#this is going very deep into my previous fandoms

[lostuntothisworld]

Some Propaganda for my "Adrien has 2 amoks because he is his own dead twin sister" theory

I've mentioned this theory many times before, and have written a proper post about it (linked here) BUT! Season 6 has started to officially air and while we're only 4 (very out of order) episodes deep, I am practically vibrating with the implications.

In summary, my theory is that Emilie created 2 sentikid embryos, and that's why she succumbed to her illness long before Colt did. There's a tragic phenomenon that can happen with a multiple pregnancy called Vanishing Twin. It's where one of the twin embryos miscarries. The twin is usually reabsorbed by the mother or is passed, but the surviving twin embryo can also absorb their twin. This would cause a second phenomenon called Human Chimerism. Adrien's twin sister was created with a separate amok, so Adrien would have 2 amoks, and 2 sets of DNA.

Now, onto season 6's possible foreshadowing below the cut...

First of all, we need to let the cat out of the bag (ha), and talk about the incredible post @bklily wrote linked here. In Werepapas, Adrien is trapped in a trophy (because he is a prize on a pedestal to be won... but that 's not the point of this post), and because the akuma flew into the Twin Rings, Ladybug had to break them. (The fact that they could possibly be fake rings is irrelevant with this point).

While in the trophy, and the rings broken, Adrien, as Schrodinger's Cat, was simultaneously dead and alive. @bklily put it best. "The cat is always dead and alive." Adrien's dead twin sister would be woven into his DNA, and the boy is always going to be dead and alive, no matter what.

Another thing I think is important to point out is that the Twin Rings were emphasized to be TWIN rings multiple times in the episode, in a way that hasn't been done before. According to family tradition, the rings represent a marriage between England and France, and Gabi Grassette/Gabriel Agreste was French, while Emilie Graham de Vanily was English. Of course their twins would be a "marriage" between England and France. The Graham de Vanily twin rings are two rings that become one...

Even an episode that doesn't have focus on Adrien such as Daddycop has implications.

While he is in the process of being akumatized by Chrysalis, Roger is lovingly cradling an INVISIBLE baby girl. It's his precious Sabrina, whom he loves more than anything. My heart skipped a beat when Roger called the way Sabrina was treated a "'MISCARRIAGE' of justice!" Because in order for Adrien to be his own twin sister, there has to be a miscarriage, and Emilie would have had to hold her darling baby boy, while her daughter was invisible.

Adrien, both alive and dead... with two sets of DNA, both male and female. Twins that become one... Which brings me to my next point: Mylene's Progress Pride pin.

I mentioned it in a previous post (linked here), but this pin includes the almost always forgotten/ignored/left out intersex symbol (a purple RING on a yellow background). It's a tiny detail that has major ramifications for my theory.

You see, Adrien has 2 amoks, and if my theory is correct, 2 sets of DNA, both male and female. This is an intersex condition that is rare, but DOES exit in real life. While Adrien was created by magic, he would have a condition that does occur in the real world. Intersex characters are exceedingly rare in fiction, and it's even rarer that they have an intersex condition that actually happens in real life.

As for the reasons that I think Adrien's twin was created to be female, I feel like it's pretty self explanatory, but I will explain my reasoning.

There is a definitive femininity to Adrien. From the fact that not so insignificant portion of the fandom thinks he could be a trans girl or nonbinary, to the show sticking him in a dress and called him a princess, to the way he's been conditioned by his parents in a way that is very relatable to girls. Too emotional, too innocent and needs to be sheltered, valued for his beauty and not for his considerable smarts, and locked in a "Princess tower" for most of his childhood.

The Portuguese dub even has Marinette's grandma Gina call Adrien "handsome as a princess" in Weredads. While the jury is still out that the English and French dubs will keep that line, I am willing to bet that they will.

I would also like to point out that within the Resistance, Adrien is Comrade Mayo, while Ivan is Comrade Aioli. Both are very similar sauces that are often confused with one another. We know from the Miraculous Secrets card game that Ivan has a baby sister whom he adores. He loves her so much, that his Alliance Ring shows a little baby girl during the finale when he and everyone else were suffering from nightmares. Ivan's particular nightmare seems to be one of abandonment, which is also one of Adrien's big fears other than being trapped.

Kind of a contradiction there, with Adrien being afraid of abandonment but also of being trapped.... ah anyway.

In an interview, Astruc and the other writers said that Ivan has issues, and we'll find out about them in future seasons. I'm willing to put money that his abandonment issues stem from something with his baby sister. How can a baby girl abandon a teenage brother? I'm not sure what the writers would intend for Ivan and his baby sister, but I do know the angle they could potentially put for Adrien's abandonment issues and his possible dead twin sister.

I'm sure there are other reasons that I've missed so feel free to add them! I'm so excited for season 6, and possible future posts expanding on this theory propaganda!

[aretrothing]

thanks for the tag!!

rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same

not sure i have five to tag: @sillylovcsongs @fleetn-crab85 @brainless-tin-box and anyone else who wants to have a go

Tag game!!

I was tagged by @lindsayelizabethdenton 🤍

Rules: make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite!

I’m tagging @aretrothing @havinoops @jailesbleu @owlslyingdown and anyone else who wants to have a go (I don’t think I have five mutuals who haven’t already done this 😭😂)

[ferryfoam]

He has no idea he's like a daughter to me. My middle aged male daughter

ASIT is making me real sad and lately I have been spending every waking hour thinking about nothing but Elim Garak

I have also been reading this wonderful fic by Cucumbermoon and it is making me sadder but it's beautifully written and very good https://archiveofourown.org/works/30310065 I am very enthusiastic to read the sequel once I am finished (it is possibly correlated to the fact I am menstruating as of current but I cried multiple times while reading so. Really good!!!)

[binomech]

some opinions on fanfic trends for Disco Elysium on AO3 for the past 2-ish years; i address racism, ableism, jean and kim tropes, accesorization of harry and the way the game themes appear to have warped.

some of you may know i've been reading every fic published on the disco AO3 tag chronologically since 2019 for a little over a year and jotting down some trends (not a proper statistical study, just some tracking of when certain tropes are introduced and when and how they reproduce because i like observing that kind of thing.) there's been an uptick in trans(masc) Kim and Jean character studies since late 2022-early 2023, among many others, but these ones were like overwhelmingly prolific once they were introduced.

harry, kim and jean are overwhelmingly the characters with most fanworks in the tag. and having read a little over 4k works it turns out that people engage in a very distinct way with them for the most part that tracks with the growth of the trans Kim and Jean character studies as a trend.

the disco elysium fandom's english-language writers are, according to my cursory snooping, overwhelmingly trans, some flavor of gay, white and from north america and western europe. given personal anecdotes, i also suspect they are upper middle class (though not as statistically huge as the previous things) and struggle with mental health. in the past decade or so a lot of fanworks have followed a trend of exploration focused on catharsis and personal relatability.

now, kim and harry appear so much in the text with so much detail that there's plenty of personal details to pull from to write them, where as jean's total presence in the game (rarely achieved in one run but i'm taking into account all his mentions and lines) is smaller so it follows that people need to fill in some gaps and there's more characterization freedom. jean is white, younger than both harry and kim, canonically depressed, non-canonically confirmed by his character player an amphetamine addict but presented as a functional person during the game, and covers a very specific narrative hinge that i understand as relevant: he's a bridge between pre-Martinaise Harry and his Martinaise self.

he's objectively a very comfortable character to play with because he's mostly a blank slate except for his relation to Harry and his vitriolic grief towards him. so logistically i understand why people who struggle with mental health, are white, are anywhere between 17 and 35, are functional and able-bodied and may or may not have a complicated relationship with a close person who struggles with addiction or other health issues might go "YES, GOOD CATHARSIS NARRATIVE FOR ME". but the sheer amount of works that value Relatability over engaging with the characters or the themes has resulted in a very strong ripple. which leads to trans kim.

the game paints a deep and vivid image of kim, both from within harry's own perspectives and the objective things he says out loud. he's a walking contradiction, he's alienated from his body and selfhood, he beat himself into submission to stay alive. he's a walking reminder of his assasinated communist parents, the people who killed them paid his salary, his body (racialized, disabled) is both a hindrance to his assimilation and a tangible proof that he could have belonged somewhere but doesn't, that no matter what he does it will be considered first. so he watches his words, his movements, his appearance. so he partakes in hypermasculinity. he's canonically gay, mixed race, diasporic seolite, and disabled. and somehow, the only one of this that is recurringly explored in most fanworks is his homosexuality, usually in the form of being a guiding figure to harry or as a Fellow Gay Cop to jean, or eyes, or someone else.

now, we have the trans kim trope. my opinion on the trope isn't relevant to the point i'm trying to make, but i will say i think transmasc kim is something i enjoy in theory, i think it's a worthy exploration that works very well with the hauntings of embodiment and perception that exist in kim's canon self. but it's very jarring when all of these tales of gay trans kim refuse to engage with race, or with physical disability. like, after you've read 800 trans kim fics you start noticing how solid that avoidance is, how big the elephant in the room is, and i can't help but think that, coupled with the explorations of Jean, the issue is: the white ablebodied writer is unwilling to engage with race and disability.

my charitable reading of this is that the white ablebodied writer doesn't want to write about what they don't know, they don't want to overstep. my neutral reading of this is that the white ablebodied writer doesn't consider how sexuality and gender's material realities are tied to race and ablebodiedness in the real world because they are the Default Categories and it didn't occur to them that kim's experience of them might overlap. my least charitable reading of this without directly falling into the assumption of ill intent is that the white ablebodied writer is uncomfortable with the idea of the fact that their experience of gender and sexuality isn't universal and it's not as emotionally cathartic to think about how they might be racist and ableist because they put on horse blinders and they're trying to write things they like, and understanding this is unpleasant and doesn't belong in their feel-good hobbies.

people love to talk about kim's body without acknowledging the way asian masculinity and femininity exist in relation to whiteness when it's harry or jean in the room. people love to talk about kim's body without engaging with the power relations that exist in many disabled people's sexuality.

the tropes' strength lies in the relatability factor (very high) and the willingness of both author and audience to engage with the canon material for the characters they are writing (very low). and so you end up with a lot of jean character studies about his feelings towards harry (when everyone but kim in the game also knows both harries, but jean is prioritized consistently) and a lot of character studies about kim (that ignore most of the lived experiences of him because they're directly tied to his and his parents' race and alienation that are not particularly cathartic for the white author and reader)

one of the big themes of the game, if not the biggest, is failure. specifically it asks the player to think about what to do when you have failed and you know there are no blank slates, and asks you to empathize not only with harry, whose every thought you're privy to, but to everyone you talk to that has the same rich landscape beyond your brief interaction. when relatability is prioritized in fanworks, this question falls apart, the purpose becomes to find ways in which these characters are like you (the author, the reader) so you can afford them the level of humanity needed to feel emotions about them.

harry's tropification follows four large trends: self-loathing, aggressive addict, psychic omniscient prophet, overwhelmingly emotional and adoring puppy. some authors sometimes are capable of depicting both, usually as if they are unrelated and it's a harry-esque contradiction, but it's truly baffling how rare it is to find stories that engage with all of them or with multiple of them as inextricably bound together like canon material does. harry needs to be relatably lovable (heartbroken, self-loathing, fixable by love, fixable by the universe, capable of change that gets exponentially better) or relatably hateable (physically and emotionally abusive, manipulative, unreasonably needy).

most fics in the relatable lovability fall on the kim/harry ship, most fics in the relatable hateability fall on the jean/harry ship. here's where it ties into the big tropes for kim and jean: the fanworks about a game that asks a question about failure and questioning certainty become stories about inevitability.

jean's vitriol in the game comes from the same place as harry's self loathing: a visceral response to decades of failure. they're not objective truths (i'm thinking about the mirror reveal being intended as a way to make the viewer realize harry isn't a reliable narrator at all, but especially about himself: you see a regular guy, conventionally handsome but clearly in pain and growing old and sick. he calls himself horrible shit, however).

playing up jean's part as the Bridge is comfortable because it allows the player to separate Harry's failures from their agency as a player (something that greatly drives the point of the game home, emotionally speaking -- you're not that different from Harry. Harry's not that different from anyone else he meets. the irreversible failures exist for all of us, as do the chances to try again.) if jean is right in resenting harry, and moreover, he's objectively describing harry's behavior, harry's failures become logical and inevitable consequences of his Way of Being. if Harry calls kim a slur, or threatens children, or scares civilians, that's just because that's how Harry is (according to Jean and Harry's own brain), so the possibility that one of your tries might be meaningfully good becomes... less weighty. it's a fluke, and you'll fail again, so don't get your hopes up. it's almost an excuse to believe that there's nothing new under the sun and going back to old habits is inevitable, but the conclusion becomes "so nothing i do really matters" instead of "it's hard and painful to try again when you've failed so many times before. what does this say about the person who tries?". and in that way jean is an interesting character because understanding why he resents harry for being able to try more freely than him without the weight of memory is important to the theme. what has to click to start climbing out of the grave? can anyone do it? will i ever do it? why now, and why not when i tried to pull him out?

and similarly, when we write about kim, we have to confront what makes him who he is and not another generic character to write, and the fact of the matter is that being a cop, being visibly of seolite heritage, having PTSD, having a visual impairment on record that interferes with his cophood, his cophood being the only identity he appears to have had a choice over, how he treats harry because he's a cop vs. other harry parallels who aren't, how he treats harry whether harry respects him or not... they're important. and trans kim could be a way to approach these themes but it's currently existing in a vacuum of authorial catharsis, and the refusal to address the real politics that give emotional weight to disco elysium is becoming a worrying, overwhelming trend. i urge you all to think about these things a little.

[aydracz]

The GO bench in St James Park has been replaced with a different one

Very sorry to report that the sanded down bench they returned at the original spot in St James Park is actually NOT the OG fandom one.

There are some very prominent features the OG bench had. Most importantly, the shape of the back of the bench, the armrest shape, and the height of the bench itself:

OG bench (pic taken last year):

The new bench, unfortunately, has a different back shape (the tops of the left and right wooden planks at the back):

I did some ineffable detective work in St James Park this weekend of 25th January (with the help of @0xlilith and @fuckyeahgoodomens and @fuzzywhispersbear) and examined all the benches in the near vicinity and subsequently all the benches in the park, in case they just moved it to a different spot. They did not.

I now have a special photo folder in my phone featuring some of the possible candidate benches in St James Park, because that's what you do if you are a GO fan on a trip to London.

All the potential candidate benches that fit the shape criteria didn't meet the "recently cleaned" criterion or the "at least a bit visible carving scars in the right places" criterion.

(A very useful graphics made by @fuckyeahgoodomens)

It is, of course, possible that I am wrong and the bench is there somewhere and has been cleaned so well that not even the carving scars are visible. I just recorded all the Clues as I collected them and this is the logical conclusion:

I think it is realistic to consider that the OG bench was damaged beyond salvation and as such, was removed permanently. I feel like maybe some of the carvings were too deep and beyond repair. I might be wrong, they just might be rotating the benches and our bench is just sitting somewhere in storage, waiting for being cleaned and returned. (It is probably not in different park because all benches have a SJP at the back and I think they make sure to not mix them up).

