closer to leaving, and I'm going to miss everyone," you shrugged.

Kylian knew that you were a creature of habit. You liked being in familiar places and around familiar people, and you didn't like going out much. This move was a lot for you, but he was glad that you were going with him. In a whole new country, he needed a sense of familiarity, and you were exactly that, so he understood how you felt.

"It's okay, chérie. This is a big change for us both, and I'm glad you're coming with me," he said as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna let you go over there alone and let those Spanish girls steal you. No way," you rolled your eyes but smiled.

He chuckled. "No one could ever steal me from you. You know my heart beats for you alone," he said as he held your palm against his chest so you could feel his heart beating.

'That's about to change,' you thought.

You ordered pizza and watched TV before getting ready for the party. On the way to Fayza's house, Kylian noticed that you seemed distant. He figured you might be feeling a bit sad because it would be the last time you would see a lot of people for a while.

The party went well. You shed a few tears during the speeches. You completely broke down when you saw your mother and sister. You thought it was just the hormones making you more emotional, but then again, you were saying goodbye to everyone you loved, so you guessed it was understandable.

People bought gifts, and although you didn't think it was necessary, you appreciated the gesture.

When you got back home, you were tired, so you left the gifts in the car, intending to bring them in the next morning.

You and Kylian were in bed with the lights off, but you couldn't stop thinking about what you found out earlier.

You turned to face Kylian, who was lying on his stomach. You always envied how comfortably he could sleep like that, while you never could - your stomach would start hurting after a while.

In the midst of the darkness, you blurted out, "I'm pregnant." You held your breath, thinking Kylian was sleeping and probably didn't hear you.

However, he raised his head to look at you in the dark. He then switched on the bedside lamp and sat up against the headboard. You got up and copied his actions.

"Quoi (what)?" He looked at you with wide eyes.

You gulped. "I'm pregnant," you repeated.

Kylian stared unmoving. Shock was evident on his face. This is it; he is going to blow a gasket, you thought.

"Vraiment (really)?" he asked.

You nodded your head. "Oui."

"C'est super (that's great)!" he exclaimed, showering your face with a thousand kisses.

Relief washed over you "You're not upset?" you questioned.

"Why would I be upset, amour? We're having a baby," he laughed. "Are you not happy?" He looked at you, worried.

"Of course, I am. I thought maybe with the move and everything..." you trailed off.

He shrugged, "Well, sure this changes a few things, but we'll figure it out. And I will take good care of you. I'll make sure you have the best doctor in Spain..." he rambled.

"I hear you, but you know I wanted our baby to be born here, in our home country," you reminded him.

"That can be arranged. We have 9 months to figure things out. And we can come back when the time for you to give birth arrives,"

"Okay," you smiled.

"You know what? This calls for a celebration," he sat up on his knees.

"Mon mari, it's late though. We can celebrate tomorrow," you whined.

"Don't worry, we don't need to leave the bed for this kind of celebration," he took off his shirt and threw it somewhere in the room.

"What?" You gave him a confused look.

Kylian wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. Then it clicked.

"Oh no..."

But he pulled you towards him by your legs and you found yourself lying on your back.

"Kylian," you giggled as he pulled off your pyjama pants. "This is exactly how I got pregnant," you stated.

"I know," he said with a grin.

He lowered his body onto yours, planting his forearms on either side of your head. His lips hovered just above yours, and then, he kissed you.

The rest, as they say, is history.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

[sunlightandsuffering]

HALLOWEENERY

   I’m, like, 85% sure my neighbor/roommate is a supernatural creature, even though they technically shouldn’t exist.

Mikasa isn’t 100 % sure that her next-door neighbour is a vampire…but she’s pretty sure, like 99%. 

What an absurd suggestion one might say, in fact even Sasha, resident Halloween lover had balked at the idea. 

