#which of course was it's own wave of nostalgia

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Also, I made a realization today. Today was the first time EVER where I have officially been too stoned to watch a horror film

[fisheito]

You know who you remind me of? Helga Pataki.

Please tell me you (or somebody else) gets the reference 😂

anon u turned my world to static with that namedrop

on the list of things i did NOT expect to happen ,because hUH??: someone dragging [hey arnold] into my tiny nuca inbox

[bykshre]

Sure Thing

charles leclerc x female reader (smau) 2/?

a continuation of WE FOUND LOVE (index)

summary: you and charles were meant to be together even if the media, society and his girlfriend criticized you.

trope: childhood friends to lovers, ferrari driver x head strategist , mean gf (no hate to any of charles' gf's, ex or current.)

a/n: hi hii!! :D charles my amour won in COTA and of course I had to create something out of that. Soo without further todo, i shall introduce to you Sure Thing, part 2 of We found Love! Enjoyyy!! <3

Your thumb hovered over Charles’ Instagram post, reading the simple caption repeatedly, fixating on one specific sentence; "Alex and I have decided to end our relationship".

You felt an unexpected surge of emotions — relief, confusion, excitement.

"This is so sudden", you whispered to yourself though there was no one really beside you.

Alex was heavily popular, APM Monaco made her model for their jewellery, she was signed with influencer management and she even promoted many clothing brands throughout her journey as Charles's girlfriend— she was sort of the IT Wag. However, nobody truly knows what she was, what she did and how she acts when she's away from the monumental stardom and attention she got.

And you opened twitter. Which instantly made you regret your decision.

@F1Gossip:

"BREAKING: Charles Leclerc and Alexandra call it quits! What led to the sudden breakup? Rumors are swirling about Y/N’s involvement… 👀 #F1Drama #CharlesLeclerc"

@AlexandraStans:

"Honestly, good riddance. Alex deserves better than someone who spends all his time with another woman. #TeamAlex #CharlesLeclerc"

@LeclercNation:

"People need to stop blaming Y/N for the breakup. Charles is an adult who made his own decision. #TeamYN #FerrariFamily"

Regardless of whatever you were feeling, you quickly pushed them aside, reminding yourself to not to get sucked into this situation. "Who are you?", you asked yourself, constructing a mental note. You are Charles’ strategist, his friend, and that’s all this was. You did spend hours with him throughout your childhood, of course, you went to school with him, you had sleepovers with the Leclerc brothers, you spent hours in the kitchen with manman gossiping - you were considered the daughter she never had. What have you not done with the Leclercs?

It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight.

Frankly, you've no idea how to bring it up, so you kept a promise to not bring it up and you didn’t. You appreciate the week off without any races — it brought you away from everything. You wanted to keep your mind off things and give some time to yourself. And that's exactly what you did.

ursername

time-off 🤍🐻‍❄️🪽🍸

liked by mlnmarta, charles_leclerc, joristrouche and 2.8M others

lewishamilton enjoy, yn! lets get some almave next time ya?

⤷ ursername omg yes lewsss!! 🍸🍸

charles_leclerc 🩷 see you next week, ynie!

⤷ ursername indeed char 🤍🩷

mlnmarta boubou is missing you, come back soon!! 🤱

⤷ ursername u and me in singapore? it's a definite yes😘😘

alexfanpage look at this homewreker, fucking bitch! 😡😡

⤷ illpresidanto omg get a life!! you so pressed for no reason u ugly bitch

19765K likes

🌟

It was a sunlit afternoon in Monaco, where Marta and Riccardo were celebrating the upcoming arrival of their second child. The garden was decorated with a mix of blue and white balloons, creating a cheerful, celebratory atmosphere. Close friends, family, and little Chiara, who was already running around like a whirlwind, were all present.

You wore a pink dress, your hair tousled on your shoulders, favouring another baby girl while Charles was wearing a blue t-shirt accompanied with a blue bandana — something you haven't seen him wear for the past 2 years. It felt different seeing him wear that bandana, it evoked old memories between the both you. You were brought with a wave of nostalgia where you used to go live with Charles on Twitch racing each other on the sim during the Covid-19 era.

You're a sucker for nostalgia

When you first spot Charles at Marta and Riccardo's gender reveal party, you can't help but pause for a moment. He's standing casually near the edge of the garden, his relaxed posture and easy smile making him the center of attention without even trying. His blue bandana was tied loosely around his head. The way the sunlight catches his hair, tousled from the bandana, adds a soft glow around him. He’s talking to a group of friends, but when his eyes meet yours from across the garden, there's a brief flicker of recognition.

As Chiara ran over to you, her arms outstretched, you quickly scooped the little girl up into your arms — pampering her with your soft kisses. “Hey there, sweetheart!” you cooed, smiling warmly at the giggling toddler. Chiara clung to you, pointing toward the food table, eager to see what was there.

Charles watched the both you from a distance, carrying two glasses of sparkling water. As you looked up at him, you couldn't help but tease, “She’s already stealing the spotlight from you.”

Charles grinned, handing you a glass. “It’s alright, I’ll always be her favorite godparent. She just needs a little time to realize I’m the cool one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you’re telling yourself?”

Charles shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Hey, it’s working. I’m planning to spoil her with all the toys.”

You smirked. “Bribery isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘parenting,’ Charles.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing, “Good thing I’m not a parent yet.”

As the countdown for the big reveal began, everyone gathered in the garden around Marta and Riccardo. You and Charles stood together, chatting quietly about the possible gender.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a girl,” you said, eyes glancing toward Marta. “Marta’s been mentioning how much she wants a sister for Chiara.”

Charles shook his head, his hands on your shoulder. “I think you’re wrong, honey. Riccardo’s been too quiet—he’s definitely preparing for a boy.”

"I'll prove you wrong today, Miss Strategist," he smirked

"You'll never it's definitely a——"

The moment arrived. The large balloon in front of Marta and Riccardo burst, releasing a cascade of blue confetti. Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Chiara clapped her hands in delight as she was handed to Marta.

“It’s a boy!” Riccardo exclaimed, lifting his daughter into the air, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. Marta smiled brightly, holding Chiara close to her chest, both parents absolutely overjoyed.

“I called it,” Charles whispered, nudging you with his elbow.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that. But I guess I’m going to have to learn to spoil a little boy now.”

"And you're proven wrong, y/n," he said while erupting in happiness

"Fuck off Charles!" you said as you roll your eyes

Later in the day, after the excitement had died down, you and Charles found yourselves in a quiet corner of the garden, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. you were holding Chiara, who had fallen asleep in your arms, while Leo lay at Charles' feet, content and relaxed.

“You know, you’re really good with her.”

You glanced up at him, eyes soft. “She’s easy to love.”

Charles watched you for a moment, his gaze lingering on the calm scene in front of them.

“I think you’d make an amazing parent,” he said, his voice quiet.

You smiled, though you didn’t fully respond to his comment. Instead, you gently brushed Chiara’s hair from her face. “Maybe one day.”

charles_leclerc

team boy!! 🩵🌟

liked by mlnmarta, riccardoberreta, joris_trouche,ursername,landonorris

ursername baby chichi <3

liked by author

mlnmarta mi bebe~

joris_trouche 🩵

alexandrafp no alex and u look like shit!

alexamour wheres that bitch Y/N??

ursername

mon lion et ma petite filleule

liked by charles_leclerc, mlnmarta,oscarpiastri and 3M others

charles_leclerc adorable

lewishamilton soo cute!

mlnmarta my 👶

joris_trouche who took this pic🤭

@FerrariInsider:

"Sources close to the team say Charles and Y/N have been spending more time together since the breakup. Could something more be brewing between them? 👀 #F1Gossip"

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

COTA GRAND-PRIX, AUSTIN, TEXAS.

ursername

story, 4h ago

Looking sharp out there 👀 Let’s keep it smooth this weekend, @ charles_leclerc. 🏎️✨

As Charles arrived at the garage for practice, he seemed relaxed, as if nothing had changed. So, you followed his lead, keeping things as normal as possible. Talking about Alex was the least of your concerns, you were more concerned about how Charles was coping and when you saw him being his usual bubbly and annoying self —you knew this relationship was long to be called off. Then again, this is the Charles Leclerc, the homie hopper, the playboy- you've seen it all. He's messy in relationships and that scares you, so much. Yet, you're treated so differently and you wonder why.

After FP1, Charles and Carlos stroll into their garages to rewind and reflect with the team to consult tyre management, degradation and qualifying strategies.

As Charles unlocked his phone, his thumb instinctively swiped to Instagram to catch up on the latest updates. A burst of laughter escaped him as he saw a story from his head strategist, who had tagged him in it.

“Looking sharp, huh? Not bad for just a practice session.” He said to Y/N who was sitting beside him.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Leclerc. You still have a lot to prove this weekend,” you said sternly,

“A lot to prove? I thought I already impressed the toughest critic on the team.”

“I’m a strategist, Charles. Being impressed is temporary — results are what matter,” you said

“So, if I get results, will you post something even nicer?” he said, giving her his winning smirk

“Win the race, and I’ll think about it.”

🌟 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

As the sprint race ends, Charles strolls into the garage, his helmet tucked under his arm. Y/N is standing by the monitors, reviewing the data.

Charles: “You’re awfully quiet today. Everything okay, strategist?”

Y/N doesn’t look up immediately, keeping her focus on the screen. “Just making sure you’re as sharp as I said you were. No pressure, though.”

Charles smirks, leaning casually against the desk beside her. “I’m starting to think you enjoy putting pressure on me.”

Y/N finally glances at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “If it makes you faster, then maybe I do.”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Y/N tilts her head. “You’d know if you were. For now, just focus on not going wide into Turn 11 again.”

Charles groans playfully. “That’s never happening again. You’ll see.”

Y/N: “Good. I like being right.”

Scuderia Ferrari HP

@charles_leclerc is working hard tonight with the team 🏎 ❇

liked by ursername,ggiada,mlnmarta,riccardoberreta and 5M others

ursername one of the rarest times i see mr leclerc staying overtime! mind-boggling indeed

⤷ charles_leclerc gosh you are annoying

oscarpiastri the dedication 👨

charles_leclerc y/n's fault!

lewishamilton keep it up bud!

After the debrief and post-practice meetings, you're walking back to your hotel, laptop bag slung over your shoulder. The paddock is quiet now, with only a few people milling about under the warm Austin night sky.

“Hey, strategist.”

She turns to find Charles jogging to catch up with her, still in his Ferrari polo and cap.

“Shouldn’t you be resting? I thought you went back? You’ve got qualifying tomorrow.”

Charles falls into step beside you, hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I could say the same to you. What’s keeping you out so late?”

You shrug. “Notes. Data. Making sure we’re perfect tomorrow.”

“We’re perfect, huh?” He glances at you with a teasing smirk.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t let it go to your head. It’s my job to make sure you don’t mess it up.”

“Ah, so you’re saying you’re the brains, and I’m just the guy driving the car?”

you finally stop walking and turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re finally catching on.”

For a moment, they just look at each other. The playful banter fades into a quiet intensity. Charles’ gaze softens, and Y/N feels her pulse quicken under the weight of his attention.

Charles: “You know, you’re pretty incredible.”

“Charles…” she starts, but he cuts her off with a soft laugh.

“Relax, strategist. Just giving credit where it’s due.”

You shake your head, “Save the charm for the press conferences. You’ll need it when they grill you tomorrow.”

“Right. Gotta stay focused.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Don’t stay up too late. Wouldn't want my stargirl to get sick.”

You chuckle softly as you walk into your room, catching his eye as he waves from across the hallway, stepping into his room just opposite yours.

RACE DAY

The morning sun was barely filtering through the high windows of the hotel lobby as Charles stood near the entrance, checking his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. His nerves were on edge—not because of the race, but because today felt different.

Just as he was about to check his phone again, he saw you.

You stepped into the lobby, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. The buzz of the hotel faded away. You were wearing a dress unlike any other—simple yet striking. It was a fitted black satin dress, hugging your figure perfectly and stopping just above your knees. The neckline was deep enough to tease but still elegant, and the fabric shimmered under the light as if it were made to capture every glance.

you were unaware of the way you had completely captured his attention, you walked towards him with a confident, almost teasing smile. You could feel the tension in the air, but she wasn’t sure if it was just the race day energy or something more.

“Morning, Charles,” you said, your voice warm

“You… you look…”

Your smile widened, though there was a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Thanks. I wanted to make sure you had something to look forward to after the race.”

Charles chuckled softly, the sound low and almost nervous, his eyes scanning over you once again. The dress clung to your body in all the right ways, and his thoughts were running wild. “You’re distracting me,” he said with a grin, taking a small step toward you.

Charles reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, the touch sending a shock through his system. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes again.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected this reaction from him. Sure, he was always flirty with you but this past week seemed a little different.

“Shall we?” he asked

“Lead the way,” she said

Charles led you through the hotel lobby, his hand lightly resting on the small of your back as you two walked toward the exit. His touch was soft, almost protective, but you could feel the weight of it. It wasn’t just a gesture—it was more.

When you reached the car, a sleek Ferrari SF90 in all its glory, Charles opened the passenger side door for you.

“After you,” Charles said with a playful grin.

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat as she slid into the car, the cool leather of the seat pressing against you as you settled in. You glanced over at Charles as he slid into the driver’s seat, his movements smooth and confident. The way he adjusted the rearview mirror, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel—it all seemed like a quiet dance between you both like everything was aligning.

Charles started the engine, the powerful rumble filling the space between them. He looked over at you, a small smile playing on his lips as they began their journey to the track.

“So,” he began, trying to keep the mood light, “Are you ready for today?”

You leaned back in the seat, gaze wandering to the window for a moment as the city passed by. “I think you’re the one who should be ready for today,” you teased, glancing back at him with a knowing smile. “You’re going to have a lot of eyes on you.”

Charles laughed softly, but there was a nervous edge to it. “That’s nothing new.” He shifted the car smoothly, maneuvering through the streets. “But it’s different when you’re here, you know?” His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. “Having you here makes it… better.”

You weren’t sure if he meant it in the way you wanted to believe, but the sincerity in his voice made you feel something she hadn’t expected.

“It’s always been different,” she said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“I’ve always been here for you, Charles. I always will be.”

Charles glanced over at you, his expression softening. “I know. And I’m grateful for that.” His hand briefly brushed against yours on the gearshift, sending a jolt through you, and he didn’t pull away. For a moment, it was just the two of you, the world outside the car fading away.

When they arrived at the track, the noise of the race weekend came rushing back.

He looked over at you, his gaze lingering for a moment, his thoughts seemingly racing. Then, with a slow exhale, he opened the door and stepped out, walking around to your side of the car. He opened the door for you, just like before, but this time, it felt different.

As you stepped out of the car, Charles was already there, his hand extending to help steady you, though it wasn’t needed. You didn’t take his hand immediately, but the way he watched you, the way his eyes stayed on you with such intensity, made your heart flutter.

“You look even more stunning in the daylight,” he said, his voice lower now, the playful teasing replaced with something more genuine.

You met his gaze, lips curving into a soft smile. “Thanks, Charles,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

formulaone

Charles Leclerc steps into the track alongside his strategist, Y/N today! Charles is starting P4 today - let's see what we'll get with Ferrari, especially with the upcoming title battle with McLaren! Today's going to be interesting.

liked by mlnmarta,joris_trouche, and 4M others

alexandrafp seriously charles it;s only been 2 weeks since you broke up with alex and you're taking y/n around in your car? wtf!

⤷ charlesfp y/n is charles childhood best friend , besides alex was toxic enough that he couldn't spend time with yn!

⤷ ynstrategistupdates frr- yn and charles have always stepped into the track together before this, where is your brains?

⤷ yndefender please what?! charles had ENOUGH with alex past 2 years! stfu and leave the sport if you're only invested in WAGS!