I, personally, am actually fine with fans writing on the bench. It is within my personal limits of what is OK. But some of the fandom love was maybe too vigorous. And as a whole, I think that this shows us that we might try to treat the new bench with a bit more respect. By refraining from carving in it with a knife. By using plain pencils to write our little notes so that they don't destroy the bench, are easily cleaned and are not visible to regular visitors of the park, only for people who know what they are looking for. Use it as a scavenger hunt place (my personal favourite) to leave little trinkets and gifts for other fans (but hide them well so that they don't visually disturb regular visitors).

I am not openly promoting vandalism here. I am just being realistic and I seriously have nothing but love for the people who left their permanent mark on the bench. (And I would HATE for this post to be used for hating on these fans. Pls don't.) I believe we can find a sweet spot of showing our love for the bois and not damaging the bench beyond salvation.

And I think the management of St James Park is showing us that they are just doing their job and they don't hate us (hopefully).

Why? Because the heart padlock of Aziraphale and Crowley is still there. Someone even added another padlock and a little fly! And these things didn't disappear. I think this hopefully demonstrates that fandom activities in moderation are allowed.

The bench is a symbol of fandom love and as such, I don't think it can be lost. It is what we make it. There is a new lovely bench at the spot and it attracts GO fans just like the previous one did. And while I know many people (including me) will grieve the piece of fandom history that might have been lost, I think that this is an opportunity for a fresh start.

We'll be OK. This place still feels loved.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Testing

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After transferring to the Mid-Wilshire division because of toxic male officers harassing you, you find yourself partnered with Tim Bradford. When you are injured during a Tim Test, you hide the injury so he doesn't think less of you.

Warnings: angst to fluff, misogynistic comments and actions toward reader (from police officers), reader is injured and passes out, Tim is a softie

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: This was such an amazing request!! Tim (and everyone at Mid-Wilshire) would be so welcoming after dealing with something like this, so I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

You knew from the beginning that it would be different for you, that being a female cop would have its pros, cons, and tough moments. What you didn’t expect was the men who were supposed to be your equals harassing you and making each moment far worse than it should have been.

Between the crass comments about how your uniform fit, questioning whether it was your time of the month whenever you tried to stand up for yourself, and their inability to trust you in the field, you learn your place quickly.

“I’d like to request a transfer to a different station,” you tell your commanding officer.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because there is no respect, no trust in this station. Looking over my shoulder while I’m trying to work, and having to defend myself against the very people who are supposed to have my back is exhausting and it makes me unable to do my job.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes as he slides a form to you. “Your decision. Though showing how weak you are by moving around every time things get hard, or your feelings get hurt isn’t plausible.”

“And you had to ask why,” you mutter, snatching the paper off his desk and walking out to fill it out in private.

“Hey, princess, before we leave on patrol I need to know you don’t have your gun at the front of your belt,” someone calls. “Don’t want to risk getting killed by your poor aim.”

You remain silent, which makes them quit or spurs them on to push you further. As if your day isn’t going poorly already, they take your silence as a weakness.

“Just her gun? You should be more worried about how her attitude changes if her bra rides up or her hormones spike,” a second voice adds.

“You’re on your own today,” you reply. “I’m on desk duty.”

“Finally, someone put you where you belong.”

The men laugh as they walk toward their shops, and you take a deep breath as the quiet settles over the station. Once your paperwork is complete, you take it to the captain. You can only hope it goes through quickly before you get fed up and quit forever.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your commanding officer yells your name as you walk in, intercepting you on your way to the locker room. 

“Your transfer just came through, you’re expected at the Mid-Wilshire division for roll call first thing in the morning; today’s PTO while we complete the paperwork,” he informs.

You accept the paper he hands you and pretend not to hear as he adds, “I hope they know what they’re getting into and have the patience to deal with you.”

Smiling as you empty your locker, you hope things are looking up. Although, you know it will be hard to open up to new people and trust new cops, even if they are different than your previous team.

✯✯✯✯✯

Entering the Mid-Wilshire station, you cross your fingers that transferring was the right decision. Sergeant Wade Grey is your new commanding officer, and your day (and your future) relies on this meeting going well.

“Sergeant Grey?” you ask, knocking on his open door.

He looks up, smiling as he beckons you inside. Saying your name, he opens a folder and compliments your arrest record. “I was surprised to hear you asked for a transfer, it seemed like you were doing well at your previous station.”

“The environment was making it difficult to do as well as I know I can, sir,” you answer.

Grey nods. “I can understand that. Our people are good, though, so I expect you will fit in well and succeed in all you do here.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“And you can drop the ‘sir,’ we’re not as formal as some other stations.”

Blinking in surprise, you look away from Wade when another cop enters the small office. 

“Sergeant Bradford, I’d like to introduce you to your new partner. I will warn both of you this is likely a temporary partnership, but one I trust will do you both some good.”

You smile at Bradford, who tilts his head to the side as he looks you over. It’s clear that he isn’t thrilled about having a partner, having grown used to working alone since becoming a sergeant. As long as he doesn’t treat you like a boot, or worse, like a girl who doesn’t have what it takes to be a cop, you can survive working with him for a few weeks.

What you don’t see, though, is that Tim can look at you and tell you’re a good cop. He reviewed your paperwork and arrest record with Wade yesterday, and he’s impressed by you. You’re good, but you have the potential to be better with the right help. And, for some reason, Wade is convinced that Tim can give you the push you need to be your best.

“Okay, let’s go,” Tim says, turning away as Wade tells you to have a good day.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim acknowledges that you’re not a rookie but warns you from the beginning that you still have something to prove.

“I know you’ve been a cop for a while, but I haven’t seen you in action. Your records are admirable, but I need to see proof that you’re still that good,” he explains. “So, I will test you and challenge you while we’re riding together, but don’t view it as starting over, more like proving grounds than qualifications.”

You nod, remembering something Wade muttered about “Tim Tests,” which you’re sure are unique to Bradford.

“I understand. I’ll do my best, and I want to learn to be better.”

Tim doesn’t reply, and you raise your guard, unimpressed with how shut off he is with you. In general, your past has made you wary around men; after Tim’s insistence that you have something to prove, you are determined to hide everything that could be taken as a sign of weakness. You will do whatever it takes to show you are a good cop, worthy of respect.

Slamming on the brakes, Tim yells, “We’re being ambushed; what do you do?”

“Radio for backup, stay in the shop, stay low, and fire only if necessary,” you answer, nearly robotically, as he catches you off guard.

Tim eases back onto the road, ignoring you once again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Just before your scheduled lunch break, something which you haven’t actually enjoyed in far too long, Tim parks between two old warehouses.

“There’s a suspicious package in the gray building, you’re riding alone and need to check it out,” he explains. “Radio any information as you find it.”

You switch your radio to a private channel with Tim, accepting the call as you exit the shop and enter the building. It’s dark and wet, but you refuse to accept any comments or disdainful looks from Tim if you fail this test, so you will find the package and impress him as quickly as possible.

“7-Adam-9, located suspicious package: brown paper bag situated between steel beams,” you radio.

“Dispatch, requesting additional information,” Tim replies.

You sigh, moving forward to look at the bag because you can’t touch it. When you move, the beams sitting upright in the warehouse shift. Stepping back a second too late, one side of the heavy structure hits the back of your shoulder, shoving you forward into the crate holding the package.

Pain radiates through your shoulder as you move to the side, pulling yourself away from the mess you made with a sharp inhale.

“7-Adam-9, false alarm. Suspicious package is empty. Code 4.”

“Copy 7-Adam-9.”

Taking a step toward the door, you hiss in pain as the pain moves from your shoulder around to your ribs, where you fell against the crate. It seems likely that you broke something or at least got a deep bruise, but telling Tim would be like admitting that you’re weak. So, as you level your expression and cover your pain by walking normally, you decide to hide your pain.

Being labeled weak or incapable, or as before, giving Tim a reason to view you as less than is not an option anymore. Buckling your seatbelt, you press your lips together to keep your pained sounds muted, and the feeling of the seat on your shoulder makes you count down the minutes until you can get out of the shop.

✯✯✯✯✯

As the day goes on, your pain grows in intensity. Each breath causes immeasurable pain, and your stomach turns when you move your shoulder in any direction.

“Wade’s going to ask me, so how’s your first day going?” Tim asks, turning down a residential street to respond to a noise disturbance.

“Fine,” you answer quickly, clenching your jaw to stay quiet.

“Good,” he replies, though his voice sounds different. “Glad you found a station that works for you.”

You can’t tell if his comment is passive-aggressive, implying that you are the issue rather than the station you transferred from. The overbearing pain you’re feeling makes it nearly impossible to care.

“You take point on this one,” Tim offers as he parks by the curb.

“Yes, sir.”

Asking questions and explaining the city’s noise ordinances to the tenant, you’re momentarily distracted from your pain. The moment you turn to return to the shop, though, you’re reminded that your new position isn’t quite as enjoyable as you were expecting.

“Take us back to the station,” Tim says, tossing the shop keys to you.

When you raise your hand to catch the keys, your shoulder screams in protest, and you close your eyes momentarily to hide the pain.

“You alright?” Tim asks.

Nodding, you release a sigh when Tim climbs into the passenger seat, too easily convinced by your answer.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a quick meeting with Wade, discussing your new role, and signing a few documents, you head for the locker room. When you pull your shirt off, you glance in the mirror, surprised to see the size and color of the bruise; your entire shoulder, over to your neck and down around the front of your ribs, is a sickening purple. The yellowish tint around the edges is a sign that it will only worsen before it begins to heal. Attempting to raise your arm again, you feel something shift under your skin and step into one of the bathroom stalls, kneeling as you try to keep yourself from being sick. When you lean your head against the metal wall, the coolness is soothing, and as you finally let yourself acknowledge the pain, it becomes all you can feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim opens Wade’s door, furrowing his brows when he sees you’re not there.

“She left a few minutes ago,” Wade answers.

“Her car’s still here.”

“Must be in the locker room then.”

“Why’d she transfer?” Tim asks, stepping inside to close the door.

“I don’t know, Bradford. You’re going to have to ask her.”

Tim nods, turning away to search for you. He knocks on the locker room door, and when no one answers, he opens it and says your name. Once again met with silence, he steps inside and looks around. Your locker is open, but you’re nowhere to be seen. As he rounds the last row of lockers, he sees someone sitting on the floor in one of the bathroom stalls.

Tim says your name, knocking on the door. It opens at his touch, and he catches it before it hits your arm. Kneeling beside you, he looks across your face, pressing his hand behind your neck as he tries to find the source of your unconsciousness. His hand dips to your upper shoulder, and you groan, opening your eyes.

Tim ignores you as you wake, gently leaning you forward as he surveys the bruise where it’s visible past your tank top.

“Stay awake,” he says, moving you again. “Just your shoulder?”

You nod, and he demands to know: “Home or hospital?”

“Home,” you whisper. “But I can-“

“Obviously you can’t,” Tim snaps, his arms gentler than his voice as he lifts you from the ground.

✯✯✯✯✯

You stay conscious, fighting against the pain as you give Tim directions to your home. After getting you inside and as comfortable as possible, he leaves your side to gather a few things before returning. He gives you a glass of water and a few pain reliever pills, waiting until you’ve taken them to lay an ice pack across your shoulder. You take a deep breath at the cold before catching yourself.

“What else hurts?” Tim asks.

“My ribs,” you admit.

He leans you back gently, pushing your tank top to your sternum as he surveys the darkening bruise across your lower ribcage. Gently moving his hand across your skin, he doesn’t feel anything obviously broken, apologizing as you whimper at the pressure. Pulling the first aid kit he brought from your kitchen to his side, he places several cooling packets over your ribs. 

Satisfied that he’s done all he can do for you, Tim moves to sit across from you, making himself comfortable in your living room.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m not leaving,” he answers quickly, “what if you collapse again?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Tim silences, closing his eyes as he leans back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’ve heard that question dozens of times, but previously, it was asked in a much different tone. Always an accusation that you hadn’t handled something correctly or that you should have let someone else do whatever it was that needed to be done. 

When you look back at Tim, his eyes are on you, and you shrug. His eyes narrow as his gaze intensifies, demanding your answer.

“The last station that I worked at made me nervous to tell people things, especially other cops. All of the guys that I worked with harassed me constantly, and they tried to convince me that I wasn’t a good cop because I was a woman. So, I have trouble trusting other police officers with personal things. During your Tim Tests, I thought that if I acknowledged something had happened, you’d see me the same way.”

“Which way?”

“Weak, incapable,” you answer, trailing off.

“They were bad people,” Tim explains. “They may have been okay cops, but no one deserves to be treated like that.”

You nod, licking your lips as your gaze drops to the blanket across your lap.

“Want to tell me what happened today?” he pries.

“The steel beams around the bag?” Tim nods, so you continue, “They fell. One of them hit my shoulder and knocked me forward.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known that would happen. Besides, you helped me. My last partner would have found a way to blame be.”

“Like I said, bad people. But you… you’re a good person and a good cop,” Tim continues. “I’ve known that since you walked in, but I needed to know that you knew. Getting hurt or being unable to do something on the first try doesn’t make you less of a person, or a cop. Being a woman doesn’t either. And if they didn’t see that, it’s their loss.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

“And my gain.”

You furrow your brows at Tim, but he leans back and closes his eyes instead of elaborating.

[queers-gambit]

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[bunny-jpeg]

hiiii bunnnyyyyyy ! i'd like to request for pumpkin pie + vanilla cheesecake + berry trifle, with frozen latte + mint julep + dark roast coffee with max verstappen pleaaaasseeeeee :3

bakery menu!

want to submit an order? hit the menu up! there's tons of stuff to see! i've added new items to the menu to really spice things up! the small staff of bunnies (me) and the servers are here to take your order! don't want to suggest f1, then don't worry! there are tons of other fandoms to choose from! and thank you to this patron for such a lovely order! i see what you're envisioning here with the sub!max trope plus everything else. i hope you love it! enjoy! (also comments, reblogs & tags are greatly appreciated!!)

pumpkin pie ("i've met strays who were more obedient.") + vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + berry trifle ("wrong. try again.") + frozen latte (dumbification) + mint julep (punishments) + dark roast coffee (sub!character)

cw: smut/pwp, sub!max, dom!reader, punishments, dirty talk/degrading language, masturbation, teasing, jerking off, sex toys, mean!reader, filth (!!), mention of oral sex

you weren't with max. in all fairness the idea of being a wag felt a bit... wrong. you weren't the ideal woman for the prestige of formula one. a little rough around the edges. but yet in the sea of models in monaco, max was currently knelt down on the floor of your bedroom with his arms bound behind his back.

painfully panting at the feeling of you on your knees in front of him. stroking his cock. the soft noises from his lips as he tried to buck into your touch, but he knew what would happen if he tried to take more than he was given.