“Mikasa, you’re being ridiculous he’s not a vampire, he probably just works nights or something.” Sure… sure…

But since the day she first met him, Mikasa has kept a meticulous log of their every interaction, every thump from his apartment, every time she heard his keys jingle in the lock. And never once has she heard him during the day, not ever. Sure, the log had started out a little more subconscious than anything, he was hot, the kind of handsome that girls dreamed of, the stuff of daydreams and fantasies. How could she not keep a mental catalogue of every time she saw him? 

But now, nearly a year later, as Halloween creeps closer, Mikasa has come to the disturbing realization that her next-door neighbour is most certainly a vampire. 

Eren Jaeger. Even his name sounds a little vampiric, old, imposing, and vaguely German!? 

Vampires were supposed to be from Romania! Romania and Germany were pretty close, it’s basically proof! And then there were his looks, there was just no way a guy like him wasn’t a supernatural creature, there’s simply no way a human being could be that handsome. He’s like her walking fantasy, dark brown hair framing his pretty face, that strong jawline, and those eyes, god those eyes, she could spend hours cataloguing every shade of green in those eyes. But forget his looks, the most damning evidence was the fact that she had never, not once seen him in the daylight. 

And she had sure fucking tried. Mikasa had tried to orchestrate several daylight meet-cutes, it was actually what had clued her into his possible vampirism in the first place.

She’d knocked, left cupcakes, hell, she’d even started a fire (she’d gotten in major trouble with her landlord for that one) and all to no avail, not even the blare of the fire alarm had gotten him out of his apartment during the daylight. 

All of this to say, Mikasa is pretty sure Eren Jaeger is a vampire. 

Is it weird that she finds it kind of hot, in a very non-twilight sort of way. She doesn’t want to be cliché about it, but she wouldn’t mind if he sucked her blood. 

And today, well today Mikasa is going to find out for sure. It is the middle of the day. Noon, as sunny as it can get for a brisk October, the sun shining gloomily over the clouds, turning her apartment bright in the sort of hazy grey way only October can truly accomplish. 

Mikasa is wearing nothing but a towel, naked as the day she was born, hair soaked, just a little bit of waterproof mascara, and standing outside her apartment balcony freezing her ass off. 

She’s locked herself out accidentally on purpose, but whatever, hypothermia is worth it. 

She needs to prove to Sasha, herself even, that her neighbour really is a vampire. She has it on good authority that he hasn’t left the apartment since last night either, she’d made sure by camping out next to her door all night just to be sure. It’s now or never. Carefully, and with very frozen fingers because yeah it might be sunny, but it’s October, and it shows, Mikasa climbs over the railing separating her and Eren’s balcony. 

The view of his apartment through the sliding glass door is unhelpfully blocked by large blackout curtains, and Mikasa scowls. But oh well, one point for the vampire theory. 

Then, Mikasa knocks. 

Once. Twice. Three times, four times

By the eleventh knock, Mikasa is starting to realize the flaw in her meticulously laid plans. The flaw is that if Eren really is a vampire he will not be coming outside for the life of him and as the temperature dips lower, the wind blowing the clouds high above her to block out the sun, she realizes very quickly she really could get hypothermia. Shit. 

Her knocks begin to get a little more frantic now, tinged with the reality that’s setting in. 

She is locked out of her apartment, on her neighbour’s balcony wearing nothing but a towel and about to freeze her ass off. 

She infinitely regrets shaving this morning, her legs are delightfully smooth, soft to the touch but chilled to the bone.