@F1Fanatic

"Okay, but Charles and Y/N arriving together in his Ferrari SF90 and the way he held her hand to help her out of the car??? Gentleman of the year 🥺🔥 #CharlesLeclerc #F1"

@TifosiForever

"Y/N in that dress??? Charles could barely keep his eyes off her. You’re telling me this is just ‘driver and strategist’ behavior? 😏 #Ferrari #COTAGP"

@GrandPrixGossip

"Did anyone else notice how Charles waited for Y/N at the lobby this morning? She’s clearly more than just a strategist to him. 👀 #F1Drama #LeclercNation"

@F1Moments

"The way Charles just casually said ‘I drive better when I know you’re watching’ to Y/N in the garage?? Sir, the cameras are ON. #SlowBurn #CharlesAndYN"

@FerrariInsider

"People are saying Charles and Y/N are just friends, but friends don’t exchange those kinds of looks before a race. 🫣 #F1LoveStory #CharlesLeclerc"

@F1Editz

"Charles Leclerc and Y/N arriving at COTA this morning >>> any romcom scene ever filmed. The chemistry is unreal. 😍 #F1Romance"

@LeclercNation

"If Charles wins today, it’s 100% because Y/N is his good luck charm. Someone check the stats on her presence at his podiums! 🏆❤️ #F1CoupleGoals"

womeninformulaone

Ferrari's Head of Strategy, Ms YN arrives on the COTA paddock alongside Ferrari's Charles Leclerc today. She is wearing a beautiful fitted navy blue dress. Let's see what she pulls off in today's race! 🏎 ❇

liked by carmenmundt,hannahstjohn,ursername,charles_leclerc and 8M others

ynsfp who is this DIVA?

alexfp cunning witch

⤷ charlesfp you should've been banned by now! Why do people like you still exist??

ursername WOW haha featured by this page? I thought this page was just for WAGs, never thought WOMEN in MOTORSPORTS could've been featured.

80K likes

RACE

The track energy was high as the team prepared for the race. Charles stepped into his car after having his debrief with his engineer, Bryan, Fred and of course, you- adjusting his helmet and getting settled in the cockpit. You stood by, watching till the clock hits 12.

Least to say, you were feeling nervous. But when do you not go through a whirlwind of emotions when you see your best-friend driving at 200-300km/h for 2 hours? Formula One is not a just a sport— if not done meticulously it'd be fatal.

Not were you only nervous on that but as a strategist yourself, you are afraid of letting the team down with ridiculous pits and scenarios which scares you. You weren't responsible for what happened at Montreal nor were you responsible for the mishaps this year. But as a woman in motorsports where women are highly downgraded and treated not well — you were determined to make a change in this sport where misogyny has no place and uplift young girls to dominate this world of motorsports.

As you sit on your chair at the pit-wall, you laugh as you remembered your last conversation with Charles making you shake your head.

“I’m going to win today.”

“Confident, are we?”

Charles: “When you’re the one calling the shots, how could I not be?”

There was multiple times where Charles would've said that and not win. So him being overconfident made you remember those moments. However, you always wanted your best-friend, Charles to win every single race if you could. You both grew up dreaming about winning the constructors championship for Ferrari and here you are together working together.

Life is so unexpected and magical.

The Circuit of the Americas roared with excitement as the lights went out, marking the start of the Austin Grand Prix.

As Max and Lando fought aggressively into Turn 1, their cars went wide, forcing both drivers to compromise their exits. This split-second miscalculation opened the door for Charles and Carlos Sainz, who took full advantage. Charles made an audacious dive on the inside, slipping past not just Max and Lando but also gaining a crucial edge over his Ferrari teammate.

Suddenly, Charles found himself in P1 by the end of the first corner, with Carlos right behind him. The commentators were stunned by his opportunistic brilliance:

"Leclerc from P4 to P1! That’s unbelievable! What a move from the Ferrari driver!"

"His race-starts are on point, isn't it?", you ask Fred

"He's definitely perfected it," Fred replied

From that point on, Charles showcased a masterclass in race control. Lap after lap, he extended his lead with precision and consistency. While chaos unfolded behind him, with Max and Lando locked in a fierce battle for P3, Charles focused on maintaining a steady rhythm.

Even the pit stops—often Ferrari’s Achilles’ heel—were flawless. When Charles came in for his stop on Lap 18, the team delivered a lightning-quick turnaround, allowing him to rejoin the track without losing his lead.

"Just keep it steady, Charles. You’re doing an amazing job," his race engineer said over the radio.

"Copy. Let’s bring it home," Charles replied, his voice calm but determined.

As the final lap unfolded, the crowd at COTA erupted in cheers. Charles crossed the finish line with a commanding lead, having led every lap of the race—a feat that underscored his strategic brilliance and racecraft.

"YESSS! Let’s go, ragazzi! What a race!" Charles yelled over the team radio, his joy evident.

As the garage burst into cheers and celebrations, someone nudged your shoulder. “He’s going to be insufferable after this,” one of the engineers teased, and you laughed, shaking her head.

“I think he’s earned it,” you replied softly, unable to hide the affection in your voice

His team congratulated him on a flawless performance, and the commentators lauded his exceptional drive

Leclerc didn’t just win today—he dominated. From P4 to P1 by the first corner and never looked back. This was a perfect race from the Ferrari driver."

Your hands trembled as you lowered the headset, a wide grin spreading across your face. Pride swelled in your chest, almost overwhelming. You clapped along with the team but couldn’t shake the warmth bubbling inside you. This wasn’t just a win for Ferrari. This was a win for him

In Parc Fermé, Charles leaped out of his car, visibly elated. The Ferrari garage was a sea of red, celebrating what was undoubtedly one of their best performances of the season. Charles hugged his team members before making his way to the podium.

You had tears visible flowing down your cheek- they call it the happy tears. Your heart beaming in joy and proud.

You wanted to run out there and hug him, tell him how incredible he was. But instead, you stayed rooted, heart pounding, waiting for him to arrive in Parc Fermé

As the Monegasque driver stood on the top step, the Monegasque national anthem echoed through the Austin sky, marking a moment of triumph for both Charles and Ferrari.

As he made his way to the podium, you stayed back, watching him from the sidelines. Your heart was full, pride immeasurable. You pulled out your phone, snapping a quick photo of him standing on the top step of the podium, champagne in hand, the Monegasque flag behind him.

The camera's were all on you, Ferrari and Charles — capturing the special moment that will last an eternity.

@F1Fans: "Charles Leclerc’s drive today was a masterpiece. Calm, calculated, and utterly dominant. Driver of the day, no question."

@LeclercNation: "From P4 to P1 by Turn 1, and he never gave up the lead. Charles Leclerc is a star! #AustinGP #TeamLeclerc"

@F1Memes: "Max and Lando fighting each other in Turn 1: 'This is fine.' Charles: 'Don’t mind if I do.' #Masterclass"

@FerrariOfficial: "Victory in Austin! Charles Leclerc secures the win with an exceptional performance. A day to remember for Scuderia Ferrari! #ForzaFerrari #CharlesLeclerc"

ursername

story, 5mins ago

What a drive. Proud of you @Charles_Leclerc

When Charles returned to the garage, still beaming, he sought you out immediately.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the noise.

You turned, laughing softly at the sight of him—his race suit slightly damp from the champagne, his hair a mess, and his face glowing with happiness.

“That was incredible,” you said as he approached, eyes sparkling with pride. “You didn’t just win—you owned that race.”

He grinned, a little bashful despite the confidence he’d displayed on track. “You think so?”

“Charles,” you said, stepping closer, voice dropping slightly. “I think the whole world knows so. That was a masterclass.”

His grin turned softer, more genuine. “Means a lot coming from you.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, just the buzz of the team celebrating in the background.

“You owe me dinner,” you teased, breaking the tension. “You promised if you won.”

He smirked, his signature charm returning. “Guess I better make it special, then. For someone who’s apparently my lucky charm.”

You rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the warmth creeping up her cheeks. “Don’t get used to it, Leclerc.”

“Oh, I’m already used to it.” His tone was playful, but there was something deeper in his gaze, something unspoken.

@F1Updates:"What a dominant win by Charles Leclerc today at the Austin GP. From P4 to P1 by Turn 1 and never looked back. #CharlesLeclerc #AustinGP"

@F1FanGirl:"Did anyone see Y/N’s story? That caption! She’s so proud of him, and honestly, same. #CharlesAndYN"

@GossipGrid:"Y/N spotted in the Ferrari garage during Charles’ win. These two are definitely giving ‘something’s going on’ vibes. 👀 #F1Drama #CharlesLeclerc"

@FerrariOfficial:"Victory is red! 🏆 Congratulations to Charles Leclerc on a flawless drive at COTA. #ForzaFerrari #AustinGP"

charles_leclerc

Another one . The team have done such an incredible job recently and it's paying off, so happy we achieved a 1-2. Thanks to everybody for the massive support too, always special to come back to the US.

liked by ursername,scuderiaferrari,joris_trouche and 10M others

maxvertsappen1 amazing masterclass bro

lewishamilton always amazing to see young generational talents winning🥇

ursername well done leclerc! 🥇

ursername

merci charles, you proved yourself right, you earned this win with pure talent and crafted art- to more wins!

liked by mlnmarta,charles_leclerc,maxverstappen1,lewishamilton and 6M others

charles_leclerc finally got a good caption huhuu

scuderiaferrari cota will be in the books!

anthoinethrouchet amazing job charles, merci y/n!

@LeclercNation:"THAT race win. THAT walk back. Charles texting someone during the press conference. Coincidence? We think not. #CharlesAndYN "

@F1Gossip:"Y/N was glowing after Charles’ win. And the way he kept looking at her? We need answers, stat. #F1Tea"

You two stepped into the elevator, the hum of the machinery filling the quiet. Charles leaned against the wall, glancing at you.

“You didn’t stick around for the real celebration,” he teased, his voice low.

You smirked, arms crossed. “I figured you’d be too busy soaking up all the glory.”

Charles tilted his head, his lips curving into that signature smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe I was saving it for someone more important.”

Her heart skipped, but you rolled your eyes, playing it cool. “Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Only when it works,” he shot back smoothly, the elevator dinging open just in time.

As he stepped out, he glanced back at you with a small grin. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Charles,” you whispered as the doors slid shut.

all rights reserved @bykshre

[beefycupcakes]

I watched the Cars trilogy recently and with that came a wave of nostalgia and a strange desire to make my own designs for the cars as humans. Aka taking all the charm out of Cars but scratching the brain itch.

So, no need to drag out the intro any longer, I have some notes written out about em for those who might be interested or just bored.

Lightning McQueen:

I tried to make his suit look as professional as possible, with references pulled straight from McQueen's paint job/stickers, while also keeping in mind that I do intend to draw him more so I didn't want to go too crazy with the design. In a perfect world I would've let my maximalist cravings win, but alas let's keep it digestible for my sanity.

I feel like everyone's kinda on this unspoken agreement that McQueen as a human would pretty much look just like Owen Wilson, and that's the big picture here. I used Wilson as inspiration while tweaking and exaggerating a few things to my preference. (Okay, well not everyone, lmao.)

The chevron markings on the front cut off at the side seams not wrapping around the entire suit as to not clash with the sponsor logo on the back.

Also, he's wearing special gloves to help him grip & have control over the steering wheel. I think sometimes that looks a little weird when his sleeves are down & cuffed, but I just feel like he needs to have the gloves there— especially when he comes out of the top half of the suit. (It's also lowkey supposed to mirror his 4 tires when you consider his shoes are also black.)

So yeah, that's basically all I have to to say regarding Lightning McQueen's page. I feel like a lot of my design choices are self explanatory and, honestly probably shared universally... I mean, he's really cut & dry. (But I love him ⚡︎)

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Mater:

I'm not gonna lie, Mater was a bit challenging for me. I definitely had to step out of my comfort zone but I wanted to stay true to the character and not butcher anything.

My first thought was to give him a fishing pole to substitute for the tow hook— but then the more I was thinking about it, the more that felt so... out of place? Radiator Springs is in Arizona, which is (not entirely, but mostly depicted in the movie as) a desert. And even though there are beautiful bodies of water in Arizona, in the movie I don't recall seeing any prominent ones, at least in relation to Mater. So, scratch that, instead I gave him a lasso, which isn't supposed to entirely substitute for the tow truck— no, he still drives a tow truck, but the lasso is so he can grab people/things similarly to Tow Truck Mater (very cartoony). My explanation for this is the cattle ranch. Yeah, Mater is a tow truck driver but perhaps he has a side hustle, or hobby, if you will.

Also, I didn't want to make him... dirty(??) Like, yeah, of course, Mater would obviously get a bit filthy from time to time, it's just in his nature, but that is NOT going to be the core of my design. In regards to the rust happening on him, I felt like instead I would substitute this with being very tan. Again, Arizona is a desert. Because of this, he would take off his shirt often, and this would substitute for the missing hood like on Tow Truck Mater. The removal of the shirt also reveals just how tan Mater actually is.

It's his uniformed overalls that have his original aqua color, but from years of wear & tear they've been patched up with brown patches, this would also reference the rusting. The one strap is supposed to mimic the one headlight being broken, and I know that's a stretch, believe me, I wanted to do something with his eyes but eyes are not the headlights in the Cars universe..... think about this. Think about it really hard... if you know what the headlights are in the Cars universe then this actually makes perfect sense.

He is taller and wider than McQueen, which is a reference to the literal frame of their vehicle counterparts. (A little hard to picture with these images, but eventually I'll draw them together!)

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That's all I have to say really, but do let me know what you guys think! Gas it up and it might encourage me to make a part 2 with some of the other characters! Who would you like to see next? ♡ Thank you so much for reading & have a great day, Kachow!!

[miley1442111]

hiii!! i was wondering if you would maybe wanna write a Chef Luca x reader that takes place at the Ever funeral (they met there) and they get to tell everyone that they are engaged? that would be very cute i think

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time after time- chef luca

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a/n: thank you so much for requesting, I loved this idea and maybe got a little carried away... :)

summary: a look in at your life with luca

pairings: chef luca x fem! reader

warnings: kissing, cursing, smut (18+) (piv, oral (f reciving), fighting, anxiety, brief mention of vomit, reader gets hurt, blood, talk of injuries and stitches (i think that's it??)

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As you walked into the Ever funeral, you couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia hit you like a wave. This was where you’d learnt to cook, where you met some of your best life-long friends, and of course, Luca. As you looked at the halls you’d known so well, you couldn’t help but think about your time there, and how it had impacted you, in every way. 

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Your first day…

You walked in ten minutes early. You were supposed to be twenty minutes early, if you hadn’t had to stop and vomit before you left your new apartment. Chicago was growing on you, though you were surprised at how cold it truly got there, since you’d been living in Spain for the past couple of years. You walked through the halls, everything new, as you greeted fellow students/ chefs. Everyone knew who you were, you were supposed to be a rising star in the food world, winning the ‘Rising Chef Award’ that year for your work in Azurmendi restaurant, a michelin star restaurant in Spain. You were supposed to be the best, so when people found out you weren’t, they would have a fucking field day. 

Carmen Berzatto was quiet, but he was the person you clicked with the most. Clearly the mentally disturbed got along well, that's what you two said anyways. 

Luca was a fucking prick. He was the cockiest of cocky pieces of shit, he was acting like he owned the place, and better yet, he was fucking stunningly gorgeous. You turned to your new friend, Gilian as she swooned over the British accent, tattoos, and built arms. 

The day went by smoothly, hitting it off with other chefs in the group, but never really getting close enough to Luca to really see anything other than his cocky smirks and party-boy aura. You loved Ever already, and you were excelling. You got put with Gillian as your partner, and Carm was put with Luca, and though they both tried to switch, no one would take the other, so they were forced to deal with it. 

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Your first week…

Luca and Carmen were a match made in hell. They politely threw digs at each other right under Chef Andrea’s nose, and when they were caught, she was too fond of the both of them to actually punish them. You’d learnt that Carm had a great way of getting people to do the things he wanted them to, aka, screaming at the top of his lungs, and Luca was slower than Carm, which meant they were both equally as insufferable as each other. Like you said, match made in hell. 

You stayed late one night, trying to perfect a recipe you were supposed to send back to Azurmendi. It was beating your ass, every single time it just felt wrong. Like something was missing. 

You watched in horror as Luca walked into the kitchen, his apron on and a bowl of pastry dough in his hands. 

God, this was going to be a long night. 

“What are you making?” He asked, kneading the dough. 

“Just something for Azurmendi,” you mumbled, not exactly wanting this conversation to progress. Some of the girls had been complaining about his ‘asshole behaviour’ but what they really meant was that he was handsome and didn’t want to go out with them. 