"god max. i've met strays who were more obedient." you sighed as you continued to jerk him off. your smaller hand around his painfully erect cock. the tip of it was almost purple from the blood rush.

it was making everything painfully dizzy for him. his tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he tried to form words. but there was nothing to be said. this was a punishment.

while in all fairness, you couldn't care less what place max came in. you often had the races on when you made breakfast. you knew very clearly that max was the best. but when he came in fourth in the most recent race, just slipping out of the podium. you weren't shocked that he wanted to see you after. flying back home to monaco to see his mistress.

it wasn't about love. after max's previous relationship went south very fast, he yearned for something different. he didn't need arm candy, he needed a woman that'll dip her fingers into the sick desires in his head. mess him up inside and out.

like you were now. jerking him off alongside a toy, keep orgasm just out of reach. you sighed, "where are your manners, verstappen? did you leave them on the track? you didn't even say please or thank you when i invited you into my home." you shook your head.

max dipped his head down and you grabbed him by the face with your free hand, forcing those blue eyes to look at you. he swallowed and felt like he was going to explode.

he swallowed deeply, "i'm sorry, miss. i'm sorry." his voice was tight. he was so painfully desperate. it made something curl in your stomach. it was hot in a way. having him bound like this.

his strong arms behind his back. you often wondered if maybe you should get a collar from that thick neck of his. the thought was amusing as you continued to pleasure him alongside the toy stuck to his cock via medical tape.

you kissed him lazily on the mouth and said, "see. you do know how to be good. but, you need to be better."

he nodded dumbly, "i will. i will." his tongue was loose when he got this deep. when he was using all of his willpower to keep it together. poor, poor max verstappen. needing to be punished for every little mistake.

if you don't do it, then he'll beat himself down to the bone. your time being a dom had led you to understand. that men desperate enough to let go of the control, often had skeletons in their closet.

and you had only scratched the surface in the six months you've been with max. you held his face in your hand and scratched his scalp with the other. it was almost affectionate.

you said lowly, "i need perfection, verstappen. i will not accept anything less. and you know this. i let it slide when you get onto the podium. i am forgiving. but slipping past third is unacceptable."

he nodded, "yes, miss. thank you for your kindness.'

you kissed him softly on the lips. your red lipstick stained the corner of the man's mouth. he whimpered a little and you smiled.

his voice was light as he said, "please, miss. i'm sorry."

you smiled then got onto the couch, which made max whine. but not too much, or else the punishment would be dragged out. you were naked like him and sat down. you got one leg up onto the couch and exposed your wet pussy to max.

you dragged your fingers across your sex before you sank your fingers in. you rubbed your clit a little as you pleasured yourself. you sighed, "you have so much to learn, max. i bet you don't even know how to make a woman cum. you formula boys are all so greedy. take, take, take and hurt whatever woman you want in the process." you shook your head, keeping your composure as you pleasured yourself.

he whined, "not to you. never to you, miss." his voice felt tight. he was starting to lose it. the pleasure was eating his brain and leaving mush behind.

you seemed almost bored, un-amused by max's desperation. leaving him out to dry as he withered against the toy taped to his swollen cock. you said, "right. because you're a good boy, right? well.. good boys get world championships. you're slipping verstappen. what's going to happen if norris or sainz beat you."

he swallowed and squirmed, "I'll do better next time, miss. please."

you felt a flame in your stomach as you pleasured yourself to max's sweet pleas. the promises of being better. to push himself to the next level. and while the games were fun, you could tell that max was getting too far gone. his self control was slipping.

the last thing you needed was a sub off the deep end. this was kink sex, not fucked up therapy. you pulled your fingers out of your sticky cunt then leaned back into the couch to get comfortable. you then said, "cum."

and a moan choked out max's throat. he hunched over and let out a strangled noise as he came all over himself. ropes of cum hit all the way to his chest. he was a sweaty, overstimulated mess. he thought he was going to collapse over himself from the intensity of it all.

you chuckled a little at the suddenness of it. you leaned forward on the couch, your bare cunt exposed to him. your legs spread open as an invitation for him. you took him by the hair of the hair and looked into his eyes. "and how do we thank me for being able to cum?"

he swallowed. those blue eyes gazed up at you, his breath staggering, "trips? money? anything!" he sounded almost desperate. it was a good look on him.

you yanked his hair a little and said, "wrong. try again."

he said, "giving my mistress the pleasure she deserves." before you pulled him right up against your soaked cunt and he got to work. the groan that left his lips as his face collided with your pussy made you shiver.

you had to give max credit. you was determined when it came to repaying what he felt like he owed you. this was not a romantic partnership. but as max looked up at you, his tongue against your sex. you wondered if like most things max did, he was hiding from a truth.

you pulled him closer to your pussy and let him indulge. which only made his cock twitch in alertness. it would be a long night, and you intended to use every moment of it <3

[weirdbookweeb]

Simon (Ghost) Riley NSFW Alphabet

Many thanks to @fictional-loves for the template <3 and obviously, this is NSFW. Proceed as you wish. Reader is fairly genderless throughout the whole thing. Pros of a non-binary author. Lots of love <3 request AUs, Headcanons, Alphabets of any kind for literally any character for any fandom in my inbox. This did involve some very interesting research. Cough cough.

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

He is a snugglebug for a solid 10 minutes after. He's got his arms wrapped around your waist, his face nuzzled in your chest while he's half-asleep. He'll make soft noises and reply gently to you with a soft, grumbly voice that just melts you to the bones. Then after those ten minutes, he gains his composure and cleans up everything, giving you kisses with teasing half-smiles. He then carries you to a bathtub filled with warm water and slides in right behind you to soak both of your aches away.

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

His own switches between his arms and his cock. His likes how strong he is and how big he physically is compared to a lot of other people, you included. His arms are what hold on to you and protect what needs to be protected. And his cock is just something he is really damn proud of cause it makes you feel good.

His favorite things about you are your thighs and your hair. He likes to tangle his fingers in your hair when he's kissing you, and to stroke it when you're resting in his lap, and to just smell the scent of you when he hugs you from behind. Your thighs are his kryptonite, though. The fact that they clench around his head when he's eating you out, or he can grab them as he fuck deeper into you, or that he can fuck them and feel their soft warmth.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

He loves how dirty anything doing with cum can be. Tasting his cum on your lips? Seeing your eyes widen when he tastes yours? Seeing his cum on your pretty skin? Feeling your cum on his face and pelvis? He loves it all. He wears a condom when he's inside of you, but otherwise he wants you to be his canvas and he wants to taste you.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He kind of wants to do something where someone can find you both. Where he has to muffle your sounds and whisper in your ear things that make it hard to not be caught. He thinks it's really hot. He gets hard just thinking about it. He would agree to it immediately if it was brought up, but only if you brought it up.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

He's kind of got experience. He's slept with very few people and done a few vanilla things, but his job usually gets in the way of things. So he know the basics, but not the extremes.

F= Favorite position

Initially upon meeting you, it's missionary because it's how most of his previous sex was done and he really liked seeing your face. Eventually it becomes Breeze because he likes how deep he can penetrate you and can make you gasp for breath.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He's pretty serious. He's the kind of person who would chuckle if something funny did happen, like you both falling on the floor or someone farting, but he'd never go out of his way to make jokes. He's usually so deep in the moment that everything seems erotic unless it's genuinely really funny.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He's neat, but he's not hairless by any means. He's always got a happy trail. It gets a little bit grown out on particularly long deployments (on over a couple of weeks), but never overgrown, unmaintained, and gross.

He also prefers his partners a similar way. Neat, but not hairless. As long as you take care of yourself, he doesn't really care.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

This man is dirty. He swears under his breath when he enters you and talks about how warm and tight you are and cannot shut up about how much he likes fucking up into you. There is no romantic words in his sentences, only dirty promises and sexual gratification. He's gripping you like you're his dark angel bringing him his sinful savior, rough and desperate.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

He masturbates semi-regularly. Every few days, he just kinda gets bored and horny. Passively paws at his dick through his pants as it hardens, teasingly, groaning under his breath before finally slipping his hand under the waistband and taking his cock into his fist with a hiss of pleasure.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

He likes when his back gets all scratched up. Not to the point of bleeding, but angry red marks up and down his back drive him insane. He also loves begging, himself or his partner. He likes being worshipped and worshipping. He also likes wearing his work mask at times.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

He prefers his own bedroom, but he also likes the kitchen. The bedroom is ideal because of comfort, availability, and the fact you can usually be more likely to go to bed right after. But something about how 'public' the kitchen is, and how he can fold you over the counters makes him love it.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

If you tease this man with a gentle carress and a few sexy sentences, he'll be turned on. Hot outfit? Turned on. Particularly proud moment? He wants to fuck you right then and there. He's kind of just turned on by you. He's got self control, but he's also just a man.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Anything to do with non-sexual bodily fluids (scat, piss, blood), multiple people, weapons (knifeplay, gunplay, anything similar), age play, breathplay, and anything that interferes with your ability to consent (CNC, S/A, ETC)

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He is good with both, be he prefers recieving so he can kiss you afterwards. He is incredibly skilled with his tongue and fingers, though. I mean. His ability to give oral is immeasurable. He was a little bit of a rookie when you got together, but he learned quick what you liked.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

He gives it long and hard. He can hold out pretty long (the better part of half an hour). He can range from 15 minutes if he's been built up for a while to over an hour if he's already came and can handle holding out for a while.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

He's not fond of them. He used to do them with one night stands on deployment and they're not exactly his cup of tea anymore. Besides, what's fun in them if he can pull you aside for half an hour, have way more fun and leave you trembling from an orgasm.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

If you bring them up, he’s willing to try a lot of things. But outside of the bedroom, he's pretty shy when talking about sex. You'll have to be the one to talk about things you want to happen. He’s nothing if not a pleaser.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

He can go a few rounds. 3 or 4 with a resting period, maybe more if you give him an hour. He's not exactly 25 anymore. But each round can last around half an hour each, give or take.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

He's got stuff for the both of you. It's no fun otherwise. There's more stuff for you than for him, but there's vibrators, pentration equipment, lubricant (because yes, men and women and everyone in between can use lubricant, be safe), and more. Some stuff is hidden where you can't find it, just in case you get curious and ask one day to try something out.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He is so unfair, but he expects it in return. He is the kind of person to tease you for an hour before you even enter the bedroom.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

He's pretty quiet. He grunts, groans, sighs, and hisses. If he's completely desperate and pushed to the edge, you can pull a whimper out of him, but most of it is breathy and bass-filled. He speaks constantly, telling you praises about your body, noises, feelings, everything.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

This is solely for the femmes and women, sorry mascs and men, but he's got a bit of a mommy kink. If he's feeling a bit pathetic and desperate, he'll whisper out a pathetic "mommy..." and grab you tighter while thrusting into you and biting down into your shoulder.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

(I'm a science girlie in the most ungendered way possible, so I'm not going to say he has a 10 inch cock like I've seen a few people do, that is almost entirely unrealistic, Rasputin.) He's standardly sizable at 6.5 inches erect and 5.5 inches soft. He's circumcised and has a bit of a curve to him.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

Again, he’s pretty easily excitable when it comes to you, but he’s also not 25 anymore. He doesn't have a super high sex drive, but he's definitely willing to do sex. On a scale of 0-10, 0 being absolutely no sex, 10 being horny all the time, he's a solid 6 with a "not horny all the time, but i definitely thing about it and I'm definitely open to it when offered".

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He's got problems sleeping in general so he doesn't sleep afterwards. He'll be tired, but he'll kinda just hang out with you for a bit. If he were to fall asleep, it would rake him a couple hours at least and you'd have to fall asleep first and he'd have to follow a specific routine before falling asleep. Fallback from being in the military and being constantly unsafe made him have a pretty paranoid sleeping routine.

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

15: There She Goes

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: Charles POV, 👀🤭, +18 (will be marked), social media. Violet Sinclair cameo

a/n: HELLO LOVELY PEOPLE!!!!! I hope everyone is having an amazing summer!! Let's see how many of you remembers my other OC hehe

IMPORTANT: If someone wants to give me ideas of names you are very welcome! And ideas for a gender reveal too, I want to make it special and include your ideas!

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

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Every way of feedback is very welcomed

f1_gossip

liked by dafneismymom, pierregasly, dafnenation and 21.478 others

f1_gossip BREAKING NEWS! This morning, an Italian gossip magazine posted pictures of a pair no one imagined could be together. And that pair is Dafne Morelli and Charles Leclerc! They were seen first in Charles' car, both of them so lovey dovey sharing a few kisses and later they were seen walking out of a medical center. 

We never guessed they could be together. What do you guys think?

view all comments

dafneismymom Omfg! There's no way they are dating! They lied to us????

dafnenation I don't think they lied… I bet Ferrari did something, you know how that team is… dafneismymom oooohh yeah, right

ferrari95 But where is she? She disappeared after the last race. She didn't even update her fandom of how she was doing??

f1_gossip the magazine said they were found somewhere in the middle of Tuscany. And that someone anonymous leaked their info

heistupid Paparazzi are so annoying! If they wanted to keep it a secret, it was for something! Why the hell didn't they expose them??

dafnenation Let's hole Dafne is alright, I'm sure she will explain soon.

The day began with a sense of calm. Waking up next to her without fear of her reaction was a relief, a feeling I hadn't experienced.. Then, I saw my kid for the first time and heard the heartbeat. The sound of the heartbeat filled the room with a resonance as profound and moving as a symphony in a grand auditorium. My baby is healthy and beautiful.

But then, those cameras. Those paparazzi.

The smile full of joy and happiness Dafne had the moment we walked out of the medical center, holding the envelope with the gender of our baby and pictures of it, was erased the moment she saw a flash and heard people calling our names. 

The joy that lit up her face vanished, replaced by a look of sheer terror. Seeing that transformation ignited a fire of anger in my veins.

I guided her quickly to the car, making sure they didn't take more pictures of us, and drive away from the village as fast as I could, not caring about speed limits 

“Are you okay?” I asked gently, barely above a whisper, looking through the rear-view mirror, making sure none of those paparazzi followed us with their cars. “Dafne”

“H-How” I heard her mumble, holding my hand tightly.

“I don't know, Daf. I really don't know” I sighed, shaking my head.

When I saw the fences of her property nearby I looked back again, sighing with relief when I didn't find a car behind us. I got out  and opened the gate, going back into the car and driving in.

“Go inside” I told her, squeezing her hand softly, and she only nodded and walked out.

I took a deep breath, pacing around and immediately feeling my phone buzzing.

Seeing Fred's name flash on my screen made me clench my jaw. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before answering.

“Fred-”

“You know where she is and yet you didn't even think about telling me?!” he screamed into the mic, making me frown and pull the phone away from my ear. 

“I can explain, Fred…”

“And you are dating her? Or what?” he groaned. “There are pictures of you two together, of you two kissing in the car. You know you can't date, there's a contract!”

“She can't drive anymore, Fred!” I exclaimed, closing my eyes immediately. “She…”

“She what, Charles” he groaned. “I know nothing about her. She didn't even call me to say she wasn't coming to the company dinner. Didn't even give me an update of her health”

“It's complicated, Fred, more than you know.” I exhaled sharply. “We'll come to Maranello tomorrow and explain everything. Just...trust me.”

“You? What do you have to do in this?” he scoffed. “This is about Dafne”

“And about me” I groaned. “We will go there tomorrow. And after the meeting you can do whatever you want with her seat. But first, listen to her”

“What are you now, her manager?” he laughed. “If I remember well, you two hated each other”

“Well, not anymore” I sighed.

“Whatever. You better have a good explanation” he said.

I ended the call and groaned, looking at how my phone was going crazy with notifications.

Not now. I can't deal with this now. I need to see her.

I walked inside of the house through the front door, finding Dafne sitting on the couch. She was looking at the pictures the doctor gave us, tracing the lines of it with her finger. I saw how she clenched her jaw a few times, how her knee was bouncing up and down, how she played with the ring on her middle finger. 

All the signs of her being anxious. Of an oncoming anxiety attack.

“Hey” I sighed, sitting next to her and placing my hand on her bouncing knee, squeezing it softly and rubbing circles on her skin. “Talk to me, come on”

“How could they find us” she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the image. “Who sent them? Who told them?”