The wet hair, she thinks as she slams her fist into the glass pane was a particularly painful touch, crispy now as it freezes over into icicle shaped points. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She doesn’t even have her phone. She’s a fucking nursing student, she’s usually not this stupid. Mikasa blames Eren entirely, or maybe Sasha for hyping her up so much about proving Eren is in fact a vampire. With one more slam of her fist against the window, Mikasa, fingers numb to the pain now, knuckles bruising without colour because all the blood is leaving her extremities, she is finally saved. The door opens with savagery, curtains pulling back to reveal a very angry, very hot and thoroughly disgruntled neighbour. He looks surprised to see its her, and then as he takes in the full state of her undress, his eyes widen impossibly and the next thing she knows she’s being yanked into the delicious warmth of his apartment. “Mikasa what the fuck?” Her teeth are chattering too much for her to respond, and before she can really think about it, her traitorous heat-seeking body is seeking out the first source of warmth it can find, and it just so happens to be Eren. 

Her arms are wound around his neck like an Octopus, her face tucked into his chest and she sighs in audible relief because he is so fucking warm. He is so, so warm, the heat is heavenly, she can barely think, plastering herself against him, and all the movement has her towel slipping and Mikasa doesn’t even mind, barely even notices. All she can think about is how warm he is, delirium setting in as she burrows closer, inhaling the scent of clean mint and laundry detergent, her face nuzzled against the soft cotton of his shirt. His heart pounds in her ear, pumping blood through his veins with the sole purpose of warming her up, and after a moment his hands are winding around her hips a little awkwardly to tug her closer. “You’re fucking freezing,” He mumbles, hands rubbing circles over her hips as if to rub the feeling back into her, and she pushes closer, craving the contact, her breasts squished against him deliciously. He’s so beautifully warm!

His hands knead over her ass, and she sighs in delight because she can actually feel it now, feeling slowly returning to her chilled limbs. 

Her toes aren’t quite there yet, but wow his hand on her ass sure is nice, feels really good and oh… wait why is his hand on her bare ass? Mikasa realizes the gravity of the situation about five seconds after Eren has the generous curve of her ass cupped in his hands, kneading the flesh with the kind of single-minded determination she would find hot if she wasn’t so horrified. 

His heartbeat is steady against her ear, thump, thump, thump, and the second realization that sets in is almost as bad as the first one. Eren is not in fact a vampire. 

He is very much alive. And very much feeling her up in his living room, because she’d thrown herself at him, completely naked and slightly hypothermic. This is somehow worse than being trapped out on the balcony. Her discomfort must be palpable, her form going stiff and Eren chuckles from above her, the rich timbre vibrating over her whole body deliciously, “You want me to let go yet?” “No,” Mikasa mumbles into his chest, “If you let go you’ll be able to see everything.” She can feel him fighting a smile above her and he gives her ass an affectionate squeeze that has her breath stuttering, “Mikasa, I’ll be a gentleman of course, but I’d like to remind you I can already feel everything sweetheart.” 

She would very much like to die now. “It feels really good if it makes you feel any better,” Eren tells her in amusement and she sighs, unlacing her fingers from where they’re locked around his back and slowly taking a step back, “It doesn’t.” “I won’t look, I promise,” Eren tells her and sure enough as she pulls from his grasp his eyes are shut tight, no peaking at all. 

Mikasa chooses to grab a fluffy looking throw blanket from his couch instead of her wet towel, situating herself on the couch and far from his grasp as she covers up. “I would very much like to look though,” Eren adds conversationally as he listens to her throw the blanket over herself, “So much.” She tamps down her glee, answering him instead, “I’m decent.” His eyes open, green as the trees outside, and he fucking pouts as he takes her in, tucked under a blanket on his couch, “I liked you better naked.” 

At this, Mikasa can’t fight her smile, clutching the blanket a little closer, “Sorry.” Eren sighs, before leaning back on his heels, arms crossed, “Me too, but are you going to tell me why exactly you were on my balcony naked?” Mikasa winces, “I locked myself out?” She hates that it comes out as a question. 

“Naked?” Eren demands, aghast. 

“I umm was just checking out the view.” “You’re unhinged,” He tells her candidly and Mikasa slumps into the couch, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I umm I guess you can stay here until the super gets back, he’s usually around at night.” “Thanks,” Mikasa tells him awkwardly, unsure how to conduct herself now, he was feeling her up not a minute ago where are they supposed to go from here?

