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dalliancekay · 3 months

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.

Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores. Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spent the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. He was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, I' sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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monzabee · 1 year

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like real people do – cl16 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where you are having sex with your boyfriend, Charles, for the first time but he wants everything to be perfect for you.

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: smut (i can’t believe this day has arrived), absolute filth towards the end i'm so sorry mom, charles being a romantic dork, insecurities, obsessively planning something for it to only go wrong, cursing, fluff towards the end, google translate French, minors dni!!

Request: “Hi!!! Maybe you could do a first time with Charles Leclerc? Where he is upset because he wants everything to be perfect. And he whispers to her how much he loves her and her body. And maybe a sweet aftercare at the end?Just a suggestion <3 Have a nice day!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you so much for the feedback and love you’ve left on my last fic! this one was fun to write but please beware that this is my first-time writing smut in my life. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Dating Charles is easy, you think. Not in a bad way, no. But in a way that makes it very easy for you to lost yourself in him and your love for him, which doesn’t make you feel scared whether you guys are moving too fast or too slow. Charles always tells you that you should live your life on your own pace, without any comparison to other people’s – although he doesn’t seem to practice what he preaches, both figuratively and literally on the track.

You love the story of how you two met, and you know he does, too. He brings it up often when the two of you are on a date, sharing the last course of the night, dessert, even though the two of you are probably full and can’t possibly eat anymore. The two of you met almost a year ago, in France actually, after the disaster of a race. Charles was forced by his friends, mainly Pierre, to go out for the night to hopefully have some drinks and let off some steam. You, on the other hand, were on possibly the worst date you could ever remember being on in your entire life. Therefore, being the only two people who are having the worst time in the small bar, you two met on the back patio where you thought you’d be able to get some alone time. Although the two of you don’t hit it off immediately, the only thing you could think about by the end of the night is when you might see the Monegasque with the dimples again. You guys don’t start dating immediately either, no, because Charles insists that it is important for you two to get to know each other as friends first. You agree, mostly because he is right, and also because you are impressed by the fact that he is showing emotional maturity in a way you did not experience in your past relationships before. But it is easy with Charles, even if he has an inhumane work schedule most of the year and your guys’ schedules don’t match up most of the time, you make time for each other. He knows how much your career means to you and you know the same goes for him so the two of you are very careful not to cross any lines. That doesn’t mean that Charles doesn’t spend all of his free time with you, of course.

Another interesting thing about your relationship is the fact that you two haven’t had sex yet, although you’ve been together for a while. Some people are genuinely shocked to find this little fact out, for example when you told Lily she almost dropped the coffee mug she was carrying, or sometimes Charles’ friends like to make fun of the situation, mostly Pierre (in reality, only Pierre), though it’s all in good fun. You don’t feel weird about the fact that you two haven’t slept together yet, but you ask him whether there’s a certain reason why and Charles’ answer turns you into a sobbing mess in his arms. He explains that while he would love to fuck your brains out – in the most respectful way possible – but he want is to be perfect for your first time. In his mind, he is trying to show you how serious he is about your relationship by slowing down the pace and taking his time, and when he’s finally able to put it in words, they make you tear up in the best way possible. That’s not to say that the two of you didn’t partake in other forms of sexual intimacy per se. For example, there’s that one time where he came into his driver’s room after a particularly adrenaline filled race and dropped to his knees for you – you can still recall the devilish smile on his face and the fact that he never took his eyes off of you, not once. There was the time after the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony, of course, where the two of you managed to sneak out of the ceremony into one of the bathroom stalls and this time you were the one on your knees for him. In conclusion, neither of you feel you’re missing out on anything just because you haven’t had sex yet.

It’s a couple of months after the last time you brought up the topic of having sex when the two of you stumble onto the topic again. It’s by an accident, really – and not much of a discussion, only a couple of words exchanged between the two of you. The two of you are watching a new movie which finally made its way onto Netflix, and you’re very happy with your place on the couch – squeezed between the cushions with the side of Charles’ body, which is very warm and making you a little sleepy to be honest. However, your sleepy mood is quickly wiped away when you realise the soft moans coming from the TV. You let your eyes take in the scene before you, the actors on the screen not slowing down for a second when you realise Charles’ breathing has gone deeper. He involuntarily tightens his arm around your shoulders, pressing you more into his sides.

“Charles,” you mumble, bringing your gaze up to him and swallowing a deep breath once his green eyes meet yours.