“I don't know, Daf” I said, again. “If I knew, I would make every single person who sent them regret disturbing us”

“Why can't they leave me alone?” she mumbled. “Everyone is asking where I am. Everyone wants to know what I'm doing with my life, shaky I'm not giving signals…”

“Fred called” I said. “He…”

“Let me guess, he saw the pictures and now he's mad”

“Y-yeah” I sighed, looking down. “He saw us together. He thinks we are dating. I told him we are going tomorrow to the factory to explain everything”

I felt how her body shook with a shiver and how she took a deep breath. She can't stress right now, which is not good for the baby. If only I could take all her pain.

“And what do we tell him now?” she sighed. “Its all my fault, Charles”

“Hey, no” I frowned, placing my hand on her cheek and making her look at me. “It's not, Dafne. None of this is your fault”

“I should have told him that I couldn't race a month ago” she whispered. “The moment the doctor told me that I had to stop racing, I should have called him and told him to find another driver. Now it's too late. It's too late and I'm facing the consequences”

“You are not alone in this” I sighed, leaning closer and pressing my forehead against hers. “We are going tomorrow to the factory. We will tell him that we are going to be parents. Let him think whatever he wants, but I won't let him touch you, not even scream to you”

“Charles...” she murmured, her voice wavering with unspoken emotions."

“We will write a statement” I said, slowly. “We will tell everything. Let's be clear about our story. It's their problem if they believe us or not”

“You want to tell them everything?” she asked, with surprise in her voice.

“Everything” I nodded.

She took a deep breath and nodded slowly, leaning closer to me and wrapping her arms around mez resting her head on my shoulder. I felt her taking deep breaths, and her body started to relax after some seconds.

“We will be okay” I nodded.

She nodded and sighed, her breath hitting my neck softly while she moved closer to me.

“This is our last day in the bubble, hm?” I heard her groan, making me laugh softly.

“It is” I nodded. “But I promise you, Dafne. This is just a little obstacle. We will fix it and then we can go back to our bubble”

I felt her fingers on my nape, burying themselves on my hair, making me close my eyes and lean on her, holding her closer. I took a deep breath, breathing her scent so deeply it nearly made me taste the vanilla of her perfume. 

“What do you think everyone is saying about us?” she whispered.

“Let's not think about it” I sighed. “Give me just some minutes to calm down”

“Mhm, okay” she nodded against my chest.

I closed my eyes, resting my chin on top of her head. We were tangled into each other, hugging and holding the other like our life depended on it.

“Our baby has a beautiful heartbeat” I whispered.

“It has…” she smiled. “The most beautiful heartbeat I ever heard”

“Yeah” I nodded. “I would make a song with it. I would… God, I would write a song only for you and our kid”

“Would you?” she whispered, and somehow I heard a soft giggle.

“I will” I promised. “I will compose so many songs for you and our baby…”

“You have a beautiful heartbeat, too” she whispered, pressing her head closer to my chest.

“It beats for you” I confessed. “It always did and always will do. Only for you, there's no one else, Dafne”

She pulled away and looked up at me, with her hand pressed on my chest. Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that once looked at me with hate and anger, now look at me with a completely different feeling. And somehow, that made me melt.

“My heart is yours, it always has been yours, Dafne Morelli” I whispered.

“Charles…” she whispered, meaning closer to me, brushing her lips with mine.

I didn't let her say anything, pressing my lips on hers and holding her face with my hands. 

Kissing her felt intoxicating, a necessary escape. I craved the warmth of her presence, the comfort of her touch.

I felt her moving, standing up just a few seconds before she sat on my lap with her legs on each of my sides. I looked up at her, smiling while I placed my hands on her hips.

“Hi” I smiled, breathless. 

“Hi” she whispered back, placing her hands on my shoulders. 

I smile and place my hands on her belly, rubbing it softly. We are in our bubble, not wanting to know what is happening outside, ignoring our phones and focusing on what we feel right now.

“You are the most beautiful woman I ever saw in my life” I whispered, pressing delicate kisses on her lips, then her nose, then her cheek, then her jaw. “I swear, Dafne. No one compares to you”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” she breathed, her voice low and urgent, as she gently bit my bottom lip.

I chuckled, holding her close to me and slipping my hands under her jumper, pulling her closer, feeling her bump pressed against me. I pressed my lips against hers again, biting her lip softly to make her open her mouth, slipping my tongue and exploring her mouth.

I heard her moan softly and it made me go crazy. 

“Fuck” I groan, pulling away and looking at her, feeling my heart close to burst.

“W-what?” she mumbled, looking at me surprised.

“I just…” I swallowed thickly. “God, I don't want to do this in the couch”

“Oh… Oh!” she laughed, hugging me.

“Yeah” I sighed.

“Then take me to bed, Leclerc” she whispered in my ear, biting my lobe softly. “Make me yours, hm?”

“Oh fuck” I moan, holding her. 

She got up from my lap, looking down at me with a smile filled with list and desire. I followed her with my eyes, watching how she walked upstairs looking at me over her shoulder. I felt a pull, like a string tied on my heart that pulled me to her, following her close. Dafne walked to her room, leaning on the door frame and looking at me with a smile, waiting for me. I stood in front of her, placing my hand on her neck and kissing her.

I felt her hands on my hips, moving to the button of my jeans and unbuttoning it slowly, making me chuckle.

“Eager, are we?” I chuckled softly against her lips, placing my hands on her hips and walking inside her room, smiling when she started to push down my jeans.

“You have no idea” she mumbled, biting my lip. “You have way too many clothes”

“You too” I groan.

Slowly, clothes started to fall to the floor until both of us were naked in front of the other. I scanned her body with my eyes, stopping in every curve, every beauty mark. 

“You are so fucking beautiful” I whisper, taking a step closer to her. “So God damn beautiful”

She smiled, closing her eyes when I pressed my lips on her neck, wrapping my arms around her body and walking towards the bed and laying her on it.

Her skin tasted so sweet, her smell was intoxicating me, making me need more, more, more. I kissed all the way between her legs, pressing soft kisses on the valley of her chest, on her breasts, on her stomach, on her belly. 

I took a deep breath, rubbing her folds with my finger and paying attention to her reactions, diving into her core and lapping all her juices.

“Fuck, Charles…” she gasped, arching her back.

I smiled, pushing another finger until she came around them, making sure to give her all the pleasure she deserves.

“Please, I need you inside” she moaned. “Please, Charles…”

“You don't need to beg, my love” I whisper. 

She looked at me with shock in her eyes, hearing the way I called her, but her gaze softened and sat on the bed in front of me. I helped her move, holding her thighs and moaning softly when I felt her core rubbing my length, looking into her eyes.

“I think… I think I'm falling in love with you” she whispered, accommodating herself on top of me. 

“Yeah?” I smiled. 

“Mhm” she nodded, moaning softly as I entered her slowly. 

I held her, helping her move and kissing her lips slowly. Her soft moans are music for my ears, making me need more, push deeper and kiss every inch kf her body.

I felt her hard nipples pressed against my chest, and I looked at her fore a few seconds.

There was something magical about Dafne's transformation during her pregnancy. Her skin had a warm, radiant glow, and her eyes sparkled with a new emotion. Her body transformed in gentle ways. Her breasts become fuller, a visible sign of the life growing inside her. Her belly rounded gracefully, a perfect curve that I couldn't help but reach out and touch. 

I leaned on her, looking into her eyes as I kissed her left breast, cupping the other one with my hand. Something inside me was asking me to bite, to suck, to mark. And with my eyes I asked her if I could listen to my needs.

And the moment she nodded, opening her mouth to leave a moan as I rocked my lips to hit a deeper part inside of her, I let my tongue lick the skin of her breast, rubbing the nipple with it and closing my lips around it.

I heard her gasp the moment she came around me, squeezing me in a way that helped me reach the climax too, closing my eyes as I liked away from her breast and kissed her lips.

“I love you” I moaned, repeating those three words again and again until we both came down from our high. “I love you, I love you”

She looked at me, panting softly, and smiled before kissing my lips deeply.

“I'm yours” she whispered. “Yours, only yours. My heart is yours, too”

And with those words, I felt at home. She's my person. She's my home.

 I had to hold her hand to make sure she didn't bite her nails. I had to put her favorite music on the car to keep her calm. 

And I made love to her before leaving home, hoping it would ease her nerves.

“What if he gets furious?” she whispered, her voice trembling with anxiety, repeating the question for the third time since we left home.

“Then he can go to hell” I sighed. 

“He's still your boss!” she gasped. “You can't just…”

“Dafne” I sighed, squeezing her knee softly. “It's okay. We can do this”

Oh, boy. This was going to be the hardest meeting of my life with Fred. I have to explain how everything fell apart and how I fell in love with her.

“But he’ll be so disappointed, Charles,” she sighed, her voice heavy with regret. “He trusted me, and I should have been more professional, called him earlier and told him the truth

“Hey, stop blaming yourself” I said, holding her hand tighter. “You wanted privacy, you were in shock with the news. You had every right to take a break”

“But not like this. I wasn't acting as a professional at all” she groaned. 

I sighed and shook my head, taking a deep breath when I saw Maranello nearby. If the rumors were right, Fred showed Lewis Hamilton a contract to take Dafne's seat. Let's hope he's not around, because it would be bad for Dafne.

“Let's go” I sighed, parking the car and getting out of it with her.

I didn't hesitate in holding her hand, having a tight grip and walking inside of the factory, knowing that everyone would be looking at us. Luckily, Dafne was wearing a baggy jumper, making her bump not be too obvious for those who ignore her pregnancy.

“Charles, Dafne” 

We both flinched when we heard him behind us, clearing his throat and walking closer to us. She wanted to let go of my hand, but I gave her a subtle squeeze to let her know that I won't stop taking her hand even if our boss, my boss, was in front of us.

“Good to see you, Dafne” he said, with clear irony in his voice. “I think we have a lot of things to talk about, aren't we?”

“Y-yeah” she nodded, tensing.

I squeezed her hand again, looking at her. She smiled weakly and sighed, looking at Fred. He started walking towards his office and we followed him close behind him. I could feel how nervous she was, how she clenched her jaw and licked her lip as a nervous tic. 

“Sit, please” Fred said, gesturing to the chairs that were placed in front of his office.

The small room seemed to close in around me as I glanced at the photos on the walls, each one a painful reminder of what she’s about to lose.It was like he did it on purpose, putting a picture of the day she won her first race, the same one she had in her private room in the hospitality. And next to that picture, the one where I won with Ferrari for the first time.

What a dirty move.

“Well, you are free to start talking” he said, motioning us. 

“I…” she started talking, biting her lip. “I'm sorry. I did everything wrong. And please, don't blame Charles, it wasn't his fault…”

“Dafne” I frowned. 

“The day I had the crash and was sent to the hospital, I received the news that I am pregnant” she mumbled, looking down at her lap, not daring to see Fred.

“With my baby” I said, looking at Fred, somehow challenging. He knows I would do anything for my family.

“How far are you” he wanted to know, and she flinched, closing her eyes.

“Seventeen weeks” she mumbled. “Nearly five months”

“Five months…” he sighed, staying quiet for a few seconds that felt like hours. “And you two have been together since then?”

“Yes” I said quickly, watching Dafne look at me, frowning. “Not exactly that time, but… after the lawsuit thing passed, we talked about our things…”

He looked at us, scanning us with his eyes. Clearly, not believing what I said.

“You know you have to renounce your seat” Fred sighed. “Right?”

“Yeah” she nodded, and I could hear her voice breaking. “I… We came here because we wanted to make things clear”

“We planned to announce her retirement and issue a statement, hoping to control the narrative before rumors could spiral out of control.” I sighed, holding Dafne's hand and looking at her. “Today the paparazzi invaded our privacy. We didn't tell anyone where we were staying, only her family knew where we were. Someone leaked the info and gave it to them”

“Yeah, I saw the pictures” he sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “Look… This is a big mess. But I guess you are still in time to announce your retirement. I don't know if you saw the rumors but Lewis is going to take your seat”

I felt her body tense. From her hand to her feet. When she heard it, she swallowed thickly and took a deep trembling breath. 

“Right” she nodded. “So he can bring back the glory of Ferrari? He is going to retire soon, Fred. I don't think that's a good idea”

“If you two didn't share a bed none of this would be happening” he frowned. 

“What we do in our private life is none of your business” she snapped. “It was an accident, yes. But I don't regret it. And never in a million years I would have thought of getting rid of my baby just to stay here”

“I wasn't saying that, Dafne” Fred frowned.

“But I bet you were thinking it” she groaned. “That's why they say this is a sport for men, hm? Less hormones and problems. We are too weak for this”

I felt her anger coming out of the deepest part of her soul, and I had to stop her before she regrets anything. Because I know she would regret it.

“Dafne…” I sighed, squeezing her hand and shaking my head softly. 

“You are free from this team, then” Fred said. “We will announce your retirement after you give that statement you want to post”

She got up slowly, looking at Fred and clenching her jaw. I got up with a jump, looking at her with worry in my eyes.

“You were like a father figure for me in this team, Fred” she mumbled. “But the moment you showed me your back after the Monza incident, I felt betrayed”

I stepped towards her, gently taking her hand in mine, our fingers intertwining as a silent promise that we'd face whatever came next together.

“I hope next season goes like you want it to go” she mumbled. “With a champion on your team. And I'm not talking about Lewis. Soon you'll regret making that move”

I looked at her, feeling so many things. I was proud of her, because she stood up against Fred alone, like she always did whenever something bad happened, even if she hates confronting problems. But at the same time I felt so sad, because I knew she was facing how her dream slipped through her fingers, giving up on it because of a mistake we made, no matter if we now accept it and love it.

“And I hope this new step in your life goes smoothly” he sighed, smiling weakly. “Congratulations, if I can say it”

“Thank you” she nodded, placing her hand on her belly.

I saw Fred smiling weakly, looking at her belly. I wonder if he regrets things he said or did. I wonder if he, somehow, feels bad for not reaching for her during all this time assuming she was only running away. I wonder if he's happy for us.

“I always thought you two would make a beautiful couple” he sighed. “It was too sad watching you fight, you two were clearly so oblivious. But really I'm glad you two are together”

We nodded, looking at him for one last time before walking out of the office.

I felt her tension, her anger, her stress. I tried to calm her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, but she stayed quiet until we got in the car.

“What the hell was that?” she groaned. “Lewis? Really? Oh my God, he really made a greedy move!”

I took a deep breath and sighed. I knew about that. If course I did. I caught him making a phone call with him, talking about replacing Dafne.

“I gave everything to this team, and that's how they thank me?” she scoffed. “They didn't reach for me! He could have called me, I had my phone!”

“He never did?” I frowned. 

“No” she groaned.

“Fuck…” I sighed. “He told me he did. That he tried to call you and you never answered”

“Well, that was a cheap lie, then” she laughed bitterly. 

“You… Do you want to say everything?” I sighed, holding her hand. “You want to tell them about Ferrari?”

She took a deep breath and bit her lip, looking out of the car at the red factory, her eyes fixed on the horse of the logo.

Her dream, the red team was always her dream. I remember how she always dressed in red when we were kids. How everything she had when she was little was red: her notebooks, her backpack, her water bottle. She always painted her nails with red nail polish, and always wore red lipstick. 

“Everyone will hate me, right?” she mumbled. “The team, they would feel so betrayed if I do that…”

I took a deep breath and nodded. I know she won't do something that would give her problems.