Eren looks just as unsure, lip bitten between his teeth and looking her over like he wants to eat her up. 

“So umm what were you doing?” Mikasa asks, because damn it if she’s not going to get an answer. “Sleeping,” Eren responds calmly, and very much not like a vampire trying to hide their biggest secret. “Why?”

Eren looks her over suspiciously, before responding, breaking Mikasa’s sweet little heart into a thousand pieces and proving Sasha correct, “I work nights.” FUCK! 

“So you’re not like a vampire then?” Mikasa clarifies, as if this makes all the sense in the world. Eren does look at her strangely for a moment before shrugging, “No, I’m not a vampire, although I could see where you’d get the impression from.” Mikasa pouts, how disheartening, hypothermia for nothing. “I just work night shifts usually at the hospital I’m a nurse too, I’m a year ahead of you though, I’m doing my practicum right now.” “Oh,” Mikasa murmurs and Eren chuckles, “I should actually really get back to bed to be honest.” Mikasa nods awkwardly as Eren trudges towards his bedroom. He gives her one last curious look backwards as he opens up his bedroom door, “You coming neighbour?” Fuck yes she is. That’s how Mikasa ends up sleeping with her not-vampire neighbour, strictly platonic of course, she was still a little hypothermic he was just warm. 

If there was some platonic touching who is to say, some groping, well no one needs to know. 

It was all just to get her nice and warm again, and as a student nurse she knows it’s important sometimes that happen from the inside out. 

[iloveelvisss]

Little Sister Pt. 2

1957-

Four years had passed since Elvis had kissed you.

Shortly after, you started a secret relationship, not knowing how everyone would react. Only recently had you revealed yourselves to your families. Everyone seemed to be okay with it.. except Mary.

You were now sat with Elvis in his bedroom at Graceland, comforting him as he reread his draft notice for the sixth time. Tears were staining both of your cheeks. You didn't want him to leave, couldn't bear the idea of life here without him. He didn't want to go either, his whole life was here, you were here.

But he went on anyway. You clung to him the day he left, refusing to let him go.

He had spent maybe two weeks at boot camp when Gladys passed. Elvis came rushing home almost immediately. For three days straight he held onto you, crying. Then he was abruptly pulled back to finish his six weeks of boot camp, before being shipped off to Germany for two years. You stayed true to him out of all of it though, holding onto the promise he gave you before his departure, "wait for me, 'little'. I'll come back for ya."

And for a while he kept that promise. You received letters from him weekly, each expressing how dearly he loved and missed you. He would send little trinkets and call you every chance he got. But then those phone calls became fewer, along with the letters and trinkets.

At first you played it off by convincing yourself that he was busy, and that he would make it up to you when he had time. Eventually though, it stopped completely, and you were devastated.

You waited for him, hoping for any sign from him, but after weeks and weeks of nothing you couldn't stand it anymore.

A year passed since he left and you had gotten a job as a makeup artist. You worked on the set of a couple movies.

**

Somewhere along the way, you remembered that your ex boyfriend Charlie lived in Los Angeles. You managed to get ahold of him.

You were now sat waiting in a little restaurant. When Charlie walked in you instantly recognized him. He had grown a lot since the last time you saw him.

You stood up as he walked in your direction, waving him over. "Charlie, hi! How are you?" You asked. He scanned your figure, meeting your eyes. "Wow, Y/N, it's so good to see ya. I'm doing well now, and you?" He reached out to pull you into a hug. He smelled nice.

Then you two talked for hours. You told him about your job and asked about his. He listened intently as you caught him up on your life, his face always adorned with a smile, it was refreshing. He was the first real friend you had in L.A.

"So you really dated Elvis?" He asked, sounding like a genuine question. You nodded, trying to ignore how your heart tugged at the sound of his name. "Wow, I remember him always being around when we were together back then. Doesn't surprise me that you two became something." Charlie said.