“Can I see?’ he asked, and you nodded slowly, moving out of the way of the dish to let him try it. 

It was a deconstructed caramelised banana pudding with raspberry compote that was still missing something. He walked around the counter, his eyes on you the whole time as you absorbed yourself in the plate. It looked beautiful, but did it taste good? You’d tried a hundred and one things with it, strawberry compote, vanilla sauces, mango, everything. This was your last resort. 

He looked at the plater, moving it around to get different angles. It was a stunning presentation, he couldn’t lie. “What does it taste like?”

You shrugged. He chuckled. 

“What?” he chuckled. “Are you messing with me?”

You shook your head. “I don’t like bananas, or raspberries,” you shrugged. “You taste it and tell me.” 

He was in shock when you handed him a spoon. “You’re sure?” and you nodded.

He dug in, tasting the banana pudding, with the caramel, and the raspberry compote and… it was delicious. Probably the best thing he’d ever eaten, and from the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. See, you wouldn’t know this until years later but since the first day, he’d been looking at you. He’d wanted nothing more than to even be friends with you, he didn’t even know he;d one day become your boyfriend, then your fiancé, and soon, your husband. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

You smiled softly. “You sure?”

“Best thing I’ve ever eaten, hands down,” he nodded, taking another spoon. 

You chuckled. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, trust me, I’m not,” he said, shovelling another spoon into his mouth. “You mind if I finish this?” He asked, mouth full of the dessert. Usually stuff like that would make you gag, but Luca made it funny. You found yourself laughing. “Luca,” he smiled, holding out his hand for you to take once he’d finished his meal. 

“Y/n,” you smiled. 

“You’re really impressive, I’ve seen your stuff. I’d love to pick your brain about Azumendi, if you wouldn’t mind me geeking out about you for a few hours?” He smiled. He was pretty charismatic, and pretty well… pretty. 

“Sure,” you nodded. “When are you free?”

“Saturday night? I know this great restaurant nearby,” He smiled. 

“I’m free Saturday night,” you nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Sounds like a date to me!” Chef Andrea called from behind you two as she walked in. You two jumped apart, despite being pretty far apart to begin with. 

“I-um-you didn’t- it doesn't have to be-” you stumbled over your words as Luca watched with a crooked smile on his face. 

“It's a date,” he cut you off. “Unless you don’t want it to be.” 

You nodded. “Then I think it’s a date,” you smiled. 

Luca was sure to thank Andrea the next day. 

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Saturday night…

You got out of your chef white’s the second you got home and straight into getting ready for the date that was forty-five minutes away. You did your makeup, got dressed, then waited by the door for Luca. 

The doorbell rang and there he was, pink shirt, black slacks and that same Luca smile. He looked you up and down and smiled. “God you’re fucking gorgeous.”

You felt yourself heat up at his comment. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He smiled wider and off you went to Lorenzo’s, an Italian spot near Ever. 

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The night went off perfectly, he was sweet, funny, and he actually listened to you as you geeked out about food and restaurants and everything in between. Luca was great. 

When he dropped you back off at your apartment, you were laughing so hard you almost fell over, he caught you by the waist, pulling you into his as he chuckled. 

You didn’t realise how close he was until you noticed his breath on your cheek. Soon, the laughing was softened to sweet smiles, and he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly, much softer than you'd imagined. His lips were sweet, still tasting of the berry dessert you’d shared after your delicious meal. You pull back, a shocked smile on your face.

“I really like you,” he admitted, blushing. “And I really want to take you out again.”

You smiled. “I’d really like that.”

His face lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. He let go of you, watching as you unlocked your apartment door. 

“Bye,” he smiled. You couldn’t resist, you pressed your lips to his again as his hands circled your waist and yours went to mess up his hair. 

“Bye,” you called after you pulled away, turning to go inside. He looked so good like that, lips red, hair slightly tousled, shocked look on his face. It was nice. He was nice. 

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One month in… 

Luca watched you as you walked into the kitchen, talking with Chef Andrea as she asked about the dish you had made in Azurmendi. He thought you were gorgeous, his eyes were always drawn to you in every room. The past month had been full of dinner dates, getting lunch, and sometimes meeting up for breakfasts before work. He was falling in love with you, and he knew it. Everything about you made him want to know more, to spend more time with you, to be with you. Granted, he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, but all that would change today. He’d decided that on your usual lunch break, he’d ask you to officially be his girlfriend. That was the right thing to do, right? 

“You good man?” Carmen asked, chewing much too loud in Luca’s opinion. 

“Fine,” he answered, finally out of his trance. 

Carmen stared at him for a moment. “You good?”

“Good Chef,” he nodded. 

“Cause it looks to me that you’re staring at Chef Y/n,” he observed. “And that means your head isn’t in the kitchen. Is your head not in the kitchen, Chef?”

“My head is as firmly in the kitchen as yours is up your ass Carm,” Luca retorted before leaving to grab his ingredients for the day. Carmen Berzatto was a dick, Luca had no idea what you saw in him as a friend. 

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You were cutting, the same as always. Then you felt the familiar nudge that CArm had been giving you in recent weeks, just a friendly tap on the back as he passed behind you. Then there was a knife in your hand. “Fuck!” More specifically, there was a huge gash in your hand. 

Everyone’s eyes shot up, all attention on you. No one moved as you grabbed your hand, blood gushing as your eyes welled up. You crouched down, holding your hand in pain. 

“Y/n-” Carm tried but Luca was quick to swoop in, kneeling beside you. 

“Are you alright? Come on, let’s go,” he held you as he led you out of the kitchen. He held you close, practically carrying you as he put you into his car, rushing you to A&E. 

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Some stitches, a lot of bandages, and a blood bag later (you’d lost a lot), you were discharged and exhausted. Chicago A&E wait times are no fucking joke. Luca drove you back to your apartment. 

“Anything I can do for you?” He asked, still worried about you. 

“Do you want to come up and we can get takeout? I need to thank you for taking care of me today,” you chuckled. He shook his head, a smile on his face.

“No need for thanking, I’m just glad that you’re ok,” he smiled. “But I will take you up on dinner, since we missed our lunch date today.”

You walked up, hand in hand (not your hurt one), and led him into your apartment. He’d never truly been inside, only getting glimpses, but he knew he’d love it. It was perfect, it was so you. Knick-knacks from you various hobbies and pictures from your life, even one of you as a kid. 

“Cute kid,” he smiled, picking up the photo. You laughed. “She’s cuter now.”

You rolled your eyes at his bad joke. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Lorenzo’s?” He offered. 

“Wow,” you chuckled. “Call back to when we first started dating.”

He nodded. So you were dating, right? “Exactly.”

“Huh, look at that,” you smiled, trying to keep up the facade of not being very nervous about this. “It’s been exactly a month since.”

“Our one month anniversary,” he smiled and your heart melted. He also thought you were actually dating, even if he hadn’t specifically called you his girlfriend, and you hadn’t explicitly said he was your boyfriend. 

He was silent for a moment, so were you. Just looking at each other.

“That means I can call you my girlfriend, right?” He asked, a bashful smile on his lips. 

You smiled back. “Yes.” 

“Good,” he groaned, pulling your waist into his. “I’ve been wanting to call you that all month.”

You chuckled. “I’m glad.”

He smiled. “So you’re my girlfriend.”

“So you’re my boyfriend,” you chuckled and he pressed his lips to yours. 

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked, pulling away. 

“I don’t think I deserve that title after crying today. I’m an ugly crier,” you chuckled. 

“You are not an ugly crier, plus it was Carmen’s fucking fault anyway,” he defended. 

You shrugged. “Things happen in the kitchen.”

“And that wouldn’t have happened if Carm was such a piece of shit,” he cursed, smiling at you. 

“Let’s just order dinner, yeah?” 

He pressed his lips to yours again. “Yeah.”

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Two months in…

You and Luca had both had a shit day, nothing had gone right in the kitchen, you’d burnt yourself, and Carmen was really getting on Luca’s nerves, to the point of a screaming match during lunch. 

He pushed you up against the counter as he pressed searing kisses to your lips and neck. You were boiling, despite the freezing kitchen.

“Luc,” you groaned. You and Luca hadn’t gone further than heavy making out, and something told you that Luca wasn’t slowing down this time. It was late, you were the only two still there, who could it hurt?

He pulled your t-shirt over your head pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “So gorgeous.”

“Luca, someone could come in,” You hissed as he pressed kisses down your torso. “Luca!”

He looked up from between your legs, eyes dark and hair messy, and a part of you just didn’t care. You wanted him. “Please baby.”

You nodded, a smile on your face. He pulled off your jeans and underwear in one fluid movement as you lay back. 

“So pretty baby,” he pressed kisses to the insides of your thighs as you started overthinking the entire situation. Someone could just come in, anyone, even Andrea, you had no fucking idea. Also, did Luca actually want to do this? Most guys didn’t like eating pussy, and you didn’t even know the last time you’d shaved. 

He finally pressed his tongue against your clit and your brain short- circuited. “Luca!” You moaned, putting a hand in his hair. “Fuck Luca, there!”

Luca added a finger, then two, until you were writhing on the table, fucking you past your first orgasm and into another one, as he moaned along like he was being pleasured by this.  He didn’t stop sucking and fucking your pussy with his tongue for a long time, despite how hard he was in his boxers, despite how much he wanted to fuck you. You tasted incredible, something he could only dream of recreating, oh, that was a good idea… Anyway, he fucked you through two orgasms, then stood back up. 

You whined at the loss of contact as he unzipped his trousers, taking out his cock. God, he was big. Big, and fucking thick. “Luca I-”

“Are you on birth control?” He asked, spreading some of your slick over his cock and stroking himself.

You nodded. He smiled. 

“Good girl.”

And with that, he pushed into you in one painful thrust. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed his to yours in a searing kiss. He let you adjust, then slowly started moving.   

“Faster,” you begged. “Faster Luca.”

He was all too happy to oblige. 

And that’s how your first time fucking Luca was in the kitchen of Ever. 

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The big fight…

It had been a shit fucking week. Chicago was cold and damp, and your bike had gotten a flat on your way home from work. Shitty. On Monday, your trainee burnt you, then blamed you. On Tuesday, you didn’t even see Luca, he was too busy at Ever. On Wednesday, you smashed your phone screen. On Thursday, Luca’s mother called to say she was visiting next week, with absolutely no warning, so that meant you had to sort out your new apartment all night. 

Shitty. 

Luca barged in, angry from the week. All week he had been fucking up. Small mistake no one should be making, let alone him. Worst part? He hadn’t seen you all week. But there you were, sitting on the couch with a book, snuggled into a throw blanket. 

“Hey,” he called out. No reply. “Baby?” No reply. “Babe!”

No reply. “Fine, fucking be like that.”

Luca marched into the bathroom, his anger bubbling. 

You hadn’t even seen him enter, too engrossed in your novel and the music in your earphones to look up. After about an hour of reading, you left your cosy spot on the couch, retiring to the bedroom. And there he was, your Luca, lying in bed. 

“Hey,” you smiled, climbing into bed beside him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he scoffed, pulling away from you. “You never fucking listen anyways.”

You were taken aback. Why the fuck was he being so pissy? “What?”

“It’d be great if you could even give me, your fucking boyfriend, a singular moment of your time, but I see that that’s too much to ask, so I’ll just go fuck myself.”

“Luca, what is wrong with you?” You huffed, confused at his words. 

“Maybe I’ve had a shitty week alright? And maybe I wanted to spend time with you but you were too busy with your book to even fucking see me!” 

You sighed. “Luc, I had headphones in, I couldn’t fucking hear you.”

“Oh yeah? And how many times have I asked you to turn down the volume or take one out so you can hear the world around you?” He asked condescendingly. 

“Baby, you’re not meant to be home until 11 most nights, not 7:30. I thought I had time!” 

“I sent you a text about it and all!”

“I wasn’t on my phone!” you defended. 

He sighed. “I’m not doing this right now,” and he walked out of your bedroom, and out of the apartment. 

And you were alone. What had just happened?

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Luca took a walk to clear his head, but he just felt worse. He was being a dick and he knew it, but he was just so stressed. Work was hard, and you were the only one who made him feel good enough. And recently, since you’d transferred to another restaurant he’d been wondering if he was good enough in the  kitchen, and for you. 

You were amazing, countless chef awards, you’re a beautiful, stunning woman, but you were also kind, patient, and funny. 

Was he enough for you?

 And that night, it had all just exploded. 

He walked back into the apartment to find you on the couch, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, nose running. He felt awful. 

“I’m so sorry baby,” he whispered, kneeling in front of you. “I’m such an arsehole.”

“Yeah you are,” you sniffled. “But so am I. I’m sorry about the headphones.”

He shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was just stressed this week, and I’m just taking it out on you. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

You both froze. In your year and a half of dating, neither of you had been brave enough to admit that you loved each other, obviously, you both knew and felt the love, but neither of you had been brave enough to do it. 

“Oh,” you said, and Luca looked up, a shocked look on his face. “I love you too,” you blurted out. 

He smiled. “Good, I'm glad.” 

You chuckled. “Me too.”

You both burst out laughing. 

“That was so diplomatic!” you giggled. 

“Who says ‘oh’ after someone says they love them?” Luca laughed, pulling you into his arms as you laughed. 

Your fight had been long forgotten in a matter of seconds. 

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“Thinking about things?” Luca squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. He smirked at you. 

“Maybe?” You smiled, holding him closer. “You?”

“Of course I am,” he whispered. “You looked so gorgeous on the counter-”

“Shut the fuck up!” You groaned. 

Andrea suddenly appeared in front of  you two, a bright smile on her face. “My two chefs!”

“Andrea!” You smiled, pulling her in for a hug. Andrea had always been one of your biggest supporters (well, her and Luca), always calling when she heard something new about your restaurant, and even coming to visit when she was in London. 

“How are you two?” She asked. You smiled at Luca, who smiled back. 

“We’re engaged,” you beamed, showing off the beautiful ring Luca had given to you, just a week ago. 

“Oh my god!” she squealed. “What wonderful news!”

“What’s the wonderful news?” Carmen butted in, a smile on his face. 

“We’re engaged,” Luca answered. 

“Shit, congratulations!” He smiled, pulling you both in for a hug. 

“Well, that is going to be one amazing wedding,” Andrea added. “Who’s your caterer?” She joked.

You both laughed. It felt good. It felt good to be this loved.

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the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[iamthetruenhaz]

Russia's prep work

I originally wrote this as a reply to a reddit comment about the prep work Putin's Russia has done to reconquer Eastern Europe (and Central Asia) and soften up the West in order to "reclaim" the "lost" global power status the USSR had.

Putin* has been prepping his "reconquering" of Eastern Europe and Central Asia since he stepped into office. He took on an openly anti-western course since the Munich speech in 2007. He probably saw American global dominance weakening following Afghanistan and Iraq and because Russia had stabilised after the 90s, he thought it was time to act.

First he paved the way with the Chechen war where he "won" and got to jump on the War on terror bandwagon and use Islamic terrorism as a boogeyman for his own imperialistic purpose to rile up Russians against external threats.

Then he invaded Georgia to probe the soil and see how the west would react. They mostly ignored him so he went on to meddle in Eastern European politics, coerce Ukraine for gas and fund right-wing parties all across Europe (at the time mostly to drive a wedge between Eastern and Western Europe and suck EE countries back into Russian orbit) while pumping anti-western sentiment and Soviet nostalgia at home.

He saw that the west was disunited because of the US-UK-EU split following the wars in Iraq, Libya and Syria. He capitalized on that in several ways using both the wars and the refugee crisis that followed. One, to increase racist and nationalist propaganda and stir up hatred against "the liberal gay western cabal" and the resulting Euroscepticism. Two, to prop up the "proper" traditionalist Russia as an alternative. Three, to paint Eastern European countries as a puppet of the US liberals who were "ackschually" nazis in disguise, which was easy when the West was divided between trying to coax them into the EU and leaving them as a buffer-zone backwater. The brightest example of the latter was in late 2021 when Lukashenko started dumping Middle Eastern migrants on the Polish border so the Poles could be painted as a racist, white supremacist state. Unlike, you know, Belarus (really Russia) which weaponized the migrants.