“I don't want them to hate me” she whispered. “I don't want them to hate me, to talk bad about me when I go to support you on the races…”

“Y-you would come to my races?” I said, surprised. 

“Of course, Charles” she smiled sweetly, holding my hand. 

I smile weakly and bring her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles while looking into her eyes.

"I'll make you proud," I whispered, my voice thick with determination. "For you and our baby. I promise, I'll make every moment count."

“I know” she smiled. “You are my champion, you'll fight for me, I know it”

I smile softly and place my hand on her neck, leaning closer to her and kissing her lips softly, just how lovers do.

dafnemorelli

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, oscarpiastri and 1.579.575 others

dafnemorelli Once upon a time, two kids met in Greece. They didn't know it yet, but they were meant to be together, no matter how many times they started a war. They enjoyed each other's company and fell in love, slowly. How innocent.

Years went by and those kids turned into adults. Adults make mistakes and focus on what matters for themselves, sometimes forget the inner child that only wants to have fun and love their loved ones with pure innocence. 

Charles and I were each other's first love. None of you know our true story, but we are here to share it.

We met in Greece when we were kids, and I found something that at that age I thought was love. He understood me and I understood him. But because kids are stubborn, something happened and we broke our friendship, turning it into a childish rivalry.

Now, as adults, we made so many mistakes, started so many fights. And we are tired of it. We got tired of it. So we took the bandage out of our eyes and found again those kids that loved to be together. 

Charles and I want to apologize for everything we did. All the fights that caused problems for the team and for the Tifosi. We want to apologize because we are learning to love each other again.

I want to announce that Charles and I are going to be parents. Our baby and I are healthy, I found out I was pregnant the same day I had the crash in Abu Dhabi. 

And with this pregnancy comes sad news, too.

I want to announce my retirement from Formula 1. I want to focus on this new journey, starting a family with my childhood lover.

I'll see you soon, I promise.

comments on this post have been limited

charles_leclerc Can't wait to start this new journey with you❤️ 

maxverstappen1 really happy for you two

pierregasly I'll be the favorite uncle

oscarpiastri Why are you so sure?  pierregasly Because I'm cool landonorris Everyone knows that the cool uncles will be me and Violet violetsinclair Baby Morelli-Leclerc will be loved, for sure

charles_leclerc 

liked by dafnemorelli, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1.572.371 others

charles_leclerc Dear six year old me:

We have her back. We fought so many times with her, but we never gave up. We might make a lot of mistakes, but like people always say: love always wins.

We are now going to have a kid together, just how you dreamed when you first saw her. I still remember those thoughts you had when you saw her with her little sister. 

Dear Dafne, I really can't wait to see our baby. I really can't wait to show how grateful I am. I can't wait to be next to you in this new journey.

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen1 Max is a good name, isn't it? And if it's a girl it can me Maxine (internet says it means greatest)

alex_albon  Alex is a good name too, you can use it with a girl and a boy  violetsinclair stop being ridiculous, there are better names landonorris Thank you babe, I know Lando is a good name violetsinclair what? No? I was talking about fictional names… -dafnemorelli violetsinclair Manon or Dorian sounds good? violetsinclair oh pls yes.

carlossainz55 Can't wait to meet baby Morelli-Leclerc

taglist

@racinggirl @elisysd @alltoomaples @ssprayberrythings @rach3164 @yvonne-dump @deliciousfestsalad @janeh22 @hc-dutch @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @ssararuffoni @itsjustkhaos @scaramou @tapedeck-hearts @apollosfavkiddo @sltwins @glitterquadricorn @ladystardust05 @theseerbetweenus @vizzzashley @auawdo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @leptitlu @green-thots @caterinemirandax_ @mid5nights @harrysdimple05

[madschiavelique]

Hiii

I read the Miguel x Pete x sensitive reader one and from the title I thought it would be smutty, so.

Imma need a sensitive reader x Miguel x peter where the reader gets like overstimulated.

YESSS getting obsessed with these lil guys

summary : miguel and peter overstimulate you content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, harddom!miguel, softdom!peter, sub!reader, afab reader, oral (reader giving to miguel), pnv sex, overstimulation, toy usage (vibrator), no use of Y/N word count : 658 tag list : @fandom-ash

Too much, way too much, definitely too much. For hours, Peter and Miguel had been giving you orgasm after orgasm without ever letting you rest, and the sensations were absolutely overwhelming.

It was almost as if… your body was a snow globe being perpetually shaken, with thousands of sparkles waltzing around inside. Your whole interior possessed this blurred numb warmth, but which switched to sharp spikes of sensation as soon as it was touched, like a summer fog mixing with a sandstorm.

Your brain as well as your body couldn't take it anymore, and you wiggled, muttering exhaustedly against Miguel's cock. Your jaw ached slightly, Peter taking you from the back as Miguel's fingers laced through your hair, fucking your mouth relentlessly.

Your back arched as Peter turned on the vibrator again, pressing it against you as you tried to pull away, as if your own body were telling you that you had to back off. Your muffled moans reverberated against Miguel's handsome groan as Peter caressed your back.

The two had completely different rhythms, Miguel staying hard and going deep into your throat to make you cough. But your throat was so tight, so hot and wet, that he couldn't deny himself the urge to sink his whole length into your mouth, especially when you moaned and every vibration reverberated against his skin.

Peter, on the other hand, was far less brutal, maintaining a rhythm that wouldn't be unpleasant if your whole body wasn't asking you to collapse on the spot. But the tenderness with which he acted now masked very little of the pleasure he felt in making a simple gesture that had almost the effect of an electric shock on you: pressing the vibrator button against your clit.

You could feel another orgasm rising in your lower belly, amidst the meandering heat caused by all this sensation.

Your thighs trembled as he momentarily stopped again, and you tried your best to mumble against Miguel's skin, "Stop, please", which came out more like a "Fqob fweav."

Everything stung, and you squeezed your eyelids hard as Miguel pushed himself further down your throat, tears running down your cheeks and nose.

"It's a little hard to hear you with my dick in your mouth, you said you wanted Peter to turn the vibrator up more for you?" asked Miguel, in a tone bordering on cruelty.

The very idea of feeling the vibration of the toy made you wiggle your hips in an attempt to get as far away from the thought as possible.

"Come on bunny, we're not done with you yet. Just one more" encouraged Peter as he pressed the vibrator again, increasing the intensity as Miguel had addressed it.

You let out a moan that leaned towards complaint, a weakened whimper as the knot in your belly tightened.

You felt your orgasm take hold of you and your whole body was a kind of slow, warm, mushy heart, beating like something far away from the limits of your skin and yet so close to your core. You pulled your head back, letting yourself fall onto the mattress and letting the rest of your body fall apart as you became breathless and deeply disoriented.

"We warned you that we were going to give it to you tonight," Miguel breathed as he came to stroke your hair, running his thumb over your lips darkened by their previous positions. "What about a pause?" offered Peter, stroking your hip, "enough to let you…"

But you didn't hear the end of the sentence; you'd just passed out. When you woke up later, you were covered in clean clothes, under your comforter against Peter and Miguel.

You'd been so tired by all this that you simply couldn't stand it, and you were terribly sorry, apologizing to Miguel and Peter who immediately reassured you. You'd lasted much longer than usual this time, and they were so proud of you that multiple rewards followed.

[sara-scribbles]

Melting the Dragon King's Heart (Part 3)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/F!Reader Summary: After falling down some stairs, you wake up in the body of a villain from one of Idia's cheesy romance books. Destined to die a fiery death, you have to figure out a way to change your fate. Word Count: 7,661 Notes: Hey all, sorry for being off the grid for so long! I've been busy and haven't had much time to do anything besides study. But we're finally at the end! I hope everyone enjoyed the story! It was a lot of fun to try my hand at writing this. Malleus is a fun character to write for.

I might have some more isekai/regression/reincarnation stories for Leona and Jamil. It's something I've been thinking about but haven't fully committed. Let me know if these ideas sound interesting and you'd like me to write on them.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, attempted murder, actual murder, death

Despite being in the library often, it’s always a little daunting when you first step in. There are plenty of staff to help, but shelves upon shelves of texts are still a bit much. A lot of the texts near the back are quite old. A lot of them have to be handled with care or they might just fall apart.

After asking for books on enchanted weapons, with a strange look from the librarian, you sit down and try your best to go through as much as possible. After a few hours of no success, you feel a headache coming on. Leaning back, you let out a deep, tired breath. There are plenty of enchanted weapons, some real and some just legend, but there’s nothing about the specific weapon you’re looking for.

In the story, the dagger is described as being crimson with an obsidian handle. It was originally a sword blessed by a group of fairies to take down a corrupted dragon. However, once the blade had been dipped in the ancient dragon’s blood, the blessing turned into a curse. Somehow the sword was broken but enough remained to create a dagger. 

Any cut made by the blade could not be healed. No magic, no potion, no artifact could stop the bleeding. The wounded person would bleed to death. If the person was lucky, they could die in a matter of seconds. Those not so lucky would have an agonizingly slow death. Even if they were to cauterize the wound, the bleeding would continue. It would only stop once the wounded died.

“Very grim,” you mutter under your breath. For such a light hearted novel, the curse of the blade was surprising. However, it’s never used since the main protagonist is able to get it.

“Your highness, is everything alright?” the royal librarian.

Sitting up straight, you clear your throat. “I don’t think I’ll be able to find what I’m looking for. Could you put these back?” You close the book with a thump.

“Of course. Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.” Deciding to head back to your office, you leave the library. By now you know how to navigate your way through the castle. 

Your feet move on autopilot as your mind wanders. There must be something you can do. The only other thing you can think of is returning home to see if they’ve found the cursed dagger. Of course this would require you to figure out the relative time frame of when Yūki meets Malleus to when it's found. However, you’re unsure if following the story timeline would even be helpful with how different everything is now.

Arriving back at your office, you eye the stack of documents still left for your review. Plopping down onto the chair unceremoniously, you rub your eyes. Instead of doing the work on your desk, you find the previous book you had been reading. You never thought books about laws would be interesting, but Briar Valley has some strange laws that make reading about them fascinating.

As you flip to the bookmark, you note with some irony that the next chapter is on divorce. Perhaps when your plan had been to divorce Malleus, this would have been helpful. Though, still curious, you decide to read it. Everything about Briar Valley’s laws are complicated, though maybe not as complicated as the Queendom of Roses. There are separate laws for fae, humans, and fae-human issues.

You skip to the section on fae-human divorce since that would apply to you. “ ‘Depending on whether the parties have participated in the soul ceremony, divorce can be rather difficult though not impossible.’ What’s a soul ceremony?”

Before you can continue, Diablo knocks on the door. “Your grace, lunch is being served.” You quickly close the book before following him.

---

You’re silently reading in bed while Malleus goes through some documents. The times he used to come to your room to “hold your hand” has extended to almost every night. Instead of holding your hand, you both comfortably sit in your bed either talking or reading.

Malleus still returns to his room once it’s time for bed. You almost asked him if he wanted to stay the previous night, but you lost your nerves. There’s something very different from just reading in bed to actually sleeping next to him. You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with him, but it’s almost been an entire year of marriage and you haven’t once slept in the same bed, so you’re unsure about how to bring it up.

Malleus shuffles his papers with a deep sigh. Glancing over at him, he rubs the bridge of his nose while muttering to himself. “Something wrong?” you ask.

He sets the papers aside on the bedside table. “Nothing really. Just that grandmother will be visiting soon. And she’s already placed certain…demands on me.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. “She is?!” You had only met her a handful of times. Yet, in those few formal visits, all you can recall is how intimidating both in magic and overall presence she is.

Chuckling, the fae reaches out and squeezes your hand. “No need to worry, my heart. I’ll take care of all the preparations.”

Book forgotten, you turn to him. “What did she ask for?”

“She wants her favorite room overlooking the gardens. She, of course, expects to have dinner with both of us. And a few other things about her daily walks around Briar Valley that I’m sure Diablo can take care of,” he answers, ticking off each one on his fingers.

Fiddling with the sheets, you ask, “Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm… She didn’t say anything in her letters. But I’m sure she’ll let you know if she wants anything.” His gaze flickers over to the book in your lap.

“I should do something for her. Since it’s been awhile, maybe I can get her some flowers. Or maybe plan an outing? Do you think she’d want to have tea in the gardens? Or maybe…” As you ramble, Malleus takes the book from your lap.

He nods occasionally while he skims the page. His lips press together in a thin line. Brows furrowing, his eyes narrow. You pause when you finally notice he’s not listening. “Malleus?”

Turning away from the book, he asks in a serious tone, “Did I do something wrong?”

Blinking owlishly, you cycle back to the conversation. Yet, nothing comes to mind about what he is referring to. “What are you talking about?”

He gestures to the book. “You’re reading about divorce in regards to fae-human relationships. Did I do something wrong to make you consider divorce?” Though his tone is even, the stormy look in his eyes say otherwise. There’s a flash of lighting outside the window.

Ignoring the sudden change in weather, you shake your head. “I’m not planning to divorce you, Malleus.”

His shoulders relax and his gaze clears. “I see…”

Taking the book away from him, you set it aside. “I’ll tell you the truth. I may have considered divorce at the start of our marriage because I didn’t want you to be unhappy.” ‘I also didn’t want to die’ you add silently. “But I realized that it would be unfair to ask for divorce based on a few months together. And it would be selfish of me to not consider your own feelings.”

“If you aren’t happy here, I’d be fine with a divorce,” he says, his voice strained. “I want you to be happy.”

Leaning against his shoulder, you hum in agreement. “I am happy. And you’re happy too, right?”

“Of course,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Except the fact your parents possibly have a weapon that could kill him.

He wraps his arm around your middle, dragging you closer to his side so your head rests against his chest. He leans back against the pillows. You can hear the steady beating of his heart. A comfortable silence falls and you're almost lulled to sleep. The thought of sharing a room pops into your head once more.

“Hey, do you want to share a room?” you inquire, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

Malleus straightens up, which startles your comfortable position. “You wish to share a room?” His eyes are wide.

Sitting up, you find yourself picking at the sheets again. “Well, you basically come here every night, so that would be the most logical thing to do. And we are married, so it wouldn’t be strange if we decided to sleep in the same room.”

Shuffling out of bed, Malleus puts on his dragon slippers. “I will let Diablo know at once to prepare the master bedroom,” he says hurriedly. 

“M-Mallues?” He has already gathered his papers and is about to head out before he stops halfway.

He walks back over to you. With a large grin, he leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I almost forgot, my heart. Good night.” Eyes twinkling, he leaves without another word.

Your mouth hangs open for a bit before you snap it closed with a click.

---

In less than a day, your new bedroom is ready. Diablo has your things moved in while you're working. The old butler seems at ease and comments how Malleus is in a wonderful mood. Everyone you pass by smiles brightly at you. You’re almost embarrassed at the fact that it seems everyone knows why he’s in a good mood. But, it’s honestly adorable.

There is a nervous feeling that settles in your stomach as you think about the logistics of sharing a room. For one, you have to share a bathroom, which isn’t much of an issue considering how massive the bathrooms are. The only thing you’re concerned about is possibly being walked in on while changing. It isn’t like you haven’t seen another naked person, but you’re self conscious about the scars on your back.

No one, besides your parents and the few people who treated you on occasion when you were unable to, knows about the scars. They’re all thin and straight, but there are so many. They crisscross from the top of your back to the small of your back. Some are very old while others are only about a year old. 