“Yes, chérie?” Although the focus on his eyes are on you, you can tell that he is also very much aware of the developing scene on the TV. His eyes widen when he realises what your silent request is and he exhales sharply. “Chérie…”

You hide your face in his neck at the gentle rejection he offers, leaving soft kisses across the skin left open from the neckline of his hoodie. “Please, mon coeur.” You think your choice of words does it for a second. It usually does it, when you speak French because you don’t do it very often, but one look in his eyes tells you tonight won’t be the night. “But why?” you whine, almost childishly, burying your face deeper in his neck.

“Because you need perfection, mon amour.” He replies, but there is a strain in his voice due to the tightness in his sweatpants.

“I don’t need perfection.” You grumble, your sexual tension feeling overwhelming for the moment.

“Maybe not,” Charles replies, taking a deep breath. “But you deserve it.”

You inhale deeply at his words too, occupying your hands with the strings of his hoodie. “Soon?” you ask in a hopeful voice.

He leaves a soft kiss on your hairline with an affirmative hum. “Soon,” he promises.

It’s a couple of weeks later that incident when you find yourself back in his apartment in Monaco. Due to the flexibility your work provides now that you’re taking on more freelance roles. Charles was worried you took the step because of his own schedule, but you quickly assured him that you were feeling burnt-out because of the 9-to-5 hustle. So when you step in his apartment that evening, you take in the sight with a small smile on your face.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce your arrival, presenting the flowers in your hand with a proud expression as you enter the kitchen.

“Chérie!” He welcomes you, walking towards you from behind the counter and engulfing you in one of his bear hugs – which are your favourite, of course. “Welcome home, I’ve missed you.”

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t sent me out to get my nails, you silly goose.” You giggle, getting out of his arms and leaving a kiss on his cheek to go find a vase for the bouquet in your hands.

“I needed time, and you know why.” He crosses his arms in his chest and a small smirk finds a place on his face as he raises his eyebrows. “You bought me flowers?”

“Well, yes,” You shrug, “everyone deserves flowers, no?”

“Hm,” he lets out a small hum, and gets behind you while you’re filling up a vase with water. He places his chin on your shoulder as he speaks in a low voice. “I got you flowers as well; you know.”

“Oh, I know, I saw them on the dining room table.” You smile as you look at the flowers placing them on an empty place on the counter and turning your head back to look at Charles. “I love them, thank you, darling.”

He kisses your lips softly, “I’m glad you like them.” He perks up when the oven timer indicates that the dinner is ready. So he takes your hand and walks you towards the door, “You go wait in the dining room, I’ll be right over.”

He comes into the dining room a little while later carrying a pizza presented on a large plate with what you think to be artistically placed basil leaves. You smile widely at him while he puts the plate on the table and serves the two of you. “You cooked me pizza?” You ask, pressing your lips together to prevent you from smiling like a maniac.

“I know it’s your favourite.” He smiles wildly right back at you, motioning your plate. “You first, I wanna see your reaction.”

“Okay!” You answer him, picking up the slice and taking a bite out of it. As you start to chew the piece, you widen your eyes and let out a hum to disguise your reaction. Although it takes you a minute or two to swallow the piece in your mouth, his excited eyes never leave yours for a moment. “It’s great! Which recipe did you use, honey?”

“I’m glad you asked,” he answers you, picking up his own piece, “it’s a recipe I found online.” He bites a mouthful out of the pizza and as he begins to chew, his eyes widen and suddenly he is spitting the food into a napkin as politely as he can. “Jesus, what’s wrong with this thing?” His eyes move towards your face and widens even more. “Chérie, you can’t possibly like this.”

“What, no!” You say, dragging out the last letter. “It’s great, Charles, really.” You start to take another bite, but he stops you with an incredulous look on his face.

“Chérie, non! You’re going to give yourself food poisoning!” He shakes his head, and takes out his phone to check the recipe after you ask him once again which recipe he used. “It’s the one from ‘Food Network’. It’s supposed be edible, no?”

“Oh, Charles.” You sigh, softly, looking over the American measurements instead of the European ones.

His confused eyes find yours. “What?” he asks with a genuine concern.

“They are in the American form, not the European ones.” You answer, a hand stroking his forearm in attempts to bring him sympathy.

“Oh my god, I– I’m sorry, chérie.” He sighs, leaning his head back towards the back of the chair and letting out a frustrated groan. “I am stupid.”

“You are not stupid, Charles.” You assure him, you hand is still on his arm to hopefully convince him that he is not, in fact, stupid. “It’s a common mistake.”