Then he failed in Ukraine when his puppet's sharp turn away from a planned EU accession path caused the Euromaidan revolts. Pro-Russian protesters soon spawned, staging provications (my own country had a wave of protests and pro-russian counter-protests back then and I remember neonazis and other paid protesters being at the forefronts). Russian media started hurling accusations of nazism against pro-western protesters.

All of a sudden, it's like a switch was flipped in Russian society. Decommunization was out the window. In 2015, Stalin was chosen as the most influential figure in *world* history by Russians. All the anti-Western, Russian irredentist, traditionalist, racist and homophobic sentiments coalesced into one, directed against the "evil nazi gay jewish West". Putin started openly provoking the West with displays of military force, close flybys in territorial waters, playing Cuban missile crisis in Kaliningrad. All to rack up the atmosphere of an imminent Cold War II and maybe even WWIII where a "wronged", "humiliated" Russia would finally make the West pay. The WWII victory celebrations also took on the appearance of a war cult, with jingoistic slogans like "we can do it again", "to Berlin" and "we're coming for the German women" displayed on every 9th May parade. Eastern European countries, especially the Baltics and Poland, noticed and tried to raise alarm, but were mostly told to keep their paranoia down and ignored.

In the last decade, he used his military and propaganda machine (what we call "hybrid warfare") to create the impression of the following: (1) The West is imperialist (and is being hypocritical about it), waging pointless bloody wars in the Middle East; (2) The West is weak in those wars, causing Russia to step in like in Syria and deal with the issue "properly"; (3) Western democracies are weak in dealing with "barbaric" refugees because they're too greedy not to let them in but too soft to throw the bad apples out (this was used to boost nationalism and Euroscepticism).

By those means, Russian propaganda managed to manipulate both anti-imperialist and nationalist groups within the West as well as in Russia and Eastern Europe and pave the way for its "just war" of "reconquering" Eastern Europe. In the West, the image of Eastern Europe was molded as either "poor backwards savages we're better off without" (for nationalists), "paranoid silly yokels crying wolf about Russia who is now playing nice" (for moderates), "ingrates not worth defending so we'll pull out" (for Trump-like US conservatives) or "backwards homophobic barbarians we don't want here because they'll ruin our utopia" (for progressivists). In Russia, they were portrayed as "lost property", accused them of being "taken over by nazis" anytime they tried to acknowledge any of the repressions suffered from USSR, and "unconscious puppets of the West" and routinely threatened with "annexation in 3 days" whenever they "misbehaved" by taking a stance against Russia's politics, whether past or current. Finally, in Eastern European countries themselves, Russia tried to ruin the image of the liberal West by portraying them as "the real fascists", "liberalism gone so far it circled back to fascism" and to prop up its own image as the "savior from debauchery upholding the good ols ways".

Also worth noting that Putin was all too eager to intervene in any country that tried to reject Russian dominance or even its own pro-Russian dictatorship. He was ready to support Belarus in 2020 and intervened in Kazakhstan in 2022 just a month before the invasion of Ukraine.

So yeah, it was quite the prep work. All to ensure that when he went on his imperialistic crusade in EE, people at home and in the West and even in Eastern Europe itself would applaud him, failing that be indifferent, failing THAT remain unheard.

* by "Putin" I don't necessarily mean just him, but the lobby behind him as well.

[cobaltperun]

Genius (7) - Can You Keep a Secret

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word count: 2.9k

-And no one has to know I'm your getaway, and a little bit more than you can take-

Cairo dropped by Miller’s classroom as he was getting ready to leave, she wanted to discuss the assignment, since the writer she chose needed his approval. “Hello,” she said and took her usual seat. Absentmindedly, she left her phone on the table, not wanting to miss a text or a call from you if you were already home.

If you already got the letter.

“I was thinking about my assignment,” she opened, not inquiring about how he seemed to be going somewhere.

He smiled at her as he picked up the things he previously left on her table and almost unassumingly he went and placed his hand over her own. “Tell me about it,” he encouraged, squeezing lightly, his thumb slipping under her palm.

“Of course, just a moment,” she pulled her hand back, pretending to look for some notes or whatever in her bag. She didn’t have any, but she now knew she took it too far with him, she created certain expectations and now one way or another he was reacting to them. Which was why she had Winnie there as well, and now that felt like the right decision. “Looks like I forgot my notes, it’s fine though, I was thinking,”

Her favorite author. It was still Henry Miller, that much she knew, but given how things between her and this Miller were turning out maybe that wasn’t the best idea. Her heart told her to go with Verne, but she didn’t want anyone to know how much that writer meant to both of you. That was your secret, your book, your childhood memories, and she didn’t want them tainted or graded.

“Henry Miller,” she said, consequences be damned.

~X~

She couldn’t believe she had misplaced her phone somewhere, she had it in the classroom when she went to talk to Miller, and then just, gone. She didn’t even notice she didn’t take it with her, seeing as she was happy her idea got approved. But she was annoyed now that she no longer had her phone. She had no idea if you would come.

Please come here.

She stripped down, her body bare as she glanced at the mirror. Would you like seeing her like this? Naked, aroused, just for you, craving for your touch, your lips all over her. What would you do to her? She’s read erotic books, she rarely imagined herself as the participant, but now her thoughts were filled with those scenarios, you and her reenacting them. What sounds would you make?

She picked out a dress, a long, black dress, reaching nearly to her feet and hugging her figure perfectly, showing off her hips, drawing attention to her breasts, and her bare shoulders covered only by the thin straps. She wasn’t sure if you’d come, but she wanted to be ready, she wanted to dress up just for you, and she wanted you to tear the dress off her.

“Please come here,” she sighed, tempted to just call you, to be absolutely certain you would come and take her.

You wanted that, right?

You wanted her, right?

Please come here.

And then her landline began ringing.

~X~

You didn’t go back home right away, you had to go over to the closest town to grab strings for your acoustic guitar, since one of the strings broke last night, which was annoying, but nothing you couldn’t easily fix. As you were approaching your house you noticed the sky was getting cloudy and you were thankful you managed to come back home before it started raining.

As you parked in front of your gate to open it you noticed a letter. “Probably for mom and dad,” you guessed and grabbed it without looking at who sent it. You parked your motorcycle in the garage and went inside, dropping the letter and the spare string on the sofa. You were going with out with Cairo tomorrow and you still weren’t sure where to take her, or if she was willing to go out for a longer ride, maybe sleep somewhere else and use the entire weekend. Either way, you would figure it out in the morning.

You finished freshening up a bit and changing your clothes to something more comfortable and only then did you sit down on the sofa to check the letter you got. Right there, sticking out like a sore thumb, was Cairo’s address. The mailman must have dropped it off here instead because he didn’t feel like going all the way to Cairo’s house.

You called her, but she didn’t answer, and you figured, what the hell, the worst case scenario you could put the letter in her mailbox.

The best case scenario, you had an excuse to go and see her now.

~X~

This wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up. How did her phone end up in Miller’s bag? At the start of the week she would have been elated, thinking he was what she wanted, thinking he saw her, that he could madly love her. At the start of the week she would have thought this would be the moment, she would let him take her, claim her like the books she read described, that he would be exactly what Winnie described weeks ago.

But that was at the start of the week. Now things were different and she didn’t fail to realize she, barefoot and in the dress she chose, looked like she got dressed up just for him when she simply didn’t want to risk changing and then letting the dress go to waste if you came right now. That was a mistake, she saw him. Standing there, soaked by the rain, standing on her pavement, and looking at her with unconcealed desire. His eyes consumed her, she knew he would remember this, with the way his memory worked he’d recall every curve of her dress, every detail he took notice off.

“Hello,” she spoke, confidently. He wouldn’t cross the line, he had his job to worry about. She would not get burnt by fire.

“Hi,” he replied, breathing deeply as he looked at her. “Come here,” he told her, and the reason to go over to him was obvious, her phone in his hand. She wondered if you called her or sent her a message.

She was about to go over to him, to take her phone and be done with this so he could go back to his wife, but then something drew his attention away from her, stilled his breathing and for a moment she heard nothing but drops of rain falling and breaking apart on the ground, And then she heard it, the roar of a motorcycle engine filled her ears and she felt her heart soaring, her body burning up despite the cold air surrounding her. That was the sound, that was what she wanted to hear. You came for her. You were coming.

She wasn’t sure how to explain his car parked in front of her gate. Would she need to explain of would you understand it without a single word spoken between you? Either way you parked nect to her fence and turned the engine off. Even from the distance Cairo could see the raindrops falling from your helmet and biker jacket. You walked through that gate like you used to so many times and Cairo felt her palms sweating, she wanted to step into the rain, or to make you walk faster, just so this distance would end. She wanted to hold you and be held by you, she wanted your lips on hers and all over her body. Her breathing grew just a bit faster as she watched you.

“Hey,” your lips were hidden by the helmet and she struggled to see your eyes behind the visor, but she could see the hints of softness in them. “Professor, good afternoon,” you nodded to Miller, lifting your visor up and meeting his startled gaze with a questioning look in your eyes. You looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow and then fishing into your jacket for a small umbrella, opened it and shielded the man from the rain. “You’ll catch a cold, you need to be more careful at your age,” you said it so casually, so easily that Cairo nearly lost her composure. Despite the gesture, despite the words you spoke, the tone made it clear what you meant.

And Cairo wanted to read your mind, just to see what you were actually thinking, but she couldn’t, and she certainly hoped it was along the lines of: ‘Get the fuck away from what’s mine.’ If nothing else she definitely imagine you thought that, that you were just as mad and possessive over her as she was feeling over you, because damn, she hated the very idea of anyone being intimate with you with burning passion.

“R-Right, well, uh, Cairo, I’ve given you-“ Miller stammered, red in the face and looking anywhere but at you or Cairo, he then realized he was still holding her phone. “I’m giving you back your phone!” he urgently offered her the phone she forgot. “And I’m going, nowhere, uh, elsewhere, anywhere really,” he nearly tripped as he took a few steps back. “I’ll see you two in class on Monday!” he hid inside his car, fumbling with his keys and leaving in haste as you closed the umbrella.

You sighed “Damn old fuck,” you cursed as Miller drove off and once again took something from your jacket, a letter this time, and Cairo smiled, it did bring you to her. “The mailman left this at my parent’s place. I think he doesn’t like coming all the way over here,” you joked, handing her the letter.

She nodded, smiling slightly as you came closer so she wouldn’t have to step into the rain, and her smile only widened when her fingers brushed against your gloved hand. This wasn’t just longing, she was yearning for you, craving to feel more, to touch and be touched. You were right there, your hands were touching, and your eyes widened for a moment as well, proving to her you felt something too.

“I’ll leave you to whatever you dressed up for. You look, never mind, I should go,” you turned, thinking she dressed up for someone or something else, but she couldn’t let you leave now. You took a grand total of four steps by the time she moved. She stepped into the rain and pulled you back, her phone and the letter saved from colliding with the ground only by your quick reflexes. But your reflexes couldn’t save your helmet or the umbrella from hitting the ground. “Hey! Watch the hel-“ your breath hitched, eyes meeting her own as she raised her head, her lips so close to your own she could feel the incoming burning sensation of your lips against hers. “Cairo,” you sighed, helmet forgotten somewhere on the grass near you two as you leaned down, your forehead pressing against her own.

“How do I look?” she asked, her fingers crawling up from the bottom of your jacket to the high collar, the raindrops from the sky, from your jacket, soaking her skin and the soft dress she was wearing. And she shivered, not due to the rain, not even due to the way you were looking at her, but due to the way you just pulled her closer, pressing her body so possessively to your own, the wetness seeping through her dress. This wasn’t enough, she wanted, no needed more. She needed you to get rid of the damn clothes she was wearing while she removed your own.

“Like the most tantalizing poem ever created and then given flesh,” you were out of breath, your lips ghosting over her own in the most exquisite, yet excruciatingly painful way Cairo ever felt.

“Satisfy those desires then,” she was just as out of breath as you were and it felt like the puzzle pieces fell into place, her longing, her yearning, the desires, it all went back to you. You were the one, you were her madman’s love. All the yearning, all her passion, it all exploded within her as your lips pressed against hers. As the heat of your tongue and the cold of the rain that began pouring broke her down and put her back together. Your hands roaming her body, slipping through her hair, tugging her closer, remained the only reason she wasn’t falling apart, why she still maintained her shape as you hastily threw your gloves of so your bare fingertips could touch any part of her exposed skin in your reach.

You gasped for air, breaking the kiss and leaning down while lightly tugging at her hair, and she complied, unable to resist giving in to your wishes as she exposed her neck to you. “You’re a need I can never satisfy,” you left burning hot kisses against her soaked skin, not caring about the downpour that was soaking both of you. “You’re a dream I can’t wake up from,” she felt the unfamiliar throbbing as you moved lower, to her exposed shoulder. “The only melody that can fill my silence,” Cairo closed her eyes, soft gasps escaping past her lips as she pushed your jacket down, letting the rain hit your shirt, soaking it in almost an instant, but neither of you cared. Lost in yearning and unrestrained desire, and she brought your head back up, kissing you as deeply as she could, committing the taste of you, the imperfect, lustful and loving way your tongue moved against her own once again. The string of saliva still connected her lips to yours when you separated. “You’re the desire that inspires me.”

And she captured your lips once again, not satisfied with just this. “Then be inspired, my madness. Take me in all the ways you desire,” she whispered right into your ear, sensually, seductively, for you weren’t caught in her web, you were spinning the web with her. And she was all yours, more than you knew, more than you could imagine, but she was, indeed, all yours. And she said it. “I’m yours, every part of me, in every way you want me. Love me, Y/N,” she sighed, opening her mouth in a soundless cry as you sucked on her neck, marking her as your own.

~X~

You woke up to the sound of soft breathing close to your ear and you moved just a bit, just so you could hug her. Cairo hummed, muttering something you couldn’t quite understand, well, other than the word ‘mine’ that one you clearly heard. That got you to grin as you opened your eyes and saw her snuggling up against you, she was sleeping with her head on top of you, just above your chest in fact and she had an arm and leg draped over your body.

The two of you fell asleep like that last night. Naked. Satisfied. With your clothes thrown all over her room and the letter she wrote to you lying somewhere either on the bed itself or near it. Damn, the letter would remain burnt into your memory for the rest of your life. She went into detail on what she wanted, how she wanted you to take her, excluding one detail she wasn’t aware of, You took a deep breath, trying to calm down as the words she said and the tone she used came to your mind.

“What’s on your mind?” she suddenly asked and you looked down to see her eyes still closed but the tone of her voice and the way she tightened her grip on your waist told you she was definitely awake now.

“Hmm, you’ll have to kiss the answer out of me,” you told her, and you should have expected it, really. After all, this was Cairo. She got up and kissed you, her lips capturing your in an instant as she took the lead. She nibbled on your lower lip, moaning slightly against it as you caressed her back.

“Like that?” she asked with a mischievous look in her eyes.

You nodded, grinning a bit. “So, I’m thinking about how you sounded last night. Your moans, cries, I’m recalling how you fell apart while I was inside you, crying and begging for more,” you smirked a bit as she pressed against you and just for a moment stopped breathing as you spoke.

And then she smirked back. “Well, I figured you liked your girls to be loud, seeing how much you rely on your hearing,” she told you with a hint o jealousy in her voice.

You flipped the two of you over, so you were on top. “Girl. As in one,” you reassured her and caressed her cheek. “Just you, Cairo.”

The smile on her lips could have charmed anyone and you were at her mercy, but she was at your mercy as well, just as affected by you as you were affected by her.

A/N: Well, here’s a question for you, do I write chapter 8, or the smut first?

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[edwinspaynes]

GHOSTS IN THE SNOW

I spent a lot of the day thinking I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST IF I DO NOT SEE A PAYNELAND SNOW KISS RIGHT NOW. Unfortunately, I could not find one to look upon, so I decided to write one. Here you are! You can also read it on Ao3.

Edwin did not like to admit it, but he barely remembered what it meant to feel cold.

Charles did - considering the manner in which he died, it was no surprise. And yet all Edwin could recall was heat, not only from the fires of Hell but also from running, and running, and running. As he strolled along the peaceful nighttime streets of London, Charles's hand in his, he contemplated what it might be like to feel the light snowfall on his face. To have his cheeks wind-whipped and numb, to catch the large, fluffy falling snowflakes in his mouth and taste them.