You recall the faces of the few doctors who had seen the scars. Looks of shock and pity aren’t uncommon. One, you recall vividly, did not react at all, but you could see the way her hands shook. Yet, none dared to ask where the marks came from nor did they ever say anything to your parents. They valued their lives far more.

How could you blame them?

Shaking your head to clear out the bad thoughts, you decide you’ll figure out what to do when the time comes. For now, you have to decide what to do with two unexpected visitors. 

There had been a commotion at the palace gates that Diablo had come to you about this morning. When you heard what happened, you immediately went to meet them. Now in the drawing room, Yūki sits across from you looking sheepish. Grim happily munches on the food offered by Diablo.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” you start. It’s true since Yūki and Grim are not supposed to come for another two months. It’s just another indication that the story is completely different.

Yūki sighs. “Grim kept nagging about wanting to visit. When he wants to do something, he typically won’t change his mind. I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced.”

You wave off their apology. “It’s fine. I just wanted to be able to prepare for your visit more. Diablo can prepare a guest room. It’s a little busy here because Malleus’s grandmother is visiting soon.” you explain.

“Should we leave? I don’t want to be intruding…” Grim doesn’t seem bothered as he downs a cup of tea. Diablo pours him a refill without missing a beat.

“No, it’s fine. She’s not supposed to be here for another month. So, how are your travels?” you ask, changing the subject.

They seem to relax a bit. “It’s great! We went to visit the Scalding Sands before coming here. We even got to ride a magic carpet!” Their eyes light up as they talk about their newest adventure.

You wonder how they felt in the original novel when they had to stay in Briar Valley at the end. The author didn’t mention much about what happened except that Yūki went on to rule alongside Malleus. It was implied that they never left Briar Valley. Could someone who loved traveling so much really be happy staying in one place?

At some point in the conversation Malleus comes in. He pauses when his gaze lands on Yūki. You watch as he regards them curiously. Yet, it’s only a brief pause before he turns to you to ask you a few questions about a document. He leaves right after without a second look.

A part of you is a little disappointed at the underwhelming moment of their first meeting. However, another part is happy that there isn’t some kind of instant connection between the two. You’re selfish.

“He’s scary,” Grim mutters once Malleus is gone.

“Grim!” Yūki looks at you apologetically.

“What?! I’m just telling the truth! The magic rolling off of him is intense!” The cat waves his paws around. “It’s suffocating! You might not be able to feel it henchhuman, but I can tell!”

“It’s alright. Malleus can seem rather intimidating, but he really isn’t. I promise he’s a gentle, kind soul,” you assure them with a laugh.

Yūki relaxes once more. “He obviously loves you very much,” they state while chewing on a macaron. You face warms. “He only has eyes for you,” they continue “and it seems the feelings are mutual…” A single eyebrow goes up.

Trying to hide your embarrassment, you take a long sip of tea. Clearing your throat, you can’t meet their amused eyes. “Well…yes, they are,” you say in a soft tone. You can’t lie about your feelings. “He has a good heart. We started off rocky, but we’re in a good place now.”

Yūki and Grim both glance at each other. You realize you’re probably smiling like a fool and quickly school your features as best as you can. You steer the conversation to a different topic.

Later, Diablo shows them to the guest room and you head back to your office. There’s still paperwork you need to finish. On your desk is some mail with many of them being letters from other foreign dignitaries. However, one letter causes your blood to run cold. You know that sharp but elegant script as you know the scars on your back.

Rarely have your parents sent letters. Slipping the letter opener under the envelope, you’re almost tempted to burn the letter without looking. But the fact that they sent a letter must mean something important. It’s only a single sheet with only three sentences. You blink a few times before setting down the paper. The page blurs as you feel your chest pounding and a distant, high pitched noise fills your ears.

Dearest child,

Your mother has passed. Come home so our country may mourn her. The funeral will be tomorrow.

Father

Before you can fully realize anything, the door to your office opens. Malleus steps inside with a concerned look in his gaze while holding a piece of paper. Breaking out of your daze, you zero in on the paper in his hand. It’s the same sharp writing. There’s nowhere to hide.

“My heart, I am so sorry,” he says, gently setting down the letter. You can see that your father wrote more to him in the letter. “Are you okay?”

He reaches out but pauses when he notices the look in your eyes. There’s a long pause before you find your voice. “I’m fine. Thank you…” You carefully take your own letter and fold it back into the envelope. “I should prepare to return…” you whisper.

Malleus gently takes your hand in his. “Take all the time you need. I know the mourning process can take time.”

Your heart aches at his kindness. But how can you tell him that you don’t want to go back? That you’re terrified of returning to a place that only holds bad memories? Malleus lost his parents, so he’s no stranger to loss. But you hold no sympathy for the woman who called herself your mother.

“I’ll inform Diablo. Finish up what you need here.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving to find the old butler.

You stand there for a moment. Your heavy breathing is the only sound that you can hear. You stumble your way out of the study. As everything fades in the background, childhood memories come back. Memories of a younger version huddling on the bed, knees draw close to her chest. Always shaking but never crying because it would only lead to further punishment.

A voice calls out as you stumble and fall forward. You hit the ground face first but you don’t register the impact. A hand comes into your lines of vision and you instinctively jerk away.

“Don’t…” you cry out weakly.

Suddenly Yūki’s face appeared into your field of vision. They say something but you don’t really hear. They move away for a bit and return with some water. They press the cup into your hands. They place a gentle hand on your back while rubbing slow circles. Your hands shake as you stare into the cup. As your breathing slows down, the pressure in your chest lessens. After a little longer, you take a slow sip.

“Your highness?” Yūki hesitantly calls to you in a soft tone.

Swallowing, you look around. Somehow, you stumbled your way to Yūki’s guestroom. “I…I’m sorry for barging in on you…” you apologize.

Yūki offers their hand and guides you to a chair. Setting the cup on the table, you sag back into the chair. “Just take your time,” they say, taking a seat as well.

Glancing around, you note that Grim isn’t anywhere to be seen. As if reading your mind, Yūki adds, “Grim went to grab a snack from the kitchen. He probably won’t be back for a while.”

You fiddle with your hands trying to find the words. You’re sure Yūki isn’t the type to gossip, so whatever you tell them would be safe. But should you be dumping your personal problems on someone who you’ve only met a few times?

“I don’t want to burden you with my personal problems…but would you be willing to listen?” The weight of everything has always been there, but you had ignored it. But with the arrival of the letter, you can’t ignore it anymore. Perhaps hearing the advice of someone from the outside would help.

Nodding, Yūki offers an encouraging smile. So you tell them everything. Well almost everything. You tell them about the past, your parents’ plan to take over Briar Valley using your unique magic, the fact that you’ve been lying to Malleus from the beginning, that they may have the one weapon that could kill Malleus. Every word out of your mouth feels like a release. Yūki listens without saying a word and keeping their facial expression straight.

Finally, you finish and it feels like you’ve been speaking for hours. Your throat feels dry, but the weight has been lessened. You wait for Yūki to respond. It’s a lot of information to be telling someone in one sitting.

Clearing their throat, their brows draw together. “Well…sorry but fuck that’s a lot!”

Your eyebrows go up as you stare at each other. Then, you start laughing. You both burst into laughter. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Yūki say something like that. Wiping away stray tears, you shake your head with a smile.

“Sorry for dumping all that on you. I think I just needed to tell someone.” You sigh. “I’ve been holding that in for so long, but it feels good to at least tell someone.”

They wave off your apology. “You’d be surprised how many of my friends I had to play therapist for. It’s nothing new.”

Despite the reassurance, you can see the slight sag in their shoulders. “Still, you shouldn’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m being a hypocrite since I just did the same thing, but I want you to know it’s okay to just turn away if something becomes too much. You don’t have to fix everyone’s problems.”

Looking away, Yūki chuckles softly. “You’re the first person to tell me that… Thank you.”

You want to tell them that you know about the things they have to go through in the story. But don’t because Yūki isn’t a character in Idia’s book. Despite starting out in what you understood to be a story, you’ve come to realize that the people you’ve interacted with are not characters. They’re people with their own emotions and wills.

Breathing in deeply, you flex your hands. “I’m going to tell Malleus everything. I think it’s time he knew the truth, and he can decide for himself what he wants to do.”

“That’s probably for the best. Lying usually ends up biting you in the ass later on.” You both laugh. “He clearly adores you. So, you just need to trust in him to understand.”

“Right.” You offer Yūki a wide smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

---

After a lively dinner thanks to Grim’s antics, you’re getting ready for bed. Malleus is already tucked in reading. Though you plan to tell him everything, you can’t help but move slowly. You had prepared a speech, but now you can’t remember a word.

Standing in the doorway of the bathroom, you regard Malleus. His shoulders are relaxed and his facial expression is almost serene. The stress from hosting his grandmother has all but disappeared. Your heart swells with affection for him. You want to live the rest of your life with him in peace and warmth. And the only way that it can happen is if you tell him the truth. Together you can figure out a way to take care of your parents.

Feeling your gaze, Malleus looks up. “My heart?” His head tilts to the side.

Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders. “Malleus, I need to tell you something.”

He closes the book, giving you his full attention. “Why don’t you come here and we can talk?”

Hesitating, you shake your head. “I want to stand. What I’m going to tell you will be a lot.” He nods.

As you tell him everything about your life and your parents’ plans, he doesn’t react at all. You pour out all your feelings and thoughts. As the words leave your mouth, you feel even lighter. A sense of relief washes over you as you finish. You wait in agonizing silence as Malleus remains quiet. His gaze is distant as he takes in everything.

Finally, he looks at you. He doesn’t say a word as he holds his arms out to you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you walk over to the bed. Climbing in the bed, he wraps his arms around your form and pulls you close to him.

You bury your face in his chest. You can only mutter apologizes as he holds your tight. He doesn’t say anything as you quietly sob. After what feels like an eternity, you seem to run out of tears. Your eyes are sore and puffy.

He kisses the top of your head. “Thank you for telling me the truth. It must have been difficult,” he mumbles. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Ear pressed against his chest, you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was too scared,” you admit. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I could never hate you.” He gently wipes away the tears that have stained your cheeks. “However, I am upset. Very much so.”

His green eyes glow dangerously as he glances out the window. Dark clouds roll in and lightning strikes. “Should I go there myself?” he muses.

“Malleus…” Placing a hand against his cheek, you turn his head so he looks at you. “Don’t do anything rash. My father is to blame not the people of my country. You can’t just go in and wipe out the country.”

Frowning, he looks thoughtful before he smiles sharply. “How about I just kill him, my heart. Or I can give you the honor of doing that.”

Leaning against his chest, you shake your head. “He might have that weapon…”

“I’ll squish before he even has a chance to think about using it.”

“This would be considered a criminal act.”

“What your parents did to you and planned to do with me are criminal acts. I’m only ending this before it can lead to something worse.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you smile to yourself as you tighten your hold on Malleus. “Let’s talk about what to do tomorrow. But thank you for offering to help despite everything.”

“Of course. I would do anything for you.” 

---

The next day you wake up feeling at peace. Malleus knows the truth and he still cares about you. You don’t have to go back to that place. Stretching, Malleus tightens his hold around your waste. 

You still can’t believe that someone as regal as Malleus likes to cuddle. Most mornings you spend a few minutes trying to get out of his hold. He can be rather clingy first thing in the morning. It’s cute.

“We need to get up,” you say, trying to worm your way out of his hold. He hums before releasing you.

Malleus sits up as you find your slippers. You can feel his stare and quickly look up. He’s frowning with his brows pinched together. “What’s wrong?”

“Your scars…I didn’t realize…”

Right, you usually hide them long before he can see them. But last night’s confession had taken a lot out of both of you. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it, Malleus.”

Eyes narrowing, he shakes his head. “I need to talk to Lilia about what we should do.” He pauses, his brow smooths as he regards you. “Can I tell him everything you told me?”

You hesitate for a second but agree. “Yes. You trust Lilia, so I’ll trust him too.” If you’re going to do this without blowing up an entire country, you’ll need help. And Lilia seems rather level-headed under all the teasing.

Malleus leans over to peck you on the cheek. “I’ll see him now. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’m going to head to my office once I check up on Yūki and Grim.” You feel your mouth stretch into a goofy grin as he pulls away. You’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach when he kisses you will never go away.

Once you’re clean and dressed, you make your way to the guest room. Yūki and Grim are already out, though the feline looks half asleep. “Morning, you two.”

Yūki gives a short wave before a yawn overtakes them. They quickly cover their mouth. “Mornin’....”

“It’s too early to be up!” Grim grumbles.

You chuckle as he yawns. “I’m sure the cooks have prepared something tasty for breakfast.”

That perks him up. “What are we standing here for?! Let's go!” He rushes ahead as Yūki follows at a slower pace.

“So… is everything okay?” They give you a sideways glance.

“Yeah. He took it well.” You give a small nod. “Thank you for listening yesterday.”

“Of course.” They offer a reassuring smile. ���I was also thinking about what you said yesterday…about not needing to fix everyone’s problems…”

“Yes?”

Chewing on their lower lip, they’re silent as you near the dining room. They relax a bit when Grim turns around to beckon for them to hurry up. “You’re right. I don’t need to fix everyone’s problems. I need to learn when to take a step back and say no. I’m going to work on that. I just wanted to let you know.”

“It might take a bit of practice, but it’s good you’re taking your own feelings and well-being into consideration.” Patting them on the back, you two share a look before they’re pulled away by Grim’s shouting.

A flash near the window catches your eye and your blood runs cold. “Your majesty?” Diablo calls to you, worry etched on his wizened face. He looks out but doesn’t react. “Is something the matter?”

“D-did you see him?” you ask, your hands curl into fists.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I did not see anything. Should I have the guards take a look?”

You pause. You don’t want to cause a scene if it’s nothing. But you also wouldn’t put it past your father to show up uninvited to drag you home. “Yes, have someone take a look. If they find Duke Wynters, please send him away.”

Without further explanation, Diablo leaves. You let out a deep breath. It could just be your own fears playing tricks on you. Joining Grim and Yūki for breakfast, you try your best to forget about it.

However, after breakfast Diablo reports that the guards did not find anyone. Not even a trace of magic. Despite that, you’re still on edge as you head to your office. Hand hovering over the door knob, the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Grasping the handle, you throw open the door to your study with a bang.

There’s no one inside. Everything is in its usual place. You let out another deep breath and shake your head. Taking a seat, you take the nearest stack of papers to start work. You throw the stack across the room as if burned.

The letter that you had burned flutters to the floor. You jump up. “Diab-!”

A cold hand clamps down on your arm. “Don’t.” Duke Wynter’s grip is strong despite his age. Old memories hold you in place as fear settles in.

“You know, I was so disappointed when you didn’t come home for your own mother’s funeral. Tsk…” His voice is calm, but you know better.

“H-how did you-” You hate that your voice shakes.

“Get in here? There are things magic artifacts can do that can even trick a mighty dragon.” He snorts. “Now, we’re going home. And I’m sure your dear husband will follow.” He bares his teeth in a ruthless smile.

Duke Wynters pulls a small pocket mirror from his breast pocket. He tosses it out and it expands into a full length mirror. A disembodied face stares back at you. “Take us back home, Mirror,” he orders.

“As you command,” the mirror murmurs. The surface of the mirror ripples and slowly changes until it shows the image of the manor. Gripping your arm tightly, he drags you toward it.

You don’t want to go, but fear grips your body. So, you let your panic swell along with your magic. The room becomes so cold you can see your own breath. Your vision blurs as Duke Wynters screams and something explodes.