“But non, it was supposed to be edible!” He points to the dough on your plate frustratedly and adds, “I even got you the wine you liked so we could share it.”

“You got me wine to share?” You ask him softly. “But you don’t even like wine.”

His answer is simple. “But you do.” He takes a moment to reflect and then brings his hands up to cover his face. “Oh my god, I forgot to take the wine out of the freezer.”

“Charles, please,” You try to move his hands from his face, but he stubbornly keeps them there, letting out a groan in the process. “Okay, nope, enough.” You announce, getting up from your chair and try to forcefully pull him out of his chair.

“No, mon amour, stop.” He argues, but you keep pulling him towards the bedroom with still chanting the words; no and nope.

When you finally get to the bedroom and open the door, you’re quite surprised to find another surprise there. You let your eyes wander through the rose petals and candles in the room – though, yes, it is a bit cheesy, you know the reason he went to this far is only to make you feel special and appreciated. “Charles,” you say his name with softness, and emotion, and (maybe) with tears but your hand in his tightens the moment you lay your eyes on him. “I love you, God, I love you.”

“I love–” He can’t finish the rest of his sentence because suddenly you pull his face against yours, and press your lips onto his. His hands are quick to find your waist, and pull you against him. His movements are slow as he leads you towards the bed, but he lets you have control over the kiss and tries to match your rhythm as you deepen the kiss. As you get closer to the bed, one of his hands find your ass and when he squeezes the flesh under his hands, he is also quick to swallow your moans in his kiss.

You let out a protesting hum when he tries to put you on top of the bed, so he slowly pulls away from the kiss and raises his eyebrows questioningly. “No.” You murmur, quickly switching your positions and gently pushing him to sit on the bed. “My turn.” You quickly place yourself to sit on his lap with a playful smile on your face. You let your hands wander across his shirt-clad chest, quickly starting to unbutton it while keeping your eyes on his. He assists you when you try to pull his shirt off of him and sigh dreamily at the sight, and softly pushing him on his shoulder to lie down on the bed. You proceed to drop your head and press kisses to anywhere and everywhere on his skin. You start with his lips, which he tries to deepen but quickly gives up because he understands what you’re trying to do, then his jaw and neck, his chest and eventually through the happy trail which leads your mouth to the destination you were hoping to achieve. Your start to unbutton his pants and try to undo his belt buckle, but he stops your shaky hands to bring you back up despite your protests.

“No, chérie, not tonight.” Although his tone is firm, you try to get back to your previous position in hopes that we will let you. However, he tightens his hands on your hips to keep you in place as he pulls you close and whispers, “I said no, mauvaise fille.” bad girl. A smirk threatens to etch itself on his face when he hears your soft whine at his attempt to chastise you. He brings one of his hands to rest on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck and allows his thumb to caress your bottom lip. “You’re going to let me worship you, n'est-ce pas? wont you? Before I fuck you, I mean.”

Your breath nearly gets stuck in your throat, but you manage to let out a soft, “Charles.”

“Tell me, mon amour, or I won’t touch you tonight at all.” There is a mischievous look on his face which is laced with months of built-up sexual tension – rather a dangerous combination, you reckon.

“Y-yes.” You breath out. “I will let you.”

“You will let me do what, my love? Say it in French.” He moves his hand to cover your neck and applies the smallest bit of pressure he knows you like, enough to keep you on your toes but not enough to cut the air completely or leave any bruises. “You know I love it when you speak in French.”

“Je– Charles.” You quickly give up as you try to string the correct words together but his persistent gaze has you trying again and again to find the right ones. “Je te laisserai me toucher.” I will let you touch me.

The smirk on his face turns wicked as he clicks his tongue. “Ne touche pas, dis-moi le mot juste, chérie.” Not touch, tell me the correct word, darling. “I won’t touch you tonight if you don’t tell me,” he reminds you.

You let out a whine as you try to move your hips to gain some friction for relief, but his hand, which is still on your hip, stops you from doing so. Moving your hands to slowly hold his wrist, which belongs to the hand currently wrapped around your neck, you look him straight in the eyes with a panic. “Adorer! Je te laisserai m'adorer!” Worship, I will let you worship me!

“Bonne fille,” Good girl, he mumbles getting you out of your dress in no time. But he takes time with your underwear, allowing his fingers to explore as he teases you – no doubt. He slowly lays your body on top of the bed, and moves his body to sit between your parted legs. “Beautiful,” he whispers as he lets his eyes wander through the curves of your body, your chest, and eventually the wet spot between your legs. “Are you wet for me, my love?”