Edwin did not frequently yearn for life, but in that moment, he felt something like nostalgia for it.

"What're you thinking about, mate?" Charles's voice cut through the still darkness. The world was quiet here, away from London's main roads at three in the morning, but Charles's voice was bold and brave. "You've got that look on your face, the one you get when you're really engrossed in some book or puzzle."

"And what sort of look is that?" Edwin's voice was light.

Charles scrunched up his face and narrowed his eyes rather adorably.

Edwin chuckled. "You are being ridiculous," he admonished. "I have never looked like that. You once told me that my contemplative expression is quite clever; I shall choose to believe that rather than your insulting impression."

Charles smiled slightly. "Are you saying I didn't look clever like that? Well, that's rude, isn't it, when I tried so hard."

"You shall have to make a better effort next time." Edwin waved the hand that was not holding Charles's in the air, and Charles squeezed his hand. They continued to stroll along, and Edwin watched the flurries swirl under the light-posts. Electric lighting had been new back in his day, and it was not nearly as bright as this, so bright as to illuminate the snowfall and -

"Oi," Charles said. "You're doing it again." He did not release Edwin's hand, but brought the other one up to poke him on the shoulder. He poked far too many times, far too quickly. Edwin would not have had Charles any other way. "Come on, Edwin," he continued, "what's going on in that big brain of yours, huh?"

Edwin rolled his eyes and huffed. "I am simply contemplating what it might be like to feel... cold," he said. "I do not remember it."

"Oh." Charles stopped walking, and Edwin with him. His hand went slack, and they pulled apart as Charles continued. "That's... I guess... I don't really remember normal cold either, do I? Just like, the perils of terminal hypothermia or whatever."

"Very uplifting," Edwin murmured, and Charles nudged him.

"But. But." Charles tilted his head at Edwin. "I bet it's, like, the opposite of warm, yeah? Like, when you hold my hand, that's warm. Cold would be... the other thing, yeah?"

"Have you never thought it odd that humans always wish to sort things into arbitrary binaries? As much as I enjoy organized thought processes..."

"Hot/cold doesn't feel that arbitrary," Charles argued.

"I shall have to conduct further study." Edwin steepled his hands before himself, an unconscious habit that he knew made him appear confident.

But Charles grinned again. "I mean, if you want something else warm so you can better understand what its opposite might be..."

"Whatever do you mean?"

Charles reached out. He clasped Edwin's hands in his own, breaking his folded hands apart and squeezing his fingers. Then, still smiling, Charles took a step closer to Edwin and placed his hands on either side of his face. Edwin smiled at the last moment before their lips met, and Charles's mouth was as gentle as the snowflakes blowing lightly through the sky.

And warm. Of course, he was warm.

When Charles pulled away, large, uniquely-shaped snowflakes were stark against his black hair. Edwin wondered whether he was in such a state, too, and whether Charles liked the contrast as much as he did. But he did not have to wonder for long. Charles laughed quietly and reached upward to smooth down Edwin's hair, his expression so woefully fond that Edwin had to fight the urge to look away. "Love you, mate," he said casually, and Edwin could not help but smile.

Edwin's heart melted, but his eyes narrowed. "Wait," he said. "What on Earth did that have to do with our previous conversation? How am I meant to better understand the nature of cold due to that?"

"You're not," Charles said without a hint of shame. "I just made up an excuse to kiss you, didn't I. And it worked."

Edwin pivoted toward Charles. "You are trickier than I gave you credit for," he said, smirking.

"And you love me," Charles said, smiling as he trailed after Edwin.

Edwin reached out behind him, and Charles took his hand. "I suppose I do," Edwin mused.

He did not see the way that Charles smiled down at his boots.

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[heartsiez]

MINE.

when they’re put in a situation that makes them feel jealous

⌗ kazuha and scaramouche x gn reader (seperate)

⌗ jealous behaviour, possessive behaviour, idk what else. their parts are like a one shot in their own HELP.

— kazuha

as the cherry blossom petals swirled around you and kazuha, you couldn't help but feel content. you had known kazuha for a while now, and had grown to appreciate his company more and more each time you were together. today, the two of you had decided to take a stroll through the park and enjoy the beautiful scenery.

you’d just gotten off work at a local café in inazuma. it was insanely busy today, causing you to get stressed out. many customers wanted the same thing, causing the item to go out of stock, which caused others to be mad because what they wanted wasn’t available. you’d go into more detail but just the thought of it stresses you out.

once you stepped out of the building you knew straight away you needed kazuha with you to ease off all of your negative emotions. you really did love kazuha, he was always able to clear your head with just a word. you may not be dating yet, but it’s clear as day to anyone that you both have feelings for each other.

anyways, that’s where it brings you to now. you were in the middle of telling kazuha about your day when you suddenly spotted a familiar figure in the distance causing you to pause your movements, kazuha copying with a confused look.

it was your ex.

you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as memories flooded your mind. you hadn't seen your ex in months, and you had thought that you had moved on from the heartbreak they had caused you. which, you have moved on, but you still can’t help the familiar feelings that come over you. it makes you feel guilty because kazuhas right next to you.

your ex noticed you, both locking eyes. you wanted to tear your eyes away from them, or even pull your eyes out of your sockets but you just couldn’t look away.

as your ex approached, you tensed up, unsure of how to react. to your surprise, your ex greeted you with a warm smile and a friendly hug. you hesitated, but you couldn't help but reciprocate, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over you.

kazuha, who had been watching the entire interaction (even from when you first noticed them), felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him.

he had grown to care deeply for you, wanting to keep you by his side forever, and the sight of you interacting with your ex made him very uneasy. he tried to brush off the feeling, reminding himself that you were the one with him now (even if not officially), and that your ex was just permanently a part of your past.

you pulled away from your ex, turning back to kazuha with a guilty, and apologetic look. “uhm, kazu, this is my…” you trailed off awkwardly, not really knowing what to call them. kazuha already knew who this person was to you, you just didn’t wanna seem rude officially introducing your ex, as your ex.

“i’m their old friend.” they continued for you, offering out their hand for him with a sweet smile, though the wind told kazuha different.

“it’s… a surprise to meet you.” kazuha took their hand with swift haste, an obvious fake smile plastered. you cleared your throat as they both pulled away, moving back to stand next to kazuha you looked to him, and he looked back.

“you don’t mind if they spend the rest of the day with us?” you asked, a sheepish smile on your face as kazuha let out a sigh only you could really hear. “of course not, it would be my pleasure to meet an old friend of your past.” he made sure to clarify.

“great…” your ex looked at him with a challenging look and then turned around. “i saw there was a place just past those trees over there, let’s go take a look.”

they took your wrist pulling you with them, scaring you out of surprise. you looked back to kazuha who was quick to follow you two, though mainly focusing on the connection between your wrist and their hand. his eyes finally travelled up to meet yours and you offered him an apologetic smile, as in to say everything will go fine from now on.

however, as the day went on, kazuha couldn't shake the wretched feeling inside of him. he just wanted to steal you away forever, not liking the feeling of someone else being a threat to you two. and your ex was one. they seemed to be getting too close for comfort, and kazuha couldn't help but feel like he was slowly being pushed out of the picture.

the sun began to set, and your ex had already said their goodbyes, apologising that it must be weird for you and that they overstayed their visit. kazuha was glad they finally seemed to realise.

he pulled you aside, away from everyone else who was still in the cherry blossom park, thought not much. you looked at him with a curious look, both your arms crossed over each other. he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice low and hesitant.

"i know i shouldn't feel this way, and it’s not my place to really say this, but seeing you with your ex today... it made me feel… horrible. i care about you a lot, and the thought of losing you to someone from your past scares me."

you were a little shocked. i mean, kazuha feeling insecure? usually he knows whether or whether not he should be feeling vulnerable in a situation, because the wind whispers the secrets to him. so he must be feeling really upset if he’s not trusting the winds of the archon.

you continued to stare at him, trying to find out how he was really feeling inside from his face. you could see the pain and vulnerability in his eyes, and your heart ached for him. you felt guilty.

you took his hand and pulled him into a tight embrace, "kazuha, you have nothing to worry about. you're the one i want to be with, and nothing will ever change that. my ex is just a part of my past, but you... you're my present and my future." you smiled at him warmly.

kazuha's tense shoulders relaxed as he returned the embrace, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. he had been so worried about losing you, but hearing your words made him feel more secure in your relationship. the negativ emotion on his face disappeared, getting it replaced with a way more positive one.

as the two of you pulled away, kazuha leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. he grabbed the wrist your ex held earlier, and pulled it up to his lips to kiss, his eyes not breaking eye contact the entire time.

the rest of the evening was spent in a comfortable silence, the two of you enjoying each other's company as the sun set over the horizon. the memory of your exes visit was fading fast along with the light in the sky.

you knew that there would be more challenges ahead for you both, but with kazuha by your side, you felt confident that the two of you could overcome anything together.

lol corny.

— scaramouche

scaramouche, the cunning and mischievous harbinger of the fatui, had always been a man of many talents. but there was one thing that he couldn't quite control - his jealousy. and as he watched you interact with aether from behind a wall, scaramouche couldn't help but feel a rising sense of possessiveness.

you lived with scaramouche in the fatui headquarters as his assistant, and loving partner. your best friend, aether, would usually visit you sometimes with scaramouches permission, but he never really knew what you two got up to since he was always out on missions when aether was there.

this was the first time he was present while aether visited and he’d never felt such regret in saying yes before. he wished he never gave permission to that blonde.

while scaramouche had tried to ignore the growing friendship between the two of you, he found it increasingly difficult to do so throughout the day. aether was a charismatic and friendly traveler, and it was visible to the eye that you seemed to enjoy spending time with him, much to scaramouches dismay.

as scaramouche continued to watch the two of you talk and laugh, he couldn't help but feel a nagging murderous feeling in his chest. he knew that he had no right to feel this way, mostly because you’d get extremely angry at him if you found out he wanted to kill your best friend... but he couldn't help the way he felt.

then, to add salt on his internal wound, aether leaned in closer to you, his hand brushing against yours. scaramouche's eyes narrowed as he watched the interaction, feeling a surge of anger. if aether didn’t mean that much to you he would’ve already ripped that plat off.

as he started to slowly get a better look of the two of you, he noticed something that surprised him - aether seemed completely oblivious to what he was doing. he was just being friendly, completely unaware of the intimate actions he was creating, and of the harbinger's leaking jealousy flowing throughout the entire building.

scaramouche took a deep, long breath, trying to calm himself down. he knew that he couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, especially not near you and aether. one noise and you’d hear him, which would cause you to find him and boast him with questions.

it’s okay. he can last… at least that’s what he told himself.

as the day went on, scaramouche found it harder and harder to control his burning jealousy. it felt like a forest fire inside of him. he didn't want to lose you to some prick, and the sight and thought of aether getting too close to you made him feel sick to his stomach.

finally, it was night and you three sat around a small table chatting. well, it was mostly just you and aether speaking while scaramouche held back a nasty look to him.

as he sat there anticipating for the time aether would leave, he saw something that made the last thread inside of him snap. aether had tucked some short hair strands behind your ear, then his hand trailed down your neck and rested on your shoulder as you continued to speak. it was an innocent friendly gesture, but scaramouche had had enough. he stood up abruptly, glaring at aether sharply.

"i think it's time for you to leave," he said, his voice harsh and fast to leave his body.

aether looked up, surprised. "what? why?" he asked.

"because i don't want you around here anymore," scaramouche replied, his voice laced with venom.

you looked between the two of them, confused and slightly angered by scaramouche's sudden outburst. "scaramouche, what's going on?" you asked, reaching out to touch his arm.

but scaramouche pulled away from you. you looked at him, slightly hurt from what he did, but in a way that you knew you upset him in some way seriously which made you upset.

his eyes dark and his jaw clenched. "i said leave, aether," he repeated, his voice colder than before.

aether stood up slowly, looking between you and scaramouche with a mix of confusion and concern. "i don't understand what's going on, but if you want me to leave, i will," he said, his voice calm and measured. “i’ll see you!” he said with an awkward smile, you giving a sad one back.

as aether gathered his things and prepared to leave, you turned your attention back to scaramouche, your voice hurt and angry. "what was that about?" you demanded, your voice shaking with emotion.

scaramouche's expression softened slightly as he looked at you, but the jealousy was still evident in his eyes. "i'm sorry," he said, his voice low. "i just... i don't like seeing you with him. i don't want to lose you. the way he touched you just then and today i…”

you sighed, feeling torn between your feelings for scaramouche and your friendship with aether. "scaramouche, you know that you don't have to be jealous," you said, trying to reason with him. "i care about you, and i'm not going anywhere."

scaramouche nodded, his expression still pained. "i know that, but... i can't help the way i feel."

you reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently. "i understand that, but you can't just push people away when you feel threatened," you said gently. "it's not fair to them, or to me."

scaramouche nodded again, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "i know, and i'm sorry. i'll try to do better," he said, his voice heavy with regret.

you smiled at him, feeling the tension between you start to dissipate. "that's all i can ask," you said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "let's just focus on enjoying the peace we’ll have together, okay?"

scaramouche's lips twitched up into a small smile as he leaned in to return the kiss. "okay," he said, his voice softening. "together."

⌗ hai i’m back:3 took a little break bc of writers block……………. um……… not proof read bc i’m honestly still in writers block i just feel bad for not posting. would u believe me if i told u ai helped me out with the ideas of these prompts

[mistress-riddle]

‘𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐘!

request. Can u do a father's Day with Tom riddle of how he spends time with his child?

cw. tom riddle x wife! afab reader, use of she/her pronouns, a changed riddle who let fatherhood make him become a better person.

a sigh escapes tom’s lips and he doesn’t even bother to contain it. returning home and being met with the sight of toys scattered on the floor and the smell of milk permeating through the air revokes an odd feeling of nostalgia through tom as he avoids the obstacles on the floor and beelines straight to the dark grey sofa occupied by 2 individuals.

.

tom places his briefcase on the coffee table and takes a good look at the mother and child snoozing together, soft breaths escaping their lips as they cling to one another in a quiet slumber. this time tom releases a softer sigh and easily drapes a random blanket on his family and retreats to his room for a quick shower, he decides to join them once he’s finished. it doesn’t take long for the man to wash up and get changed, a quick flick of his wrist and his wet hair is dried and styled in its normal wear and he’s by their side, slowly and gently scooping the sleepy child into his hold. the mother stirs, eyes fluttering open and a yawn escapes her as she rubs at her eye, using the other open eye to scan the room. it rests on the standing figure of tom who’s patting the baby’s back as softly as he can.

“oh honey, you’re back?” [name] asks, fixing the baby bib on her shoulder and placing the baby bottle on the table, which was previously clutched in her palm to feed their baby before the two decided to take a much needed nap.

“i wasn’t required at work today so i came home early.” he shrugs, not too strongly of course since the baby’s cheek is smushed against his shoulder and he didn’t want to wake him up.

“that’s wonderful.” [name] claims, getting up from the couch to pat his free shoulder and places a hand over her mouth to cover the yawn “you want something to eat? we had a late lunch around half an hour ago, or maybe it was 2 hours?” by the dazed look in her eyes tom wouldn’t doubt it being over 2 hours ago.

“it’s fine, i ate before coming here.” he lifts a hand and places it on his wife’s flushed cheek, using a thumb to caress it “how was the little one when i was gone? didn’t bother you much?” 

[name] raises a brow at him and allows a smirk to extend across her lips. tom seems to think that he’s a baby whisperer. he used to brag about how every time he was left to deal with one of the younger orphans back at wool’s, they’d fall silent in his presence. [name] doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the children were just scared of his glares. although, their little baby seems to actually enjoy his company, if the cutest little smile that lift his baby cheeks and incoherent babbling are anything to go by.