You stared at your empty plate, "It surprised me. I was always just a little sister to him," you paused as you chuckled. "He called me his 'little' ever since he met me." You mumbled, looking back up.

"I mean he was always very protective, like I said, but it was in a different way." Charlie averted his eyes as he looked deep in thought about something. "Like this one time when you and I first started going steady, Elvis was at your place, and he took me aside and made me promise that I'd always be good to you. Said that if I ever hurt you that he wouldn't let me see another day."

Charlie's words shocked you a bit. Before that afternoon in the ice cream shop, it had never even crossed your mind that Elvis had any feelings for you, except for the type that a big brother would.

You forced yourself to push it aside. Elvis was gone, he obviously didn't want anything to do with you now, so why should you waste your time with thoughts about him?

Charlie offered to drive you home. His physical appearance might've changed but he was still the same sweet boy you fell for all those years ago.

With the promise of another date, he dropped you off.

For the first time in almost a year you fell asleep excited for the day ahead. Weeks passed with you getting closer and closer to Charlie. He would swing by whatever movie you were working on and visit you on set, and he would take you out to dinner every chance he got. It didn't surprise you when he got down on one knee after the third month of going steady with you. You smiled as you said yes, feeling confused when he picked you up and Elvis's face flashed in your mind.

You called your parents that night. "Momma, daddy, I got something to tell you," you tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I'm gettin married!" You exclaimed while you stared at the rock resting on your finger. They seemed just as elated, congratulating you repeatedly.

"What's going on?" Mary's voice came from somewhere in the background of the call. "Your sister is engaged! Isn't it wonderful?" Your momma replied for you. "Oh, isn't that grand? Can I talk to her?" Mary asked.

You listened to the ruffling sound as the phone was passed to your sister. "Hey, Y/N. I'm happy for you." She said, taking you for a loop. "Ya mean it?" Silence.

She cleared her throat, "yeah, yeah.. of course I do. Little Charlie is a lucky guy." She chuckled slightly, causing you to do the same after a second. "Aw I'm glad you think so. I love you Mary."

"I love you too, good night." Then she hung up.

1960-

It had been four months since you had gotten engaged to Charlie. Life was going good for you.

You were going in for your first day on a new movie. All you knew was that it was called G.I. Blues. You were excited to finally get to see some new faces on the lot and you were hoping to make some friends along the way.

As you were setting out your makeup supplies, you heard the door to the trailer open. "Hi there! I'll be ready shortly, just take a seat," you called out to whoever walked in, but you were met with complete silence. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned to greet the mystery person, you couldn't believe what you were met with.

"Elvis.."

You felt as if you were going to pass out. The two of you just stood there in silence, staring at one another.

After what felt like hours, he took a small step forward, causing you backup. "Y/N, I-"

"Last calls! Filming begins in fifteen minutes!"

You were yanked from your trance. You cleared your throat, gesturing towards the seat he was to sit in, as you turned back to your makeup supplies.

"This shouldn't take long, take your seat so I can get this over with." The time of shock had glossed over, and now you were hit with your feelings of anger and betrayal. You didn't even want to look at him, let alone act like you knew him. He made it clear when he left you stranded that the two of you were nothing but strangers.

You worked silently, trying to keep yourself from touching him.

"What's his name?" He asked. You glanced down to see him staring at the ring on your finger. Your heart dropped. "Charlie." You stated in a barely audible whisper.

Elvis opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off, "I'm done, you can go."

But he didn't move. He sat there staring at you, his eyes swirling with sadness. "Fine, if you won't go, I will." You huffed angrily, throwing down your brush and storming out of the trailer.

The minute the door closed behind you it felt as if you could breathe again. A weight lifted from your heart.

Realizing that he would see you standing there when he came out of the trailer, you walked away. You found yourself in the costume department. There was a nice girl there who you had talked to on past movies so you stayed with her until you knew it was safe to return to your stuff.