You nod timidly, partly due to the fact that you’re completely naked while he only has his shift off. It’s not that you two haven’t been naked together before, but it feels much more different this time compared to before. “Charles, please.” Your whine is much high in pitch this time, feeling needier as the minutes go by. “Please, do something.”

“I will, mon chérie, don’t worry.” He moves down on the bed and lowers himself on his knees and pulls your legs over his shoulders. “Just don’t forget to tell me if it gets to much, okay?”

“Okay– my God, Charles!” You throw your head back as Charles begins his mission – which must be, when looking back, eating you out like a mad man because the second he places his tongue on your slit, he begins to devour you as if he’s been starving for years. As he licks and nips and sucks at you skin, you have no control over the reactions your body supplies him with, which is mostly chanting his name over and over again. And you are pretty sure that he becomes more motivated to make cum every time your voice gets higher both in voice and pitch. You don’t know how long it has been and how many orgasms he’s given you just with his mouth and fingers. Three? Four? Five? You’re not sure – but the one thing you know is that when you’re just about to come again, you weave your hands through his hair and pull hard. In retrospect, it seemed like a good idea, but you come to regret that decision when Charles takes your clit between his lips and sucks just as hard, guiding through a mind-blowing orgasm which leaves you shaking and arching your back against the Monegasque. Just as you thought that would be it, he begins to restart his fingers’ movements, which has you pushing his head off of your pussy in an attempt to stop him. “Charles, I can’t anymore!”

That seems to do it, because with a feverish look on his face, Charles lifts his head up and holds on to your thighs which are still on the either side of his head. “What’s wrong, mon amour?”

“I can’t – I’m sorry,” you babble through the involuntary tears, mostly due to the force of your orgasm – which does leave him worried but he lets you finish your thoughts before he takes any action. “Please just fuck me.”

“Shh,” he soothes you, leaving small kisses to your upper thighs and moves himself to hover over your body. “You did so well, bonne fille.” He strokes your hair as he whispers sweet nothings to your ear, helping you to calm down and regulate your breathing before the two of you continue. “Breath, bonne fille, ma bonne fille.”

You listen to him as he gives you instructions, breathing deeper breaths and trying to keep your focus on his eyes while you do so. Your hands grip his biceps tightly when he makes a move to get up, the look in your eyes becoming panicky once again. “Where are you going?”

His hand continue its movements in your hair as he smiles at you softly. “I’m going to grab a condom, and be right back, okay?”

“Don’t.” You croak, your throat becoming dry as you keep talking and start blushing akin to a lobster. “I’m on birth control.”

“Chérie,” Charles starts, “Y/N, we can’t–”

“Please, I just wanna feel you.” The softness of your voice tugs at his heartstrings as you add, “Only if you want to.”

“Of course, I want to, you silly girl.” Charles assures you quickly and gets out of his trousers and boxers, and positions himself between your legs with the head of his cock pressed to your opening. He moves his eyes from you pussy to your face, locking his gaze with yours as he speaks again, “I’m going to go slow, okay?” He waits for your reaction before starting to move his hips, his cock moving inside you in a slow pace. As he continues the movement of his hips your lips part and a moan resembling his name come out. He stops at a certain point and gives you a moment to adjust, then moves his hips backwards enough that he gets out of you, but he is quick to slip back in and continue his movements up to the point he let you get adjusted to.

You let out a whine, which prompts him to raise his eyebrows in question, which you reply with a nod of your own. You wrap your legs around his hips, the skin-to-skin contact feeling nice, and push him deeper inside you which results in you actually screaming his name. If you thought feeling him before that moment was pleasurable, felling all of him inside you all at once feels as if you’ve achieved some sort of nirvana. “Deeper, please, plus profonde.”

“I’ve got you, darling.” He manages to get out, moving his hips faster and deeper at the same time and hitting the spot which causes your eyes to roll back to your head every time. “You have no idea how beautiful you look like this, right now. Mon chef-d'œuvre, tout à moi.” My masterpiece, all mine.

With your entire body shaking with the movement of Charles’ hips, you still manage to nod your head. “All yours, Charles.” Your hands squeezing his biceps for support, “I love you, je t'aime tellement.” I love you so much.

“God, I love you so much.” He lets out a groan, and drops his head to your neck to press kisses and suck your skin between his lips in an urgent need to leave his mark on your body. “Je promets que je t'aimerai pour toujours.” I promise I'll love you forever.