Then everything goes black.

---

Malleus sends the doors of the study flying off. The entire study has been destroyed. The windows have been blown out and a thick layer of ice coats everything. His breath comes out in small puffs of fog.

He shouts your name. The frozen chandelier shakes.

Lilia places a hand on his arm. “They’re gone. Most likely back to his home. We need to leave now if we want to catch up to them.”

Turning to Sebek and Silver, Lilia gives them both a hard look. “Malleus and I will go after the queen. You both stay here and make sure everything is okay.”

They both give him a salute. “Please take care, father,” Silver says, forgoing the formalities.

“Stay safe, your majesty!” Sebek bows deeply to Malleus.

The two fae give one last nod before they vanish.

Standing at the entrance to your home, it’s oddly quiet and deserted. Dark, gloomy clouds loom threateningly in the distance. For a brief moment Malleus wishes he could have seen you during your childhood. But that thought quickly fades as he remembers the scars that criss-cross your back. Bitterness fills his mouth and anger boils to the surface.

The front gate is locked, but he simply blows it away with a snap of his fingers. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Lilia gives Malleus a reassuring squeeze. “Everything is going to be okay. But…maybe we shouldn’t destroy everything.”

There’s a beat of silence before Malleus calms himself, though his fists remain clenched. “Let’s head inside.”

They enter the home but there’s still not a soul to be found. There’s an eeriness to the dead silence. Passing rooms, there’s evidence of the occupants hastily leaving. The two fae follow the strong presence of magic. They enter an outdoor courtyard though it looks like it’s seen better days.

There in the middle sits a figure slumped over. Malleus’s eyes widen as he rushes over calling your name. However, he’s stopped by another voice. “I’m so glad you could come, your majesty.” Duke Wynters stands on a balcony that overlooks the courtyard. Malleus notes he seems to favor his left side. Small flecks of ice cling to his tattered coat sleeve.

Clenching his teeth, his hands itch to burn him without thought. But the smug look on the man’s face makes him cautious. He has something up his sleeve if he can confidently speak down to two powerful fae.

“Let her go,” he orders. “And I will make your death a merciful one.”

The duke cackles. He gestures to the still slumped over figure. “Unfortunately, I cannot give you my dear daughter unless you’re willing to make a deal.”

His eyes burn with disgust. “Or I could just kill you right now.”

“You could. But then you’d also be killing her.” Duke Wynters raises both hands and starts moving his fingers. Now, Malleus can see what’s going on. Thin strings of magic are connected to each of the duke’s fingers. And they’re attached to you.

Your body suddenly moves. You jerkily raise your head and stand up. You're holding a dagger in one hand. Like a puppet, you mechanically point the blade at him. The strange crimson metal gleams under the low light. However, Malleus can see the pain and panic in your eyes. Despite your body being controlled, you’re fully conscious of what’s going on.

The duke continues, “You see, my unique magic allows me to control a person’s body like a marionette. However, my life and their life are connected until I end the magic. I believe you’re a smart one, you understand what I’m saying.” He grins sharply.

“What do you want?” Malleus finally asks.

The man chuckles. “All you need to do is to take her place. Call off your man and promise no harm shall come to me. In return, I’ll release your beloved.”

“How can I guarantee that once I die, you’ll keep your word?”

“Malleus I don-” Lilia is cut off with a look.

The duke sighs. “Honestly, you should have more faith in your father-in-law. But I will make a magic oath with you.”

Malleus doesn’t hesitate. “I accept.”

A wide, crazed grin forms on the duke’s face. “I knew you’d make the smart choice!”

“Malleus!” Lilia protests. “Don’t do this!”

“What choice do I have, Lilia?” Tears are streaming down your face. “If I don’t do this, she’ll die. And if she’s gone, I…I might as well be dead.”

The older fae can’t find any words. Of course he wants the queen back. But if Briar Valley loses their king, he’s not sure what will happen. However, Lilia can’t think of a way out of this. If what the duke told them of his unique magic is true, then they can’t kill him without killing you. And even if it might not be true, Malleus isn’t the type to take that sort of gamble. Not with you on the line.

Duke Wynters sighs. “This could have all been avoided if my dear stupid child had followed the plan. Instead she goes and falls in love with you.” Clucking his tongue, he shakes his head with feigned sadness. “That blade she’s holding is special. We spent so much time and resources looking for something that could kill such a powerful creature like you. The blade is cursed so that no wound made with it can be healed with magic or potions.”

Suddenly you start to jerkily walk toward Malleus while wielding the blade. The fear in your eyes shines brightly as you hold the blade inches from where his heart is. Your hand shakes.

Malleus meets your gaze. He had vowed to never make you unhappy, but it seems he’s unable to keep that promise.  Reaching out, he cups your face and brushes away the tears. “Do not worry, my heart, everything will be okay.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he can feel the blade’s point press into him. He closes his eyes.

“NO!” The shout that breaks through the tense silence chills him to the bone. Eyes opening, he only briefly sees you smiling through your tears with the blade plunged deep into your chest. You crumble to the ground.

The duke lets out a horrified scream that turns into a choke gurgle. He clutches at his chest as he loses his balance. He falls forward and plummets from the balcony. His body hits the ground with a sickening crunch.

However, Malleus is preoccupied with the blood that seeps from your body. Holding you close to him, he attempts to use magic on the wound. He ignores the blood that soaks into his clothes. But the blade only seems to absorb it. He mutters an apology as he pulls the blade out and attempts to heal the wound. Still nothing happens.

His voice cracks, “Lilia, what do I do?!” For the first time, Malleus is powerless.

Lilia shakes his head. “I don’t know…”

Your eyes flutter open. You attempt to touch him but you have no energy, so your hand falls uselessly aside. Malleus cradles your body. “Don’t leave me! Please!”

Your eyes glaze over. “No!” Malleus screams your name, but you don’t move. Dark clouds block out the sky and the wind howls outside as green lightning flashes.

A loud, mournful roar shakes the very earth.

---

You wake to bright fluorescent lights and the sound of a steady beeping noise. There’s also the familiar music of Idia’s favorite idol game playing. Turning your head to the sound, you spot Idia sitting in a chair with his eyes glued to his phone. It’s strange seeing him. Your head feels like mush as you try to gather your thoughts. Your heart throbs painfully for a moment before the feeling fades.

“Idia?” you call him.

He looks up from his screen, eyes widening. “You’re finally awake!”

Trying to piece together the last thing you remember, you ask, “What’s going on?”

“You fell down the stairs to the subway.” He pauses his game. “The doctors said you might be confused. Do you still remember everything?”

Sitting up, you glance at the clock on the wall with a slow nod. “How long was I out?”

“About a day.”

Touching the back of your head, you wince. “Are you sure? I swear it feels like I’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“Yup. You left me a message yesterday. By the way, it’s not a cringe book! Only noobs like you would think that,” he scoffs.

“Book?” Your head feels like a jumbled mess.

He rummages through his backpack before pulling out a familiar book. “The one I lent you. ‘Melting the Dragon King’s Heart’ is a heartfelt strangers-to-friends-to-lovers royal romance! It has everything you could ask for! Evil queen, hot dragon fae, spunky protagonist and a talking cat!”

You take the book from him. Frowning, you stare at the cover. The dragon king looks like a generic dark haired man. Yet, it looks wrong. “Are you sure he always looked like this?”

“What’s wrong with the way Malford looks?” You can see the annoyance in his face.

“Malford? Are you sure that’s his name?” You point to the cover. “I swear he looked different…”

Idia shrugs. “The dragon king is Malford Drago. He’s always looked like that. Yeesh! I know you didn’t like the story but at least pay attention to the main leads.”

When trying to remember, your head throbs painfully. Letting out a deep sigh, you fall back into the pillow. “Maybe I did hit my head harder than I thought…”

Glancing at the time, India starts packing up. “Visiting hours are almost over. I’ll let the nurses know you’re awake and come back tomorrow. Do you want me to bring anything for you?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Idia.” Smiling briefly, you close your eyes as you suddenly feel tired. Even as you drift off again, you feel like something’s missing.

---

A month after your fall down the subway stairs, you’re darting across the street. Dodging cars and people, you shout into the phone pressed to your ear. “I’ll be there in a few hours, Idia! I promise! I just forgot to grab some food.”

“I have food,” he grumbles. You can hear battle music in the background. 

“You have cavity-inducing candy! I need real food!” You skillfully weave your way through the people. “The raid can wait, my stomach can’t. I’ll text you when I’m heading over.” You end the call before Idia can argue further.

Despite going back to your usual routine, something feels off. The doctor had reassured you that you might feel a bit confused, but that you would be fine. You feel like something is missing. When you’re sleeping, you have such vivid dreams. Yet, when you wake up, you can’t recall anything and there’s a painful throbbing in your chest. When you checked with your doctor, they just passed it off as part of your body’s response to the accident. You tried your best to ignore it since then.

Pausing, you realize you’re standing near the subway. The same place where you fell because you weren’t paying attention. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you carefully descend down the stairs. You’re only halfway down when someone bumps into you.

“Hey!” The perpetrator rushes down without looking back.

Grumbling under your breath, you take a step. But your foot misses. You briefly wonder what Idia will say when he finds out you're in the hospital again. However, the fall never comes because the person coming up the stairs reaches out to save you.

Pressed against them, you meet familiar green eyes. They’re wide with surprise. “Are you okay?” Something about the voice sends a spark through your body. You know that voice.

Righting yourself, you frantically nod. “Y-yes! Thank you!”

He smiles. “Of course.” He pauses, brows furrowing. “You’re the one from before.”

“Huh?” You’re pretty sure you’ve never met despite the strange feeling.

He nods. “Yes, I remember. You fell down the stairs a few weeks ago. I tried to catch you but unfortunately didn't make it. I’m glad to see you’re okay, though.”

So he was the voice that called to you when you fell. “I…thank you for catching me this time. I should be more careful.”

When he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Maybe keep both eyes forward. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt again.”

“…” You don’t know what else to say. He’s breathtakingly beautiful and even more so when he smiles. His sharp green eyes are warm when they meet your gaze. You’re usually not the type to fall for a pretty face, but you can’t deny the instant attraction.

He seems to take your silence as the end of the conversation. “It’s nice to see you again. I hope you stay safe.” He nods before heading upstairs.

You stand there on the step frozen. The further he gets, the more your heart aches. Why? Touching your chest, you bite the inside of your cheek. Taking a deep breath, you rush back up. Looking around frantically, you see him already halfway down the street.

“W-wait!” you shout. Phone pressed to his ear, he turns with a slight frown, but his expression softens when he sees you.

You rush across the street, nearly getting hit by a car. They honk loudly while yelling unintelligible out the window. Ignoring them, you rush to him. Trying to calm your erratic heart, you take a deep breath.

“Let me call you back, Lilia,” you hear him say into the phone before ending the call and tucking the phone into his pocket. “Are you okay?” he asks, a single eyebrow raised.

You nod. “I-I wanted to ask if you’d like to grab a drink with me if you’re not busy. To thank you for saving me.” Yes, that sounds like a valid excuse. And it's not like Idia expects you anytime soon.

He tilts his head to the side. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” You swallow nervously. “If you want to, that is…”

He regards you silently before agreeing. “I’d love to.”

Beaming, you hold out your hand. “Great. I’m (Y/N).”

When he takes your hand to shake, butterflies fill your stomach. He eyes your clasped hands with interest. “I’m Malleus,” he replies.

You stand there like an idiot still holding his hand. But he doesn’t seem to want to let go either. Your heart feels full and for the first time since the accident, the pain is no longer there.

Tag list: @candlewitch-cryptic, @whatstheoccasion, @nimko, @yo4sblog, @mc-cos-charm, @mochiclouds, @41sh4, @unloadingdata, @noctifer-cynoct, @rincommittedarsin, @liesatemyocean , @mavix

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Things you can write instead of the 'Y/N wears someone's tee shirt and it's sooo big on her' trope aka ways to avoid fatphobia in your fanfics.

So - this is a discussion I have had on my blog many, many times before. (Not just on this blog, but also on my previous blogs.)

But in general the 'Y/N wearing skinny canon character's shirt' trope (especially if that shirt is described as being 'oversized' on the reader character) - it's a big yikes from me. And it can turn off a lot of potential readers. And in general, it's not very friendly to plus-sized people in the fandom. It is fatphobic, because it automatically describes the reader character's body type as being super petite at worst, and at the very best - they are thin, because stereotypically, most of the popular love interests that we write for are also thin.

So how can you avoid this trope?

Well typically, this trope is used to show intimacy in a relationship. Whether it is used to show FWB upgrading to something more, or used to show comfort and intimacy in a long-standing relationship, usually wearing a love interest's clothing means the same things - comfort, familiarity, and relaxation around this person. Being comfortable enough to share things like their clothing, especially without asking.

So, here are some ways to show intimacy in a relationship without using this tired trope:

Have the characters share clothing or accessories that don't have a set size. Something that is truly 'one size fits all'. This same trope can be done in a size inclusive way using something like a scarf, or a hat, or even jewellery like a necklace - this could work especially well if the character has some kind of signature hat or something that they are known for, and they want their lover to wear it. Personally I think wearing someone's scarf to keep you warm during the winter months is a deep form of intimacy.

Reverse the trope. Have the canon character wear something that belongs to the reader character. It is very size inclusive to say that the canon character is wearing the reader's tee shirt or sweatshirt and it is oversized on them - the reader could be thin and simply buy very large shirts for themselves because they like a big fit, or the reader could be plus-sized and their clothing fits baggy on their lover. It works well in my opinion.

Have one of the characters cook for the other. This is a very easy way to show intimacy - if you want to show their relationship upgrading as more serious in your story, especially if you're going for them upgrading from FWB to more serious lovers, then having one of them cook breakfast for the other after sleeping over is a great way to show that they are getting more emotionally serious about the relationship. Also, in a long-standing relationship, cooking someone's favourite meal is a great, quiet way to show that you know them well and that you care.

Have the characters exchange a key to their home or apartment. There are a lot of steps between declaring a relationship official and marriage, and this is a good one to show your characters participating in. Especially if you want to show them slowly upgrading their intimacy. Or show in your story that they already have a key to their love interest's apartment to show that kind of familiarity and ease in the relationship.

Have the characters use the bathroom together. So many people default to shower sex - but that is not at all practical irl and not something a lot of people actually do. If you want to show real intimacy, show your characters showering together in a non-sexual manner, or show one of them brushing their teeth at the sink while the other is in the shower and show them casually having a conversation while they do it - show that casual nudity means nothing to them, and their routine is always shared. This is a great way to show that familiarity and comfort in a relationship.

Have the characters wear each other's perfume/scent. This is like a size inclusive, non-visual version of the tee shirt trope - having the reader character wearing your love interest's cologne or even their signature scent in the form of a body wash (again, the bathroom thing - if they used the same bath products, then they will smell the same) - have the people around them recognise that they are in a serious, comfortable, long term relationship because they now smell the same. Like an unconscious claiming of the person you love, them always being with you, floating in the air around you.