“he was fine, didn’t make a fuss, thank merlin.” the teething phase is a pain but little leo was being better than others his age. [name] lifts toms hand off her cheek and enters the kitchen, a few waves of her hand and she has the teapot hovering over 2 mugs. 

tom takes a seat on the couch and shits the baby to rest on his lap, hands grasping two little ones as he fondly looks at the infant. he looks like a perfect mix between tom and [name], has tom’s black hair that shows the softest wave, [name]’s nose and lips and tom’s eyes. it’s a weird position tom finds himself in as he stares at their child. he thought it was foolish of people to settle down and procreate, thought it was weak and if you were to ask him 10 years ago if he was going to start a family of his own, he would have laughed in your face and walked away. now, however, tom finds himself cringing at his foolish 17 year old self, so self-absorbed and driven by all the wrong things. 

“sickle for your thoughts?” [name] interrupts tom. he startles and presses rather harshly into tiny leo’s hand. a grimace overtakes the two as they fear the wailing that might follow but the baby merely peeks 2 eyes open and sends them a dissatisfied look “woah, tommy, it’s like looking at a carbon copy of you.” [name] snorts as she scratches a finger against the puffy cheeks of the baby, hoping to placate him in some way.

“very funny.” tom dryly replies and sends her a similar expression which does nothing to cease her amusement.

“strong genes you got there.” the husband just rolls his eyes before looking back at his baby and smiling down at him.

“had a good sleep, huh?” he asks his son who reaches up and tom holds him up allowing the boy to grasp the satin material of tom’s pajamas in his clutch, resting his cheek against toms chest.

“leo,” [name] calls softly from beside tom as she rubs the baby’s head affectionately “wanna tell daddy what we prepared for him?” tom raises one brow in curiosity as his baby stirs happily in place and mumbles something much like the word “cake” into toms neck.

“you baked me a cake?” he asks and is momentarily met with a chocolate covered cake with the words ‘happy father’s day’ iced on top of it with what he presumes to be white chocolate. a shoddy art piece can be located towards the bottom of the cake and tom feels confident enough to credit little leo as the artist. something swells in toms heart as he receives a kiss on both cheeks from his two beloveds.

“happy father’s day, love.” [name] whispers softly into his ear and tom picks up on the babble from leo “ ‘appy papa day!”

with [name] feeding all 3 of them the cake and tom entertaining the baby, they sit together in perfect harmony. plans of revenge, destruction and war long discarded and forgotten in favour of this. tom quite liked the feeling that came with receiving kisses from his family as opposed to the splitting of one’s soul.

[whereireid]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒

pairing: miles quaritch x fem!reader | masterlist

Summary: Miles hates mornings, but they're significantly better when he wakes up next to you.

— warnings: fluff // nsfw content; mild somnophilia, [dubious consent], orgasms.

Miles Quaritch hates mornings. The shine of the early light, though beautiful, carries an unappealing chill, a reminder that he’s got a full day of fighting for a cause that he's no longer sure is worth fighting for. He grimaces as the sunshine begins to bleed through his blinds, his tail flicking irritably as his green eyes adapt to the change of light. 

His eyes fall on you.

You, so small, curled up against him, your entire body sheathed against his chest. You, held close by his right arm which is draped over your sleeping frame, your mouth parted slightly as sleep consumes you, soft, sleepy breaths slipping past your plump lips.

You're warm. So warm.

Quartich’s lips quirk upwards slightly as he brushes his nose against the nape of your neck, a quiet hum of content sliding past his lips as he breathes in your scent. Creamy magnolias, fresh-linen. You smell familiarly Earthy, like home, and a wave of nostalgia breezes through him as his tongue runs over your hot skin.

He can feel himself itching to get closer to you. He can feel his cock straining against his stomach, and his fingers gently darting down towards your plush thighs, parting the flesh carefully as he eagerly shuffles; positioning himself so he can easily glide his cock between your pillowy legs.

“Fuck,” he growls as beads of precum dribble down his lavender tip, smearing against your skin as he gently places his hardened length between your thighs. 

Quaritch wonders if you’ll stir. He begins to move, his hips rolling lazily, his eyes flittering shut in bliss. He loves you, more than anything, but your sleeping, innocent frame brings out a more sinister side of him.

His sharp canines nip against your neck, and he flattens his hand against your stomach. His jaw tenses, and he wants to wake you up and pin you against him, rutting into you like that’s all you’re good for.

“Oh, darlin’,” he murmurs breathily, his body sparking with electiricty your thighs pillow his cock. He can feel your skin ripple with goosebumps, and he presses lazy kisses to the nape of your neck. “Makin’ your daddy nice an’ proud, even when you’re sleeping.”

He pushes you against him, needy for your touch. He has to smell you, scent you, taste you. He feels you stir, and he begins to grow impatient as you wake, his thrusts become sloppy, desperate and deranged.

You begin to wake, and a soft, confused sigh slips past your lips. Quaritch grins, and he clamps his teeth down on the crook of your neck, and you attempt to jolt away from him.

Your state of confusion sparks arousal within him, and he keeps his hand pressed against your navel. You whine and squirm, the feeling of his wet cock gliding between your thighs making your own stomach spark with desire, and you shiver as his biting sends pain coursing through you.

“Ow,” you mumble sleepily, your cunt dripping wet against his length as he slides in and out of your legs. “You bit me.”

“I did." Quartich responds, his voice low and dangerous, his fingers moving down towards your cunt and parting your sticky folds. "Good morning."

A gasp is drawn from your lips as a result, your body involuntary twitching as the pad of his thumb rolls lazy circles against your swollen bud. His touch is familiar and comforting, and you find yourself growing hazy with bliss.

“G’morning,” you say, your legs intertwining with his as he continues his lazy, sluggish thrusts. “You woke up excited?”

Quaritch hums. It ripples similarly to a growl, his chest vibrating, and you shiver. “So did you,” he answers, his fingers gliding inside of your heat, humming as your walls clench down around his digits.

His embrace crushes you, and your chest heaves with excitement. It’s difficult to breathe when he’s near you, let alone tangled limb-to-limb, and you find yourself rolling your hips with his, following his sloppy motions. You wonder how long he had been grinding against you, how long he had held back from touching you before he did so.

Fingers curling inside of you, warmth blooms inside of your stomach. Your lower belly feels tense, and you flush wildly as you hear Quaritch’s heavy balls slap lewdly against your thighs with each thrust of his hips.

Lips pressing against your neck, tongue drawing lazy circles against your skin, he purrs as you press against him. Your body is so hot, blazing with desire, and he feels that his edging is coming to an end. He doesn't want it to.

“I woke you up to a nice surprise,” he slurs, his voice tainted with lust. “Nice and early. Just us. Me and you, and your thighs and your cunt.”

“You did,” you agree, your voice breathy and lewd, your stomach pooling with an insatiable warmth. "Thank you for the surprise."

Quartich smiles as you giggle. “Tell me, darlin’, were you dreamin’ of me? ‘Cause you were already so wet when I started to fuck these pretty little legs.” As though to make a point, he pulls his fingers out of you with a lewd squelch, and delivers a hearty slap to your plush thighs.

Where his palm makes contact with your skin, a blaze is set alight. You whimper at the loss of his fingers fucking into you, and you buck against him. “Yes, I was dreaming of you,” you admit, your eyes flittering shut. “Please, keep touching me,” you beg, and he doesn’t protest, instead listening to your pleas, his fingers pushing inside of you again.

“Well, then," he says, "I’m sorry for wakin’ you up, darlin’. I didn’t want to interrupt your dreams if I knew they were about me.” His voice is bittersweet, cruel but teasing. 

You choke on a helpless moan, your eyes prickling with tears as his fingers begin to, once again, work their magic. His fingers curl, and each time they do, a lewd squelching sound is dragged from your cunt, and his ears prick upwards every time. It’s a melody, one that he wants written down and tattooed onto his skin. Moans clamber from your throat as his fingers tilt inside of you, so deep that his knuckles begin to press against the curve of your ass.

“This is much better than my dream,” you whimper, your legs shaking slightly, your thighs beginning to burn from his movements.

He hisses as your thighs tense, cushioning the mushroom head of his cock as a result. He sneaks his other hand towards your head, his fingers finding their way into your curls. “I could’ve been mean. I could have woken you up to some spankings. Tainted your pretty little ass red,” he taunts, his teeth dragging against your shoulder, and he tugs softly on your hair.

Quaritch is bent impossibly, desperate to be close to you. Your skin is set alight, your body reacting to every slow, teasing curl of his fingers, and he lets out a breathy groan against your neck. Your pillowy thighs, your glistening sun-kissed skin, the faint smell of magnolias and your cunt, drives him wild.

“I’m gonna paint your thighs with my cum and you’re gonna stew in it until I finish training some of the new recruits,” he tells you, his breath hitching slightly as you buck against him, your cunt tightening around his fingers. “If you even clean yourself up a little bit, ‘m gonna beat that pretty ass pink ‘til you can’t walk anymore. ‘Til it hurts to sit.” He hums, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder. “Might fuck it, too.”

You whine at that, and Quaritch tugs at your hair softly. He doesn’t want to be too mean, not this early. His eyes are focused on your face, his pupils blown and sheathing his emerald green irises as he ruts into your thighs. 

It feels like heaven to be pressed between your legs. He thrusts effortlessly, listening to how your moans echo around his bedroom as he fucks his fingers into you, the sounds encouraging him to speed up the rolling of his hips. He wants to hear your whorish moans grow louder and louder, but the sound of his team stirring in the rooms besides yours taint his vulgar imagination, because you can’t be too loud.

You’re never too loud, not when you know people are nearby. So, he has to listen intently to hear you, and his ears twitch as he desperately tries to pick up on your pleasurable noises.

He forces himself to slow down, focusing on you. Your breathing, the soft sound of your breathy moans. Your parted lips, pump and needy, begging to be kissed, and he tries — oh, Lord, does he try, moving desperately to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth — but it’s impossible. He’s bent and you’re curled and the position you’re in is leaving both of your muscles burning, but the desire for more pleasure overrides the neurons of pain which shoot through you.

You sound like an angel. You look like an angel, and he wants to taint you. Ruin you. You’re feathery and soft, so symbolic; heavenly. He wants to drag you to the depths of hell with him, and he feels the head of his cock twitch as you moan his name.

“Please,” you whimper, and he drags his hand away from your hair, moving it down towards your breast. You gasp and push and pull away from him as his fingers roll the sensitive nub between his index and forefinger.

“Please what?” He asks, his voice low and playful as his touch sends sparks coursing through your system. When you don’t speak, instead panting and whining, writhing from his touch, he says, “please, what?”

You can feel the gentle thrumming of his heart against your chest as he toys with you. He keeps toying with your nipples, and then he presses his hand on your chest, hard, pulling you against him, his fingers still working their magic inside of you.

Though he’s desperate for his own orgasm, needy for relief, the edging now causing him to burn and grow irritable, he knows what he wants for you. He wants to hear his angel beg; wants you to fall from heaven and join him in his depths of despair. Your muscles grow rigid, and your thighs clench as he bites you again, lapping up the crimson blood which spills as a result of his canines piercing your skin.

“Please, can I cum?”

He smirks. “Yes, darlin’, you may.”

A choked sob racks through your chest at his words, tears sliding down your cheeks. You clench around his fingers as you cum, your thighs convulsing, twitching, sending him over his own edge. You paint his blue fingers white, the product of your orgasm sticking against his skin, and he lets out a dirty groan as you squeeze his cock, sheathing him in a disgusting brood of pleasure.

Your thighs glisten with your squirt, and Quaritch’s pupils grow blackened and blown as a result. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hips jolting as he stains your skin with ropes of his cum.

You feel his hot liquid hit your thighs, and some of it is wasted on the bedsheets. You curl your hand into a fist, your eyes burning with tears as you grip the silk pillowcase desperately. You’ve orgasmed, but he’s still scissoring his fingers inside of youm toying with your needy cunt.

Quartich begs, “another, please. Give me another, darlin’. You can do it.”

He can’t hide his pursuit. He wants you tainting his skin, wants to lick your cream off of his fingers. He wants to hear you moan, pure and harmonious, and you nod your head vigorously, your body shaking as you desperately chase your second high.

This time, your body grows lax. You grow limp against him, a quiet whimper gliding past your lips as your cum trickles down his fingers, slowly, teasingly. He watches, his chest heaving and burning with passion and desire, his heart thumping in his chest as he readjusts himself, his cock rubbing against your sticky, cum-covered thighs.

Miles Quaritch hates mornings, but it’s better when he’s got you beside him to get him through his struggles of morning wood.

[peachhcs]

Celly propt 7 where Sammy wears Will jersey for the first time as a couple at BC or could be done in the USA era when Will realizes he has felling for Sammy

in his jersey | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

the pining continues between samy and will during the wonder years when she wears his jersey to his ntdp game

1.7k words

i got a bit carried away when writing this lmao. i know this is a celly request, but i also feel like this ask fits into samy and will's wonder years category. writing their pining is soo cutie because they're so oblivious to one another. also posting another fic bc i feel bad leaving y'all dry for a couple days😭

700 celly masterlist | au masterlist

samy pulled the baseball cap further down her head as she sunk into the bleachers beside will's parents. she sported her friend's number across her back, trying to ignore the glaring looks from the other girls three rows down. they were regulars at the home games only because they had crushes on each of the players—specifically will. when samy walked into the rink wearing will's number across her back daggers were instantly shot. those girls were definitely not happy seeing samy wear her friend's number.

she tried ignoring them knowing they were just jealous she knew will specifically. she'd be happy to befriend them, but after months of just glaring, it was obvious they didn't wanna be samy's friend. instead, she sat with her parents and kept her attention on the boys down on the ice doing their warmups.

her eyes glued themselves to her best friend wearing the number 2 which was the same number spread across her back along with his last name. he skated around the ice with gabe and ryan, the three of them doing their warmups together like always. she loved seeing the three of them down there together, smiles painted on each of their lips being able to play the sport they loved together. 

it was also a bit of nostalgia knowing their last games playing for the ntdp were coming close. spring was right around the corner which also meant u18 worlds and after that the boys were completely done with the program. something about all of that felt bittersweet for the boys and samy. 

what would she do without them bugging her either in ann arbor or plymouth every weekend? will finally found her gaze when he looked towards the stands. the smile never left his lips as he waved. it was pretty known by now that he always waved at samy first before shifting his attention to his parents beside her. the blonde skated towards the glass and nodded his head to the right, an indication that he wanted samy down at the open entrance. 

while getting up, the youngest hughes directed a smirk in those other girls' direction. she knew she was about to piss all of them off when they watched her and will interact on the floor. what samy didn't know was that will saw the entire thing. 

he knew those girls liked him and were most definitely jealous of samy. he knew getting her in his jersey would shut them right up and finally get off his back by sending a clear message that he liked his best friend! (of course, samy had no idea though). 

"they're gonna bully my dms if you keep that up," the blonde lifted his helmet as he skated right up to the door where samy waited. 

the girl's entire face flushed in embarrassment, "you saw that?" she grimaced. 

"yeah, i did. it was endearing though. seeing you brag in their faces that you're mine," sometimes will's confidence grew a little too much and he said things without thinking. his own face flushed after realizing he said that. 

"i'm yours, huh?" samy raised her eyebrow. 

"shut up, you know what i mean," but she didn't. she didn't really get what will meant and how badly he wanted to really call her his. 

his stupid feelings were only getting worse and seeing her in his jersey with his all-time favorite number wasn't helping. however, his chest swelled with pride and a feeling of possessiveness knowing that everyone in the arena would see his name plastered across her back. 

"you look good in my jersey, by the way," will pulled at the material that basically swallowed up samy's small frame. 

"i still wonder how you convinced me to wear this," the brunette teased a bit, but secretly she loved it. 

her stupid feelings were only growing stronger and when will begged her to wear his jersey to his game the other day samy nearly confessed right there. even though it was fun watching her best friend beg her for something, she would've worn it regardless. 

"i'm pretty convincing," the boy shrugged smugly. samy rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her trying to act unfazed. 

"good luck tonight, will. you guys are gonna do great," she reached up to place a gentle kiss to his cheek because 1. she always did that and 2. she wanted to make those girls even more jealous than they were. who cared if they went and bullied her and will's dms later. 

"thanks, hughesy. see you after the game?" it was a miracle she didn't notice will's heart eyes. 