Your hands move to weave through his messy hair, pulling him closer in an attempt to keep him closer to your body – which proves a challenge because the two of you are already wrapped around each other. “I’m close, mon coeur.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He breathes on your neck, his warm breath making you shiver under the weight of his body. He puts his weight on one of his arms and moves the other one towards your body, this fingers quick to find your clit as he begins to circle it. “Come for me so I can fill you up, hm? You want that, don’t you?”

You nod your head and let him take you there for the last time that night, your orgasm coming in stronger than the previous ones due to the overstimulation Charles thankfully provided. “I do, I do, I really, really do.” Your legs tighten around his hips and your hands slip down his back as you claw at the skin there while your hips lift off the bed, causing you to arch your body to mold his.

He only lets himself come when he’s guided you through yours, his fingers slowing down without stopping when he’s emptying himself into you. The moan he gets out, muffled because his head is still buried in your neck, quickly becomes one of your favourite sounds in the world. He holds you close as he slips out of you, the small wince on your face not going unnoticed by him, and he pulls you towards him when he drops next to you on the bed. Charles listens to your breathing for a while, only to find you looking at him with sleep evident in your eyes and a pleased smile on your lips. “Comme c'est joli.” How pretty. He says, “And all mine.”

“All yours,” you sigh, but your voice coming off sleepy. “I’ve always been all yours.”

His fingers draw random shapes on the bare skin on your back as he raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Hm, tu sais que c'est vrai.” You know it’s true. You mumble, snuggling closer to the driver wrapped around you. “I love you, mon amour.”

“I love you too, chérie.” He kisses the side of your head. “The next time we do this, I’m making you edible pizza, though.”

“I don’t need pizza.” You laugh softly, “only you.”

“Still,” Charles shrugs, “now go to sleep so I can take you out to breakfast tomorrow.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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fruitmins · 1 year

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Purple Car | jungkook

➭ summary: in which jungkook is a successful solo idol and your his long time girlfriend that he hasn’t seen in almost two months. again. it’s starting to feel like your more like distant friends more than lovers so when you unexpectedly disappear, jungkook goes the distance to try to find you.

➭genre: solo idol jk x reader, drabble

➭warnings: none really. a little angsty and depressing. there’s a couple bad words

➭note: first post🥳 | heard a snippet of the acoustic version of ‘car outside’ and this was the outcome sooo feedback would be appreciated.

Jungkook’s eyes begin to strain as he stared at the blue screen with wide and glossy eyes. He didn’t care how badly he was damaging his eyes. It didn’t even cross his mind for a second. He could barely process the information that was on the screen. But still, he stared at it in disbelief. How could he care about himself when the most important person he cared about was missing?

‘nearest train station’

‘train tickets to Daegu’

According to your laptop that was the last thing you had googled. The last time you had used it being almost an hour ago.

His heavy heart sank. Would the train be gone by now?

No. He didn’t want to think of the possibility that you actually left him. You two had always talked about going to Daegu together. Going out to hotels and spending the days happily touring together.

Jungkook’s throat ran dry as he thought about the word touring. When was the last time he actually spent quality time with you? He had just came back from a month tour, promoting his new solo album. He had spent weeks prior getting ready for it and his schedule became full in an instant.

He felt bad and had always planned on making up for lost time as soon as he was done. He knew that after his company would leave him alone for once and he was set on making you his top priority after.

He always made sure to call you at least once a day when on tour, or send little gifts and things to the house in an attempt to cheer you up.

Jungkook glanced around the room, some of his latest gifts not even out of the box. At first, he was constant with the calls and gifts. They would be sweet and meaningful. But as the tour continued the more tired he got. His calls were short and late at night and his gifts became small and less frequent.

His stomach swelled with guilt at the thought. How could he do this to you? Abandon you, make promises, and give you false hope. He remembered the words he said to you to cheer you up.

‘It’ll be over soon before you know it.’

‘When I get back we’ll have the best nights of our lives.’

‘I promise to call you more babe.’

‘I promise I’m fine babe, everything will go back to normal when I’m done.’

‘Stop fucking freaking out so much.’

Most of the time, his mind was clouded by exhaustion and pressure he forgot about the things he said. It felt like all the nights before he slept was like a drunken blur. All he could remember was being on stage and wanting to do good for his fans.

Well now he remembered. All the dry talks between you two. All of the half hearted things he said while slurring, barely awake. Sometimes almost yelling at you whenever you spoke to loud or to much. It was clear as time went he became more moody and distant.