Idk, this is just a few. But I think there's lots of ways to avoid the trope in fics

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Jealousy (Sihtric Kjartansson x reader)

synopsis: An order from Uthred has Sihtric and you in a situation that is less than to both of your liking, for very seperate reasons. However it also brings to light more than what you were sent there to do.

warnings: Sihtric being jealous (obvi), smut but nothing too graphic, p in v, love confessions, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Thank you @wildchild2707 for the lovely request! I´m sorry it took a bit to actually get to and finish it. I still hope you like it!<3

Dividers by me

You thought it was a bad idea, but when Uthred had come to you the previous night to talk to you about his plans for you and Sihtric to secretly spy on another clan of Danes that had settled to draw the borders between Daneland and the remaining land ruled by Saxons even further, you couldn't deny him. Still, you spend the whole night awake with all sorts of bad feelings swirling in your stomach. It was one thing not to let the others know where you went, but to stage a fight... It wouldn't have been your first choice. The allegiance of the men surrounding you seemed to waver from day to day as it was already. Of course, Uthred wouldn´t hear any of these concerns. According to your leader the clan was prone to violent behaviour just because they could and made up of many different country men. Your knowledge of languages would come in practical according to Uthred, but the prospect of being able to use your knowledge didn´t make you any happier. Instead of planning a staged fight, he should have been planning the attack that wiped out the clan. A deep sigh left your lungs as you sit with the others, waiting for the operation to start. The sound luckily goes unnoticed by Finan and Osferth, who are too busy with their own banter to pay attention to their surroundings. It was driving you crazy. They had fought against Danes alongside women before. What made you so different from them that you weren’t good enough to do something you were easily capable of. At least in his eyes. He had seen you fight and now when he had the chance to harness your power, he was going so far as to even put someone by your side to, what, secure everything would go to plan? Sihtric breaks your line of thought by 'provoking' Uthred, catching the attention of everyone sitting around in the tavern. It was a mess with the two men 'arguing´ while Finan tried to intervene and conciliate them, of course to no avail. After several fruitless attempts you begrudgingly play your part.

“Sihtric.” You call out to him with a firm voice. Surprisingly having his attention immediately. The brown puppy eyes search yours as you continue to speak in a calming tone. “Let us go.”

The two of you make your way away from the ground. Ignoring the off handed comment from somewhere in the crowd about how whipped Sihtric must be to follow you so easily and how you had him henpecked. It made your blood boil and fists clench tightly to be reduced to this caricature of an angry housewife, but you had to prepare for the coming night.

When everyone finally goes to sleep, you sneak to the stables, take your horses and begin the journey to the new camp. It is tough, but you get accepted by them eventually and trusted enough to collect the information you want to get. Yet the longer you stay there, a change settles over your life, that no one could have foreseen.

Your plan going into the mission was to get in get the information and get out. To get involved with anyone as little as possible. If only plans always worked out the way they are supposed to.

Over time, you grew closer to one of the men. He had to be a few years older, yet you found yourself sparring with him often and even outside of that, something akin to the sentiments of a friendship formed between the two of you. Even if it admittedly made Sihtric quite huffy, you felt like Krystof saw you for all of you, there were no lingering or lusting glances or looks of underestimation and that felt nice, it truly did. It was a welcome change, even if the simple sight of it soured not only Sihtric's mood, but also the friendship you had once shared. If one could have called it that before, it surely wasn't anymore now. Discussions of what information you had gathered and steps to take from then on were laced with sarcastic comments of all kinds. Every single one going ignored or being answered by a roll of your eyes. You told him often enough why you were leaning into the affectionate behaviour of some of the men. It is not until one dinner that you get an explanation ass to where these remarks stemmed from.

Krystof and you sat together, eating and talking with your heads close together as to understand each other over the noise of the others, when you catch Sihtric shooting you another one of those sour looks.

“You are aware he is far beyond wanting to simply hump you, right?” Krystof asks with a conspiratorial grin.

“Do not be silly now.” You scold him, but the smile on your face is firm in its place.

“I am not being silly; this is a man deep in love if I have ever seen one. A very jealous one at that.” He insists.

You look over to Sihtric who looks about ready to murder the entire settlement by himself. Quickly and to not raise suspicion, you turn back away from him, but barely get enough time to open your mouth to say something to your new friend, when someone taps you on the shoulder.

“We need to talk.” Sihtric began. The words not a question, but a statement. “Now.”

“Are you feeling well Sihtric? You are quite red in the face.” You noted the state he was in. Breath heaving his chest, fists clenched and a red tint colouring his face.

“Yes, I have never been better. I need to talk to you.” He insists.

“What is this about? You have been behaving so differently ever since we arrived here.” You question the dark-haired man as the two of you enter the empty stables nearby.

“Do you seriously have to ask why?” His answer is more affected and rawer than you would´ve thought it would be, making your heart skip a beat in surprise.

“Would you please just explain it to me?” You ask this time with more insistence.

For a moment there is silence between the two of you while Sihtric is struggling to find the right words.

However, the moment concludes with not a verbal answer, but his rough hands cupping your face and as your eyes widen and your heartbeat accelerates, he pulls you in to press his lips to yours. Expressing every feeling he harbours for you with the touch. It takes a moment to process what is happening, moving you to pull away from him.

“The depth of the affections I have felt for you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you is too far to ever be accurately put into words. Out of respect of your lack of interest in romantic relationships I swore myself to stay away, but seeing you fully lean into the pretty words those men poured into your ear like honey, drives me wild. Tell me, what changed so suddenly?” Sihtric's words are raw with emotion. So much that it would have stunned you, where you a different person.

“Sihtric, you would not have to ask this if you heard the way any of Uhtred’s men talked about women? Even the women who fought along them? We are nothing more than objects in the end. Here I am recognized for the qualities I have, not the ones that men wish I would have. Besides, it got me a ton of information we otherwise might not have gotten at all.” You doubt your words will make much of a change, yet Sihtric seems to always be good for a surprise.

He pulls you close once more, the hold on your body is gentle enough for you to pull away should you wish to, but still firm enough to show his intention.

“If you allow me, I will prove to you that I am not like them.” He whispers against your lips, waiting for a sign of your consent.

Which follows in the form of a nod and a whispered “Yes.”

In the blink of an eye his lips crash onto yours again in what this time is a reciprocated kiss. Your lips move together in perfect synchronisation. Languid movements speak the depth of your affections for each other into the world. Your hands move to wander over his strong upper arms, feeling the muscles tense underneath. All the while the dark-haired man pushes you backwards to lay against the stack of hay, never once breaking the sweet, yet passionate kiss.

Your heart beats wildly against your ribcage, warm breath huffing against his face like his does yours.

“I have dreamt of this forever.” Sihtric muttered.

His hands are all over you. Caressing you with the most reverend touches anyone has ever graced you with, making your heart beat out of your chest as the two of you begin to undress each other slowly. Hands moving over ever inch of skin as it gets exposed. Everything about this moment steals the words and thoughts right from your brain. In truth you had been feeling much the same for him, yet you had never seen a chance for the two of you to be together like this.

“You are a goddess.” Sihtric´s quiet voice in your ear pulls you from the attempt at coherent thought.

His surprisingly soft lips ghost over the shell of your ear, but the tingling is soon overshadowed by his hard length running through your folds to tease before positioning himself at your entrance. With slow, deliberate movements he pushes inside of your tight hole, setting a steady pace. Even the dull feeling of fullness only aids in the conveying of the affection the two of you have for each other. This isn't senseless humping. With expert moves Sihtric brings you closer to climax.

A string of desperate “I love you”´s falls from your lips uncontrollably, like a prayer, voice raw from whining and moaning.

Each one is answered by Sihtric calmingly shushing you as one of his hands caressed your forehead, eventually settling to rest against your cheek.

Your eyes move up to meet his and Sihtric bows his head to lean his forehead against yours.

“I have always loved you.” He mutters breathily.

His lips capture yours to muffle the louder growing whines and whimpers and with steady, deliberate, perfect rolls of his hips, you are made to feel the waves of pleasure crash over you. Your legs tighten behind his back to pull him close as your hips shake and walls flutter until he follows off the edge. Shooting his seed into your cunt until he has no more to give.

The two of you remain there until you hear voices filing out of the hall, basking in the afterglow of your love making and each other’s presence now that the tension had been dissolved. You were aware that there were still things to talk about probably, but now was not the time.

[yanderegrizzsworld]

Heyyy. I just got into the digital circus fandom and I'm HOOKED with how well you write down the characters (even if it's only a few works) Not really a request but I just got an idea to share y'know. What if the Reader found a way to get out of the digital circus but can only transport themselves out, leaving the circus gang behind. What do you think they would be like?

In my opinion I think they would go nuts, because now their friend (and emotional support) is gone and it would increase their risk of getting abstracted.

Anon, I love how generous you are about how you think their abstraction risk levels would merely increase, as if they wouldn't just already abstract by the mere moment the learn the reader somehow managed to leave the circus.

Most of the crew would have a similar reaction, that of initial shock & disbelief. But afterwards, emotions differ slightly between each before an inevitable abstraction happens, but who would be the very first is hard to say.

Characters like Pomni, Ragatha would absolutely deny the possibilities of you escaping at first. How could you escape? More so, How could you escape without them? Why without them? Between the two, it's a pretty close tie on who abstracts first, but I'm of the belief that Ragatha would beat Pomni.

Kinger & Gangle would have a complete mental breakdown by your disappearance. Everyone viewed you as emotional support, but this two in particular made it very obvious that you were their support through this. I can imagine Ragatha attempting (& failing) to keep this two calm while she's trying not to abstract as well, yet their screams & cries echoing all around them is making it very difficult for her to.

Then you have Zooble & Jax, who both show little to no concern about the sudden problem. Hell, Kinger or Ragatha might even call them heartless (they don't actually mean it, they're just full of so many conflicting emotions & thoughts). But they both do care, & they feel just as heartbroken & empty of the fact you've left without even telling any of them. To an extent, they feel slightly at fault, that maybe if they were there for you more, that if they were softer with you, less rude, more open, perhaps you would've stayed? Perhaps you would've turned your back at the opportunity to return to the real world? For them?

Ragatha is already very close to her breaking point by the digital realm & she's my pick for the first one of the crew to abstract first. She's most likely/definitely seen previous performers abstract right before her eyes, any sense of self identity & awareness fully gone by the shatter of the mind. She held on to her self well & seemingly even better with you around! But now? I truly hope deep down she'll be happy to at least see Kaufmo down there, somewhere.

Pomni, I feel like, would ponder if she did something, for you leave without anyone, without her. Did she upset you? Did she annoy you to the point of using the opportunity to escape her? Why didn't you at least leave a letter or something? Her mind, so full of endless questions & what if's, completely consumes her. She won't feel or notice her body shifting & contorting as she abstracts, or maybe she does, & somewhere deep down in her, she feels she deserves it. You were arguably the only reason she didn't abstract yet & she was grateful for that, but now? She'll at least finally meet the other perfomers down there.

Kinger might honestly be the first to abstract the moment such words are uttered out loud. How?! When?! ...Why? Getting him to quit screaming at the top of his lungs will be high feat alone, but keeping him from abstracting? That's close to impossible now. He can at least have the "title" of the oldest & longest lasting performer who's been in the realm without abstracting.

Gangle is, pure & simple, an absolute mess. I don't personally think she'd abstract immediately after hearing the news, but she does become a ticking time bomb until her abstraction. She's very similar to Kinger, only difference is she sobs profusely instead of screaming. She most likely can't find the strength to wear a newly fixed comedy mask, the tragedy mask permanent on her face, regardless of Caine's insistence that she puts on a smile for the "audience".

At first everyone would believe Jax simply didn't care about the fact that you're gone. It wouldn't help his case if he were to say some snarky remark along the lines of how now he has to find a no one but himself to execute his pranks. Whatever he says most likely gets him a slap on the back of his head from Zooble. Yet under all that I don't really care attitude he has, he is just as devastated as the rest, he feels like some form of void has been born within him, everything from astounded to seething to desolate, an ardent & overwhelming collision of emotions that threaten to rip out of him with sick firmness. He feels at fault, he feels he's pushed you too much, made you feel unwanted. His guilt eats him alive, but he won't show it, he can't, he's the "funny asshole" of the crew! He's got a image to uphold here! But sometimes, when no one is around to see, he might knock on your old door or leave something in there, maybe in the hopes you'll return? Reveal it was some sick & unfunny joke on all of them? I feel like he's abstraction would be slow, but when he does, he's much more violent & seems almost desperate, perhaps looking for you?

Zooble is very similar to Jax in the way that their tone & general attitude come off as they don't care. Unlike Jax however, it is possible to see that they are affected by us leaving if one looks closely. Zooble is moodier than usual, quicker to snap at others (especially Jax) & is more adamant at being left alone, yet there's a palpable tint of sadness in their voice –slight cracks even– & when not locked up in their room, their found in areas that we frequented or liked the most. We've essentially become a touchy subject for them & the moment we're brought up, the room becomes a landmine. Their abstraction is also a slow one, yet everyone feels & expects it to come at some point now, when Zooble's ticked off, most back away in fear they'll abstract & attack them. Zooble's incredibly hard to read, & that makes them scary when abstracted.

[flamedraco]

TNT Duo Halloween Bingo

I want to host a TNT Duo fic/art prompt event! Starting from today (October 1) to the end of October 31st!

The prompts are as follows: Shadows Vampires Costume Party Trick or Treat Ghost Demon Witch Folklore Scary Movie Possession Graveyard Zombie Werewolf Full Moon Blood Serial Killer Masquerade Haunted House Fae Haunted Forest Cursed Mirror Painting Familiar

And here are some BONUS PROMPTS (these are just for fun and a bit more detailed than the previous ones): Horror of a Popular Fandom AU: This prompt is when you take an AU that's popular in fandom culture, and you twist it into something horror based. For example, I plan on doing a horror version of a Hannhaki AU. But you can make horror versions of any AU if you try hard enough. Coffee Shop, Flower Shop, Canon Divergence. If the AU is popular and widespread across fandoms as a whole, it can count. Go wild with this one.

Sci-Fi Horror: This one is pretty simple, there is a lot of potential for horror stories when it comes to Sci-Fi elements. Whether you're going with something FNAF inspired or tackling the fear of the unknown with space, there are options.

The Deep Blue Sea: The ocean is a horrifying place and there's a lot of potential for scary spooky shit to happen miles under the surface of the water. This prompt can just be anything involving underwater horror, whether that be ancient eldritch magic and lost cities, or just something large and terrifying that a human can't possibly comprehend in its entirety.

Eldritch: Honestly surprised I didn't think of this when I was coming up with the prompts for the original Bingo sheet itself. This one is very simple, general eldritch horror in whatever form you as a writer or artist or whatever else sees fit. Admittedly there's a lot of room for eldritch shenanigans right there on the board, but consider this a little extra for any creatives who might want a bit more freedom on how and why something is eldritch.

This concludes the bonus prompts.

I meant to post about this event earlier but didn't have the bingo sheet ready until today (thank you Boo from my Discord server who put it together!)

I would like to stress that this is an event for c!TNT Duo, as I do not support William Gold in any way shape or form. I just love the characters and love Halloween so I figured it would be a fun project to work on throughout October.

There's no pressure to participate, nor any real rules other than it being strictly for the characters. Tag your fics and art with "TNT Duo Halloween Bingo". And that you, obviously, cannot have a fanwork count for multiple bingo squares. If it uses two or three of those concepts it can only count for one. Of course, keeping all of them together in a oneshot book or art book or whatever is acceptable, just don't use one fanwork to count for multiple prompts.

There is no prize, this is just meant to be a silly fun thing for anyone who might want some Halloween inspiration for the characters.

Please enjoy!

-Flame Draco