"you know where to find me," they said their goodbyes before will's coach came after him for not warming up. 

the game revved up to 5-3 with the ntdp boys on the winning side. samy was on her feet as she cheered on her best friends flying across the ice. the trio worked so well together, speaking wordlessly with one another as they trusted each other and passed the puck around the opposing team. it was almost like a dream watching those boys play and that feeling of bittersweet crept back into samy's mind. 

u18s and then the nhl draft in a few months meaning all of them joining the professional world. it was a day that seemed so far away when they were younger and was now just months away. 

"let's go will!" samy yelled down as the forward made his third goal of the night bringing the score to 6-3. 

the crowd erupted in cheers. the brunette smiled seeing will do his celly with ryan and gabe. immediately, the boy's gaze spun around to find samy's in the stands. they found one another pretty quickly and will pointed up at her, the happiness glowing across his features. his gesture earned a small blush across her cheeks while her parents and will's sent the girl knowing looks because of course they knew their kids liked one another before they even knew. 

once the game finished, samy waited around near the locker room for will to emerge. she usually leaned against the wall scrolling through her phone until the boy came running out. tonight was no different. twenty minutes after the game ended, the blonde was rushing out of the locker room in a happy daze. his curls were hardly even dry as he scooped samy into his arms, spinning her around so her feet weren't even on the ground. 

"so proud of you, will. you played so good," the girl gushed into his shoulder. 

"you always make me play well," his flirting earned another blush on samy's face.  

"shoulda known this was why will pushed everyone out of the way to shower first," ryan teased as he came out a moment later with gabe. 

the boys snickered with one another, but will didn't find it amusing. "shut up," he mumbled. 

"good to see ya, hughes. thanks for coming," ryan collected samy into his own hug. 

"duh, like i'd ever miss a game. you guys played so well," she pinched their cheeks which annoyed the hell out of them, but they let her do it anyway. 

"how much did smitty pay you to wear his jersey?" gabe continued with the chirping. 

all of them but will shared a laugh. he was not finding their remarks as amusing as he usually would tonight, "jesus, do you guys ever shut up?" 

"just a bit of begging and he convinced me," samy squeezed will's arm.

"begging? like hands and knees?" ryan hollered. poor will was now red in the face and wanted to rip his friends' heads off before they said anything more stupid. 

"just like that," samy didn't help. 

"don't we have to meet our parents. i thought they wanted to go out to dinner," will cut in before someone said anything else. 

"right, they're in the lobby," the brunette grabbed ahold of will's arm as they walked together to find their parents. 

after hugging his parents, the two families headed out to find something to eat. will climbed into samy's car since she drove herself up knowing the blonde would most definitely convince her to come back to his house for awhile which then resulted in her sleeping over. good thing it was saturday night and neither of them had practice tomorrow. 

"what am i gonna do when you're a hundred miles away in the fall?" will's gaze fell on samy's even though she was focusing on her parents' car in front of them as they followed them to the restaurant. 

"tough question. probably die," samy teased a little. 

"probably, yeah. i don't think i've ever really played a game without you there," the blonde admitted. she found his gaze for a second. the whole idea of graduating and going to college was a thought swirling around both of their minds lately. 

"i'll be there in spirit watching you through my laptop." 

"not the same, but i guess it'll have to do," will sighed a bit. 

"you know boston's gonna be really lucky to have you. you're a legacy," she poked his arm that was dangerously close to hers on the center console, but it wasn't like either of them were gonna move their arms away. 

"you are too, you know. by association," will smiled. 

"i think quinn and luke nearly fainted when i made it official i was going to michigan," the brunette hummed. 

"michigan definitely gained a good one. you're gonna kill it on the field." 

she met the boy's still lingering gaze. the two shared a loving smile still so oblivious to each other's feelings. they were so obvious, yet both of them didn't see it no matter what anyone said or did. 

the drunk makeouts didn't count because they were drunk, right? the lingering touches was just a friend thing, right? the constant teasing from both of their friends was stupid because none of them knew what they were talking about, right?

wrong. so, so wrong. 

samy did in fact end up back at will's house after dinner. the two curled up on the couch with the tv playing a movie, but neither of them were really paying attention because all they could think about was one another and who would finally have enough courage to confess their feelings. 

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Summer Fic Week 2023 - Day 7: Take Back What You Took

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary:

The season is over, and it's the resort staff party. Andy has a bone to pick.

Sequel to Leave Me In The Deep End.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2998

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Summer Fics Masterlist.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @mcximffs @noz4a2 @rottenstyx @starmansirius @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @alternativeprincess @annocaprosmaloka @thrutheburnout

Notes:

wooooooooo day 7, give it up for day 7

warnings for alcohol, public sex, accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, fighting, protective!pietro, protective!wanda, mentions of cheating, unprotected sex

again, i apologise to all of the people named andy out there

---

As you walked into the resort for the final time that year, you were overcome by a wave of nostalgia. The season was over. All of the guests had gone home, to your great relief. Tonight was the annual staff party.

The seasonal job market was strange. You had other work lined up – waitressing at family-owned restaurant across town – but you knew you would miss the resort. You would miss working with your friends, most of all Pietro. Of course, you would be back next year, as would he. You hoped (probably fruitlessly) that Andy wouldn’t come back.

You’d been seeing Pietro for a little over a month now, and it had been going really well. He slept over at your place a lot (he shared his own apartment with his sister, and you shared yours with a cat, so the choice for him was obvious).

Andy still worked at the resort, which made things a little awkward, but you were perfectly content to keep your distance from him. Pietro had more contact with him than you did, since they were both bartenders, but they hadn’t come to blows yet.

You rolled up to the party a little early. Hardly anyone had arrived yet, but there were tables of food and drinks set up, which you took advantage of. Pietro was coming with his sister, so you were content to help Nat set up the last few decorations.

“Odds on there being a fight tonight?” she asked you as you handed her a bunch of balloons. She was standing on ladder, getting ready to pin them up by the edge of the banner.

“There won’t be a fight,” you said, sounding surer than you felt.

Aside from anything else, Andy could get belligerent when he was drunk, and Pietro could be hot-headed.

Nat gave you a sideways glance. “You sure? You know Sharon’s gonna be here, right? It’s pretty messy between her and Steve at the moment.”

Your cheeks heated up. You hadn’t even thought of the possibility of someone else getting into a fight.

“Nah, Steve’s too much of a gentleman to get into it in public.”

“If you say so.”

People started arriving in dribs and drabs. Thankfully, Andy was nowhere to be seen. You sat down on a couch with a mixed drink in your hand, listening idly to a story that Sam was telling.

The only warning you got that your boyfriend had arrived was a pair of strong arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind. You might’ve flinched, but you recognised his cologne.

“Prinţesă,” he cooed. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Piet,” you scolded, batting his hands away. Sam, Steve and Bucky were all staring at you, a variety of amused expressions on their faces.

“I only tell the truth. Drink?”

“I’ve got one,” you said, holding up your glass. “But honestly it doesn’t hold a candle to your Sex on the Beach.” As a bartender, Pietro was very good at making drinks. Andy was a bartender too, but he’d never particularly been interested in making drinks for you. He didn’t want to take work home with him, you supposed.

“I’ll be right back,” said Pietro, dropping a kiss on the top of your head.

As soon as he was gone, you felt the weight of another person sitting down on the arm of the sofa you were leaning on.

You looked up and were relieved to see that it was Wanda. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a red dress that stood out against her pale skin.

“How are you doing, dragă?” she asked. The two of you had always been friendly. You had half-expected her to dislike you after you started dating Pietro – after all, she was pretty protective of him – but thankfully, the two of you had only seemed to grow closer.

“I’m good, what about you? Excited to be done for the summer?” You knew she was going back to college soon.

“Honestly? I think I’ll miss it once I start having to write essays again.”

“Yeah, I’m glad that part of my life is over.”

A shadow loomed over you suddenly. You turned, expecting Pietro, but from the sour expression that had suddenly come over Wanda’s face, you knew it wouldn’t be.

“Hey,” said Andy. He looked a little unsteady on his feet, like he’d been pre-drinking. Who pre-drinks before a work party with an open bar?

“Hi.” You looked over at Pietro, but he’d been waylaid talking to Scott and Hope. Beside you, Wanda got to her feet. You suddenly felt very vulnerable being the only person sitting down.

“I was hoping we could talk?” He glanced at Wanda, who glared back at him.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you said. You stood up, fully intending to go and find Pietro, but Andy threw a hand out, blocking your path.

“Don’t touch her,” Wanda hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Andy put his hand up in surrender. “Not touching. Just wanna talk.”

“She said she doesn’t want to talk.”

“Wanda, it’s okay,” you said, touching her arm. If Andy wanted to apologise, then you weren’t going to stop him.

He gave you a hard stare. “I just think it’s really funny how quickly you moved on after we broke up.”

That threw you for a loop. You looked at Wanda, who looked just as scandalised as you did.

“Excuse me?” you said, as if you could’ve possibly misheard him. “What did you just say?”

“I said I think it’s funny how quickly you moved on after we broke up.” His speech was slurred, so you knew he had been drinking. You doubted he would’ve had the balls to talk to you like this otherwise, especially not in front of people. “And you and Pietro were always so friendly, so, like-”

You looked at Wanda. “Are you hearing this?”

“The audacity of this asshole,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

You looked back over to where Pietro was, and found him staring back at you. As soon as you made eye contact, he said something to Scott, and then started walking towards you. If there was going to be a fight tonight, it was about to happen.

“I’m the asshole?” Andy scoffed.

“Yes, you’re the asshole,” you said. “You fucking cheated on me! You don’t get to have an opinion about who I sleep with after I broke up with you.”

“You know it’s not gonna last, right? I already told you that. He’ll find someone prettier, and more interesting, and-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Wanda threw her drink in his face. He sputtered for a moment, and then moved as if to slap her, but didn’t get the chance.

Pietro had grabbed his arm and wrestled it behind his back. Andy let out a howl of pain. Pietro twisted him until he was shoved up against the wall, his arm at a painful angle behind him. The room went quiet. You didn’t have to look to know that everyone was watching.

“You think you can get away with being an asshole when I’m not there, you piece of shit?” Pietro muttered. “You think you can just say what you want to my girl without consequences? You don’t get to hurt her anymore, you prick.” His words were dripping with venom. Andy let out a muffled whimper, his face pressed into the wall.

Tentatively, you put a hand on Pietro’s shoulder. He looked at you.

“Too much?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No, that was proportional. You should let him go now, though.”

Pietro released him, and Andy spun around, clutching his arm to his chest. “You think I don’t see what you are, Pietro,” he spat. “I saw you hanging around my girlfriend, being all sweet on her, just waiting for me to make one mistake-”

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head. Pietro stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. He glared down at Andy, but his next words were addressed to you.

“Prinţesă,” he said. “Do you want to get out of here? Because if this asshole doesn’t get out of my face, then I’m gonna end up going to jail.”

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing his arm. “You coming?” you asked Wanda, but she shook her head.

“He wouldn’t dare try anything with me now,” she said. “And this is my last chance to catch up with Nat before school starts again.”

“Alright.” You gave her a side hug and kissed her on the cheek. “Text me when you get home.”

“You too.”

Pietro gave his sister a hug, never taking his eyes off Andy. Andy was leaning against the wall, cradling his arm to his chest, looking as shrunken and pathetic as you’d ever seen him.  

You waved goodbye to your coworkers, who had all been watching the scene unfold, though none of them looked particularly surprised.

As soon as you stepped out into the open air, you exhaled. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed,” said Pietro, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“Are you kidding? You jumping in to defend me is, like, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He gave you a wry smile. “You wanna go for a walk down the beach?”

“With you? Always.”

Once you got down the sand, you kicked off your shoes. You tried to pick them up, but Pietro got there first, flashing you a grin as he slung them over his shoulder. His other hand found your waist, keeping you pressed close to him.

“You know what’s nice?” you said idly.

“Hm?”

“I thought the shit Andy was saying would bother me, but I’m past the point of caring. Who cares if he thinks that I cheated on him with you? Who cares if he thinks you’re gonna trade me in for someone hotter?”

“If he thinks that there’s anyone hotter than you then he’s a fucking idiot, and he never deserved you.”

Warmth prickled across your skin. The moon was high in the sky, and Pietro hand was warm on your lower back.

“He’s an idiot,” you agreed. “And he doesn’t know you at all. You’re not who he thinks you are. I think it makes him feel better to think all men are assholes, because that way, it’s not his fault that he’s an asshole. The idea that you’d be good to me is so foreign to him.”

Pietro stopped walking. “Being good to you is easy. You inspire the good in me.”

Your heart stuttered. Under the moonlight, you could see the earnest expression on his face.

“Pietro…” you breathed.

I think I’m falling in love with you. Do you feel the same?

You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say the words. You weren’t drunk enough. It was too soon. Instead, you stood up on your tiptoes and kissed him on the lips.

“Sit with me?” he murmured when you separated, and you nodded.

More gracefully than you thought possible, he fell back into the sand, pulling you into his lap as he went.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His lips found a spot under your ear, sending tingles down your spine. His hand slid up under your skirt, skimming up your thigh until you shivered.

“Pietro, we’re in public,” you murmured half-heartedly.

“Do you want me to stop?” You could feel him smiling against the skin of your neck.

“No.”

“Good.”

His fingers slid past your panties, finding you wet and wanting. You let out a soft moan as he bit down on your neck, skimming his finger through your wetness.

“Piet,” you whined, threading your fingers into his curls.

“Mm?”

“I need you.”

He pulled back to grin at you, and then he turned, rolling you onto your back. Sand was getting into every fold of your clothes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when Pietro put his head under your skirt.

He mouthed over you through your panties, dragging a strangled groan from deep within you. When he peeled them away from your pussy, you could feel that they were stuck to you.

Earlier on in your relationship, you would’ve been embarrassed, but you knew that it turned Pietro on to see how wet he could make you. You stared up at the stars above you, your free hand drawing patterns in the sand as your boyfriend got to work between your thighs.

You closed your eyes.

You could hear the ocean. You could hear your own unsteady breathing. You could hear the wet sounds as Pietro licked and sucked and kissed your pussy.

“So pretty,” he mumbled. “So fucking beautiful and all mine.” He got like this sometimes, writing love letters to your pussy with his tongue, burying his face in you until you were the sum total of his experiences of the world.

Even though neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet, he made you feel more loved than Andy ever had.

Your thighs were trembling. The heat was building inside you, ready to tip you over the edge. You knew that Pietro could tell. He dug his fingernails into the flesh of your thigh, speeding up the ministrations of his tongue.

“Cum for me, prinţesă,” he murmured, as if he was speaking to your pussy. He sucked your clit into his mouth and you let out an unexpected high-pitched gasp, clenching around nothing.

You moaned his name, cresting the wave of your orgasm. He held you through it, his fingers and tongue making you feel pleasure that, two months ago, would’ve been inconceivable to you.

He didn’t stop immediately, and your clit was starting to hurt, so you tapped him on the shoulder. He emerged from under your skirt, bright-eyed and licking his lips. You tugged him on top of you, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth. You could taste yourself in him.

“Can I fuck you?” he panted. “I could feel how tight you got when you came and I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard.”

“Please,” you groaned, your hands dropping to the button of his jeans. With his help, he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees and then positioned himself between your legs.

You were both still mostly clothed – you were, after all, in public – and somehow that seemed to add to the desperation of the situation. Your fingers knotted themselves in his shirt, and he was holding onto the fabric that had bunched up at your hips.

When he slid inside you, you both groaned. Even though you had been dating for a month, every time felt like the first. He stretched you out, making you whimper his name.

By now, he knew how you liked it. He knew how to nibble at your neck just right, and the angle he needed to reach your g-spot. He grabbed your thigh, hooking your ankle over his shoulder, and started to fuck you, hard and deep.

He gave you less time to adjust than usual – you were both a little drunk and it felt too good to wait – so you were sure you’d be sore in the morning. You didn’t care. All you cared about was that right now, Pietro was making you see stars.

Besides, he would be there in the morning to bring you breakfast and kiss you better. He always took care of you.

Right now, he was quite a sight to behold: on his knees, debauched, hair a mess, shirt rucked up and jeans halfway down his thighs. You had done that to him. No one else got to see him like this. Not anymore.