He felt sick.

On the king sized bed, next to the earlier gifts laid your phone. No wonder you hadn’t been answering your phone. Did you really go the extra mile to leave everything at home?

No, he thought again. This must mean your in the house. Maybe the shower, or you went for a walk. Why would you leave your phone?

He tapped on the screen as it lit up. His handful of text showed on the screen. Your phone was almost dead and seemed completely untouched.

12:02AM

Even though he knew you never took showers this late, he went to the master bathroom to take a peek. Nothing. There was limited places you could be hiding, and he had already checked the place once he realized you weren’t home when he first arrived. You weren’t ANYWHERE. Not even in the guest bedroom.

Now he was really starting to panic as realization set in. He had screwed up. He had played with your emotions. He had left you one to many times. Now you were leaving him.

Now he was feeling everything that you had been for the past month and a half, and every other time a big event happened. He felt abandoned, sad, ditched and empty. How the fuck did he not realize what he was doing? How did he not realize how you were feeling? Why didn’t you talk to him? Did you? Not like he could really remember if you had.

‘nearest train station’

He clicked on your past search to see the exact responds. Shit. It wasn’t that far from the house. Only fifteen minutes to be exact. And you had been ghosting him for an hour.

He sprung into action at the realization. He would just had to hope that the train didn’t leave yet. To just hope that you went to early or that you had changed your mind.

He jumps into his car. Not caring that he wasn’t even supposed to be out this late, especially not in his recognizable purple car. Something even his fans knew was his prized possession since he and your favorite color was purple. In his purple car he felt like any other normal person. Especially when you were in the car with him. Now if just felt empty.

He practically sped to the train station (he actually did go over the speed limit a little), immediately parking his car in a random lot before booking it inside the large building.

Inside, he is immediately hit by a sense of bustling activity and the sound of people rushing to catch their trains as his eyes try to scan to look for you. Even though it’s early in the morning, there’s still a bunch of people.

Even when it’s a little dark inside the station since the sun isn’t up yet, he can spot a variety of posters and signs, displaying information about train schedules, destinations, and services available at the station.

He runs to the board, looking for the word Daegu and the color from his face drains when he finds it. The last train to Daegu had left at 11pm. Almost an hour ago. And what’s even worse is that he couldn’t even get a ticket till six.

He almost growled at the board out of anger. What he wasn’t going to do was sit around for five hours while you would be at a foreign place with no phone and nothing to defend yourself with. Especially since you were arriving at such a late time. He was not going to sit around when he had a perfectly good private jet.

Jungkook didn’t care who he woke up. He was the most successful man under his company and getting even more popular around the world. If he wanted a private jet ready at twelve o clock, he was going to get it.

Jungkook would be arriving to Daegu a big whopping thirty minutes before you, and it would take him a decent amount of time to get to the train station you would be arriving it. In short, Jungkook was seriously cutting it short.

If he was even a second to late, you’d disappear into the sea of people and his chances of finding you would decrease drastically by the minute.

Despite being exhausted and sleep deprived, Jungkook couldn’t sleep on the jet. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. All he could do is refrain himself from tearing out his own hair by repeating calling your number, listening to your voice mail for comfort since he knew you wouldn’t answer.

Once his phone had died, all he had was his thoughts. The depressing feeling of sorrow and loss took over him as he cried his eyes out. He missed you and he hated that he drew you away. He hate that he hurt you. He couldn’t imagine a life without you. He wanted to marry you for God’s sake. He felt like his chest was crashing the more he was away from you.

Finally, after he arrived he had a car waiting for him to take him to the train station. He had requested the same purple car he had left back at home, it didn’t feel right picking you up in an all black shaded windowed limo. Whenever you both went somewhere you took that car. You two had spent camping trips and dinner dates in that car. Sure it was newer and wasn’t his car but it was close enough.

He drove himself to the train station and ran inside the building as fast as he could. His face was hidden with a hat and mask as he tried his best to blend in with the people while still desperately trying to reach the platforms.

When he did, he saw one train already letting off a load of people. Jungkook immediately grew terrified. Did you already get off? Did he already lose you? A million thoughts ran through his head as his eyes started to water again.

He didn’t stop walking till he was at the front of the platform, watching as the people who got off with smiles reunited with family members or friends.

Jungkook watched the train empty, looking through the windows in hopes of getting a glimpse of you still inside. But it was mostly empty. You must of been one of the first people to get off. You must of been in a rush to get away from him. To start over. To leave him like he had done you.