You did what you had to do before leaving, not wanting to linger and risk the chance of Elvis seeking you out again.

Everyday for a week straight, he would come in to get his makeup done, try and get you to talk to him, watch as you stormed off, and curse himself for ever hurting you. He didn't know why he did what he did, there really was no explanation for it. He was stupid and lonely, seeking solace in anyone he could get it from. He felt guilty for straying so he stopped talking to you instead of expressing his problems to you in fear of breaking your heart. He thought that sparing you the knowledge of how he was living in Germany would be better than losing you, except now he had lost you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered one day. You rolled your eyes, "imagine that." You scoffed, moving your brush over his face a bit more aggressively than normal. He paid no mind to your motions though, staring forward with sad eyes.

He looked worn down, dark bags underneath his eyes, and he always wore a look of sorrow mixed with regret. A lot different from the first day on set.

You were angry with yourself for caring. You hated how you wanted so desperately to reach out and hold him, to tell him everything was going to be okay and that you loved him. You didn't want to love him, you wanted to hate him for what he did to you, but you simply couldn't.

"Y/N, I really am sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but know that I hate myself for all of it." He said. You didn't respond, finishing the last bit of makeup on him.

It had become routine for you to abandon your stuff and retreat back to the costume department with Angela. Today was different though, you leaned against the counter with your arms folded across your chest. "Why?" You fought back the tears that threatened to spill at just the thought of how he abandoned you. "Why didn't you say anything? Why just leave me all alone?"

"I don't know. I was a dumbass and there's no excuse." He responded. "I waited for you, Elvis, just like you asked me to, and you broke my heart!" You yelled, throwing your hands around. His own eyes glossed with tears, "I know, I know. I'm sorry."

You wiped away a loose tear, cursing yourself for letting him see you cry over him. "Sorry really doesn't cut though, does it? You weren't the one left to pick everything up." You gave him one last glare before walking out, slamming the door.

You were packing up to go home when the door opened later, making you jump. You knew who it was before you even turned around. "I need a touch up, we have to reshoot a scene from the beginning and my stuff has wore off." Elvis stated, taking his normal seat.

"Ya know, Charlie mentioned once that when we were teenagers, you threatened him," you watched as his eyes squinted slightly in thought. "Said that you were gonna kill him if he ever hurt your 'little', but that's funny seeing as you hurt me first." You forced out a sarcastic chuckle, making him cringe.

"I want to hate you, Elvis, I really do, but I can't and I hate myself for it." You started tearing up again but quickly blinked them away.

"I thought I was doin' more good than bad back then. I thought I was protecting your feelings." Elvis mumbled, looking into your eyes.

**

In the following weeks, you came up with a sort of truce. It wasn't ever formally stated, but you became less hostile and tried your hardest to understand his perspective.

"What scene are you shooting now?" You asked him as you attempted to apply a tiny bit of eyeliner to his outer corner, he squirmed as you did so. "I'm supposed to sing to a puppet," he said, sounding distraught with the idea, you snorted. "You could come watch?" It was more of a question.

"Hmm.. I'll think about it. Now stop squirming, you're acting like a baby." You said sternly. Elvis blinked, purposefully ruining your progress. You huffed, "Elvis! That wasn't nice!" You shouted, turning to find a wipe. He snickered, obviously proud of himself.

You sighed frustratingly as you tried to salvage some of it. "You've always been that way, you get happy when you make me mad. It's frustrating." You didn't really realize you said it until it was out. You watched as his eyes swirled with the same gleam they did all those years ago at the ice cream parlor.

For a while you stared into each other's eyes, an unspoken something lingering in the air between you two. You cleared your throat, taking a step back. You quickly finished his eyeliner, "all done, get on out there."

I’m posting way too much, but I hope you’ll forgive me and enjoy this anyway🫶🏻