Evidently, he had gotten bored of not kissing you, so he readjusted his angle, hooking your leg over his hip instead, and hovered over you. His forearms were either side of your head, caging you in. He was looking into your eyes with such intensity that you almost looked away. Almost.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he breathed, and your pussy clenched unexpectedly. At the sudden tightness, his eyes fell closed, a moan halfway out of his mouth before he knew what was happening.

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you grabbed his face and kissed him.

He smiled against your lips, the rhythm of his hips never faltering. Lying there on the beach, he made love to you. You never wanted it to end.

Eventually, it did end. He clawed at your sides, burying his face in your neck as his thrusting sped up. You slid your hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit to try and bring you to your second peak. Pietro got there first.

He pulled out, cum splattering all over your thighs. He didn’t even take a second to catch his breath before diving back between your legs, pushing three fingers inside you and licking over your clit.

You moaned his name as you came for the second time, breathless and wet and so, so in love. This time, you had to pry him off you. Even as your legs twitched and you whimpered with overstimulation, he didn’t stop.

When you pushed him away, he rolled over onto his back, laying down beside you.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“Wow,” he agreed.

You rolled over, about to rest your head on his chest, but a movement at the edge of the beach caught your eye. Standing by the treeline that encircled the beach, mouth agape, was Andy.

When he saw you looking, he bolted. You sat up.

“What is it?” asked Pietro. “Something wrong?”

“Andy was watching us.”

He sat up, twisting around to look where you were looking.

You shook your head. “He’s gone.”

“Well… shit.”

“Shit.” You giggled.

He regarded you for a moment. “Do we care?”

“I guess not?”

“Okay, good.” He lay back on the sand, patting his chest. You took the hint, laying down half on top of him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

[beedreamscape]

Evandrin's laughs increases and so does Zerxus' worry.

His amber eyes follow as he paces their living room. "Is everything alright?"

Evandrin nods, unable to stop his laughing. "Perfect, this is... this is wonderful."

Zerxus takes a deep breath and leans back on the armchair, the invitation pinched between his fingers, allowing his husband the time to settle down. It was one piece of the most luxurious invitation box both had ever seen, parts now layed out over their dinner table.

The nervous laughter settles into a pained sound, deep dimple between his fair brows. "Oh my, I'm a terrible person."

"No, you're not." Zerxus leans forward, elbows to his knees, that look so close to the one he makes when Elias is misbehaving. "What is worrying you?"

"I'm not... worried, per se. I- I'm not ready to let go of Laerryn."

"She'll still be your best friend. She's just getting married, Van, she's not leaving for war. She's not even leaving the neighborhood!"

"That lucky bastard Loquatius. You know how long she and I had to hunt for even the crappiest apartment when we first got here? We almost slept on the streets cause everything was too expensive but we would've done it if it meant staying in Avalir..."

His smile slowly fades as the wave of nostalgia recedes, leaving just the memories on the sand.

Zerxus offers a kind smile. "You never told me that."

"Didn't I? I guess it just never came up before this." He casts his eyes upon the now empty velvet and gold invitation box.

"This is worrying me, you haven't had these doubts about them before."

"Because I didn't comprehend the depths of her feelings for him. I thought he was just a fun pastime, a spice to her life, a trinket of a friend. Yes, they've spent so much time together that even I started to get a little jealous, but I had imagined sooner or later she'd get sick of him. Laerryn is my twin soul but she doesn't talk to me about those big feelings. When she tried to explain it to me last week, when she told me they were getting married, I genuinely thought she was joking."

"Is Loquatius the cause of your worry?"

"No. Well, not exactly. I trust Laerryn's judgment. Even though he's quite the character... not to mention his newspaper thing is growing crazy fast and you know how these people in big media are! It was their own hubris that toppled the Zenith News before him."

"And you think it's a bad thing that he's successful?"

"Of course not. So long as he doesn't let it go to his head! Zerxus, I swear if he steps out of line and hurts Laerryn, I don't know what I'm capable of."

Zerxus gets up, towering over Evandrin by a few good inches, and places those heavy hands of his over his shoulders.

"I don't know Laerryn as much as you do, I never will, but if I know one thing about her is that she's a force to be reckoned with. She's also a really smart woman. It's takes a man of character and courage to claim her heart. Loquatius apparently has both."

"I wonder if he knows what he's getting into. She's a wonderful woman, but she's a challenge. I've told her as much many times before."

"They are quite different people but I don't think that's news to anybody."

Evandrin looks deep into his husband's eyes. "Love makes fools out of us."

Zerxus gives a hearty laugh. "Yes, you married me after all."

After a long laugh, he makes an exasperated sound, throwing his hands up. "Who would've thought!? Laerryn Coramar falling in love! Loving that person enough to get married! And so young..."

"Isn't she 130 something?"

"142. Which is quite young for a high-elf, not immature by any means but with centuries ahead of her. She's a sturdy one, I wouldn't be surprised if she lived well beyond a millennia. Which changelings certainly don't."

"Won't that mean she'll then be free to pursue other people in the future?"

"But she'll carry the grief of his loss with her. If he doesn't decide to whisk her away to the Fey realm, that is. Oh Zerxus, I don't even like thinking about it."

"I think it'd take more than an army to drag Laerryn away from the city she calls hers. I'm glad someone could find home here." Before Evandrin can comment on that, he continues. "I think the best way to put your soul at rest would be to talk to Laerryn herself. No one will be more straightforward about this."

"Maybe later, this is probably already enough pressure over her. Her first replenishment as Architect Arcane and now this, she doesn't need the added weight of me questioning the complex puzzle of her feelings."

Zerxus offers his hand which Evandrin takes readily.

"Do you trust her?"

Evandrin doesn't hesitate, not even for half a second.

"With my life."

"Then you can trust, whatever the either very simple or extremely convoluted explanation to this decision might be, that she knows what she's doing."

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

A Marble in a Mixed Bag

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Reader

Words: 814

Some affections reach past the bounds of universes.

Tags: oneshot, nostalgia, hope, pre-httyd 1, gender neutral reader, gn!reader

Polyvinyl Chloride and gloss, plastic grass pieces under faux brown boots, brushed and scratched to create the illusion of furs- You ogled at it through the glass window, smudged by the oils and debris of the people before you. 

Hot air brushed back up against your face, warm and heated, nearly suffocating, trapped in the distance between your mouth and the glass, of which there was little.

You weren't sure which company had made it, but you could imagine what the site had looked like on preorder, seedy and poorly text-ed, all garish color of border-less screen.

Airbrushed hair and cheeks, dappled freckles along two cheeks and a dandy, uneven wry grin frame just above a spruced shirt in the green tunic style- It was a piece of art, a statuette, and very much out of your price range. 

It was an unprofessional shop, dark and stuffed and almost messy but really not in a very homey way, with maybe imports and some other odd, geeky things hidden behind.

People moved to and fro behind you, sweaty mall crowds, musty with the smell and feel of body heat and cheap fabrics and perfumes and stiff, swaying plastic bags, filling what space was left with mindless, enthused chatter, nearly incomprehensible, words lost in the sea of many bodies.

You hardly paid them any mind. You hardly paid it all any mind- you were too busy yearning.

It was quite the odd one out compared to the large plastic mechas besides, or perhaps a few boxes away, packaged and place tightly together with too-close-together text and full box sides and millions of mark-down stickers in white and yellow, all grays and bright blues and reds and other fanciful colors, with garish metal fillings and nearly transparent resin.

Sickly mall lights glinted against shiny, beaded eyes, covered in a thin film of whatever hardened chemical, covering ivory white and a timid neutral green. It was so clear, nearly square, curving over a round surface. You could nearly see the lines of the ceiling way up in its reflection, clear as it was, slightly affected by the ever-present motion of the awning world behind you. 

If eyes could sparkle- you something eager pressed against the corner of your eyes, your heart picking up in speed. 

So strong was the feeling and the excitement in your chest that it threatening to have you shivering and shaking and your hands waving, floating, hopping on two feet, but you stayed still, jaw tensing, mouth curling upwards, hands coming up to hesitantly press against smooth, smudged, oily glass.

Mowing lawns, cutting hair, running around like a headless chicken, chores, hopes, dreams and wantings- you wanted.

Hiccup- well, he’d never been into dolls, but this was more a figure than a doll, like one of his cousin’s many carved warriors, all made up of dragon bone pieces and scratched wooden surfaces, stone helmets and mismatched, dull metal axes. The ones he’d paraded around just as he’d worn his own too-large helmet and had run around with wooden swords and shields that Hiccup had never been big enough to carry when he’d been young enough to play with them. 

Of course he’d been jealous, but then he’d gotten you.

His fingertips grazing over its surface as he held onto its delicate middle with his other hand, feeling just as fond just as something else inside him felt nearly worshipful.

It had been made incredibly smooth with age, the feeling offset only by a set of notches in its side, scratches made on accident by trips and falls and the very rare drop.

You’d been lost for much too long. There was a feeling…

Childhood, of companionship, truest feelings and long-held assurance -the only one, the smallest, rag-yarn clay figure- he one he’d been given, a friend that he could keep and play with, play-fight with and foster happy moments.

Dusts and soots and oils left a mark against your frayed doll cheek raising recent memories of levers and axles and stoney forge fires, bolas and boulders and clogs and rolling wheels.

Something in his chest felt incredibly warm, looking over its scratched face, eyes clumsily drilled into the surface by the point of a dull knife, wooden and stone limb pieces attached haphazardly to one another, all worn cloth and rag, hair made of knotted, old wool- As if you, small and faux, looking back up at him with your own soft, cracked, tiny ball eyes, had somehow found something worthy in scrawny shoulders and mottled, freckled cheeks. 

In them, there was something almost like a shine.

Admiration.

That’s what it was.

He’d nearly forgotten.

It gave him hope.

Maybe he could make something of himself.

Tonight, more than any other night, he had faith- tonight, he was going to make it, because now, more than ever, he had something to make it for.

[bromcommie]

WIP word search 2: electric boogaloo

Many thanks to @painted-doe who posted an excellent part 2 to this tag game (go check it out wink wink) and left an open tag with the keywords guard, break, true and left. I have to admit I feel like a dog chasing its own tag tail lol but the first one was so fun I just couldn't resist. Anyway!

Guard:

Groundhog Day except it's not Groundhog Day but instead amnesiac psychological horror. (Imagine this is indented—I’m editing on mobile, and Tumblr is misbehaving.)

They take him out of the dark and into a blue room. Empty, square, clear sightlines. Single exit, no windows. He knows this story, just like he knows the story of his dream: six guards, armed. Table, gun, a man on his knees like a test he's taking for the first time but knows he'll fail. Knobby bones at the top of his spine.

So why are the shadows wrong?

Because the man is him. Because the gun is a red herring.

They beat him until he stops making noise and then some more for good measure. He doesn’t remember what he did to deserve it, and he doesn’t ask. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t do much of anything, really, except maybe wait.

Asking questions. That's what you forget after sitting in it for too long, he remembers now. You forget there's questions to be asked in the first place. You forget there's something outside of the hole you're sitting in.

Sometimes doing nothing is worse.

He waits for the bullet. He keeps waiting for the goddamn bullet. He doesn’t know what he is, but he thinks it might be a stupid motherfucker. The bullet’s not coming.

When he asks for it, it’s in English.

They put him back under.

Break:

Rogers is still staring at him like he’ll go up in a puff of smoke if he looks away. His hair’s grown out from the last time they’ve come face to face, falling floppy across his forehead and curling a little where he’s still damp and flushed from his shower. It suits him better, he thinks fuzzily; makes him look less sharp around the edges. Less like a stone carveout and more like a breathing thing. He doesn’t understand why that makes the loss surge even more.  Желание, his mind insists again unprompted, and it rings out through him like another shot fired. He needs to break the standstill they’ve arrived at but he feels terribly cold all of a sudden, skin gone clammy with it. The searing pain in his abdomen has been replaced by a dull tingling, spreading rapidly like wildfire to the rest of his body, the plates in his arm whirring and recalibrating wildly under his jacket trying to interpret the signal, keep up with the pounding of his heart. He’s bleeding out, he thinks distantly. Operational integrity compromised. Yeah, no fucking shit.

True:

From another unfinished episode from orpheus, in which Steve goes down memory lane and he and Bucky hit the beach. (Kind of.)

From a young age Bucky and he were both, predictably, enchanted with the damn thing. They’d put their ear to the shell's opening in turns and name all the things they could hear: Waves. Wind. Crab. Fish. Fisherman almost catching it and cursing when it got away. Bagpipes. Bagpipes? Yes, bagpipes. Drums, too. Whales. There’s no whales in Ireland, stupid. What do you know, you’ve never been. Neither have you. I guess. Maybe we can go together. People splashing. Ice cream seller. Someone kicking a ball down the boardwalk. A lot of the time, these near-mythical beaches of Ireland ended up sounding a lot like Coney Island. None of it was true, of course. The actual sounds were the product of the air’s vibration inside the curve of the shell having nowhere to escape. The stories they made up around them were a product of an unfettered imagination and an unshakeable generational nostalgia for a place they would never know. The conch itself was a product of a trinket shop in Brighton Beach, New York, which was over 3000 miles away from Kenmare, Ireland, and it was long collecting dust on a shelf before Steve’s mother bought it on a whim one day in early 1918. It had cost a whopping three dollars, which was more than she had to give for a cheap trinket as a 22-year-old with a baby on the way and fresh off the boat to boot, but it had reminded her, somehow, of home: of the flat pale serpentine of sand she would go to that never had such exotic gems to offer, of the people she’d gone with, of the sound and touch of the water. Sarah was a sensible woman, utilitarian in her logic and uncompromising in her decision-making. Between her and her husband, Joseph had gotten the majority share of designated emigree sentimentality. But the seashell reminded her of him, too, of the space that separated them and the indeterminable time that would pass before he and the many men like him could come home. So in the end sensible, pragmatic little Sarah Rogers parted with her hard-earned three dollars, and the Atlantic conch from the wrong side of the Atlantic returned home with her, meticulously packed in newspaper and stuffed to the bottom of her purse like a treasure much greater than it was. Joe Rogers, of course, never did return. He and the many men like him were buried on the wrong side of the Atlantic because of a war that, like most wars, had nothing to do with them in particular. For all of her outspoken opinions, his mother never talked about it. Like the real provenance of the conch, like the thing hiding in the folds of the silence that hangs between him and Bucky now, it was another truth easier left unsaid. He never thought her a coward for it. He’s not sure he can extend himself the same courtesy.

Left:

More from the epistolary chapter:

Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is this: I wouldn’t mind. Going back home or what used to be home means little to me now—it’s not even all the differences. Name’s the same, and some of the streets still smell like mold and piss and trash and it can get loud and alive and busy as all hell. There’s the brick and the trees and the water and that constant feeling of catching something in the corner of your eye when you walk down the street. But the buildings they’re building now are all big and shiny and new, and the people building them are all big and shiny and new. The folks we knew are all dead or forgotten or forgetting, just like Oisín’s Fianna. There’s no real home left to go back to. That’s probably why I stayed away as long as I did after that first time—it made me feel even more like a ghost. I think it makes you feel like that too except it hurts you worse, somehow. I see it every time you talk about it, don’t think I don’t. Something about the way you get all hazy around the eyes, and then go quiet on me if I can’t remember a goddamn thing about whatever it is you’re talking about. Well there’s not a lot I can fix up about the remembering part, that much I’ve figured out by now, but I’d do a hell of a lot more than retell old stories like these if it got that bone-tired look off your face. So there it is I guess. You asked what I want to do and the real, honest to God answer is: I have no idea. But if you asked, I would. If you said tomorrow Come back to Brooklyn with me I’d let myself do it and I wouldn’t mind. If you said Let’s go to Brazil or Bengal or Bulgaria, let’s see the world, I’d go. The way we’re both built now we might as well be cursed with immortality like those folks in Tir na nÓg—but I’d let myself grow old somewhere out there and live quietly and maybe help some people if I could before I kicked the bucket, and I don’t think I’d mind that at all if I got to do it with you by my side. I know. I know you won't ask. You never do, not for a single thing you could keep for yourself. But it's a nice thought, sweetheart. It really is. Maybe I can keep it for you.

I’m gonna go the same way as my predecessor and make this an open tag, so if you’re reading this—congrats! You’re tagged! Your words are gentle, burn, breath, control, or you can take the ones I did, or both. Either way, feel free to tag me!