Jungkook’s heavy head dropped, looking straight at the ground with closed eyes as tears started to fall. Grieving over the loss of his soulmate. And he could only blame himself.

He wished he could turn back time and do things differently, but he knew that was impossible. All he could do now was try to pick up the pieces of his shattered life and move forward, even though he had no idea how to do that without his wife by his side. But he would always missing you piece of his life..

“Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s body immediately froze at his name. The voice was behind him and spoke with a shaky voice but he was positive it sounded just like you. Was his mind fucking with him? Did he actually hear your voice? For the first time in a month? Were you still here? Did he still have a chance?

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he turned around, a little cautious. His breathing stopped when he met your red eyes. It was you. Only a couple steps away from him. You looked different. More skinny, you had on older clothes. Not the ones he bought you. And he could tell by your tear stained cheek and puffy eyes that you had been crying for a while. But you still looked beautiful. He missed your eyes, your touch, your smell..

Without giving it a second thought, he jumped towards you. His arms immediately wrapped around you as he gave you a tight hug and held you. His tears were spilling more violently as he sobbed into you. Relief rushed through him as he held you. You didn’t push him away, but you didn’t exactly hug him either. But he didn’t care. As long as he got to hug you. He was scared of letting you go. He didn’t want you to leave, and he didn’t want to leave either.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He managed to choke out and soon enough you began to cry with him, becoming emotional in his arms. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He repeated, the first genuine words he said to you in a while. Your familiar soothing smell with the warmth of your small figure stopped him from having a full out panic attack.

“Jungkook I—“ you started to speak but he quickly shook his head, pulling away to analyze your face. He looked into your eyes with such relief and care but sadness still filled his expression. He was still scared you wouldn’t forgive him. That he had still lost you.

“I’m terrible Y/N. I didn’t realize just how much I let my job take over my life. Our life. I missed you Y/N I really did. I love you. I love you more than myself. I don’t wanna leave you anymore.” He said quickly pulling you back into a tight embrace, and this time he almost melted when your arms wrapped around him. He wanted to say so much more but he couldn’t form the words. It was paining him just seeing you cry.

“Please, give me a second chance to fix things. I’m not going anywhere without you Y/N.” He said, his desperate words spoken in a firm voice. He wanted to let you know just how serious he was about his words.

“Don’t promise anything..” you mumbled. The first proper-ish sentence you’ve said the whole time. He missed your voice, it wasn’t the same over the phone but your words stung. Did you not trust him? Did you think he would abandon you? Cause if so he’d get on his knees and propose to you right there.

“I just don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to leave you.” He sobbed into your shoulder honestly. Jungkook had always been a little shy with crying, even in front of you. But he was willing to expose himself to you. To let you know how he really felt.

“I-I won’t. Leave..” You choked out in a low voice and Jungkook was immediately over the moon. All his worries and fears washed away at your words. “I love you.” You spoke, this time in a stronger but gentle voice as his grip loosened a little around you.

He responded by pulling down his mask and kissing you with starving lips. His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled your body against his. You kissed him back, melting in his touch as the world around you disappeared. You both had missed each others touch and you practically cried of happiness at the familiar warmth of his lips on yours.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, Jungkook leaned his forehead so it was touching yours. He closed his eyes and took everything in as he continued to hold your waist. Never would he be leaving you again. Never.

— A YEAR LATER —

“You ready for the tour baby?” Jungkook asked you in a gentle and soothing voice when he slithered behind you, wrapping his arms around you and putting his head on your shoulder. He gave you a kiss on your neck as he watched you pack your large suitcase.

“Absolutely. I can’t wait to visit all the different places.” You said with a wide smile as you leaned into his touch. When Jungkook cleared his voice you giggled. “And watch you preform of course.” A satisfied smirk showed on his lips at your response.

“Well I’m glad your happy.” He replied with a warm smile, his voice filled with joy and happiness.

Because what you didn’t know was that on the last day of the tour in Daegu, Jungkook was going to propose to you after singing Still With You.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts x female reader #jungkok #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #bts x army #bts idol au #bts ot7 #bts reactions

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littlexscarletxwitch · 7 months

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── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): smut with plot but not really, a bit of angst but then again not really, nsfw, wlw sex

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, oral sex, kinda toxic relationship, mentions of drinking alcohol, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3k

note: I'M SO SORRY GUYS IT SOOOO LOOOONG. College had been kicking my ass. Agh! I need a break from that shit. Anyways... I was actually going to make the smut part longer but I kinda didn't want to ruin it, so this is what you get lol. Also I literally googled the russian pet names, so please correct me if they are wrong. I hope you all like it! Lots of love, M <3

note 2: I got so many requests and I'm so glad you guys asked me to write your ideas, I really appreciate that. It's going to take me so time but I WILL WRITE THEM and I'm so excited about them. Love the way you guys think lol <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

⇨ Detka: baby - Moya lyubov: my love - Malishka: little girl - Krasotka: gorgeous

You knew this whole thing was wrong, it was a toxic never ending cycle, but still you could never help yourself when it came to her.

You and Yelena were together for three years, three years filled with love and lust and happiness; but then your relationship became hateful, bitter and full of anger, still the lust between the two of you remained the same.

Allegedly, the two of you had broken up 5 months ago. Allegedly, you resented her for the shit she put you through. Allegedly, you didn’t even want to see her face.

Nevertheless, she always found her way back to you, —back to your bed—. The moment her lips made contact with yours, you knew you had lost all sense of reason. How could you restrain yourself when her hips grazed against yours in a slowly almost painful yet divine pace that had you arching your back and curling your toes?

“Fuck,” you breathed out, as her hands thighten the frim grip on your waist.

You always promised yourself it would be the last time, that it was just your body reacting to hers, that you would be strong the next time and would turn her down. It took you a couple more slips to finally understand that you and Yelena were done, that the two of you were through. But you finally came to your senses.

“You do know this is the last time, right?” you said breathless, feeling your quick heartbeat in your eardrums.

You sword to yourself that would be the last time you let yourself give in to her. Just one more night of pleasure, just one more night of kisses and whimperings and moans, and the next day it would be over.

“Yeah, I know,” though her voice was muffled by your cunt you could still make out the sarcastic tone in her voice.

“I mean it, Yel,” you tried to sound serious, and apparently you did because she lifted up her head for her eyes to find yours.

“I know you do,” and she did know. She knew that you meant it, at that specific moment.

But she also knew your statement wouldn’t last long, that you would soon change your mind and her lips would find their way back to your neck, hips, thighs and cunt.

So she allowed you to think it was over, but it will be over once she decided so.

[...]

It’d been a year since you had last seen her, you thought that was it, that the two of you had moved on at last. But maybe you got it all wrong, maybe all the things she made you feel enhanced by being away from her, maybe you forced yourself to forget about her. But there was no point in trying it, for she had made a mark on your heart. Like a tattoo, always under skin even when it gets removed.

But tonight was supposed to be different, you were supposed to have fun, drink and dance with your girl friends. But for some odd reason you couldn't stop thinking about the blonde. You would mess around with some people, but you found yourself thinking that it wasn’t her hands roaming around your body, or her lips leaving kisses and bites all over your neck, it wasn't her scent and it most certainly wasn’t her hoarse voice reaching your ears.

As you and your friends made your way to the bar, you heard your phone ringing. Even before you took a look at the screen you were 100% sure that it was her calling you, who else could it be then?

Your heart picked up its pace as you looked at the ID caller and your suspicions were confirmed. It was at that moment that you realised that you had never blocked or deleted her contact number.

Before you could answer or decline the call, it stopped. You swallowed down the lump that hard formed on your throat, unsure of what would be next. And soon after it stopped you got a text from her, you were about to read it when you noticed that someone was calling out for you.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you said, quickly putting away your phone, trying to focus on your friend’s words over the loud music.

“We have to use the restroom. Let’s go,” she said, reaching out for your hand, motioning for you to tag along.

“No,” you step back, away from her reach. “I, um,” you felt your phone burning your hand. “I’m going to get some air, okay?” you noticed she wanted to say something against it, so you quickly added: “I’ll be right back, I promise,” you smiled at them, before making your way out of the club before they would follow after you.

Once the cold air of the night filled your lungs you felt like you could finally breathe properly. You looked at her missed call and her text message on your phone screen, it was simple: an address. You knew what that meant, but you weren’t sure of what you should do. As if sensing your doubt, she called you again. The phone kept on ringing in your hand, as you made up your mind.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? Yes, you might not be really drunk but the alcohol was messing with your brain and you were not thinking straight. Plus, your friends were going to kill you for meeting her.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? You weren’t just going to throw away the last year and pretend like nothing had happened.

Seeing her would be a bad idea, right? But your mind had other plans as the memories of her soft lips and her rough hands and her raspy voice all came rushing to your brain, and suddenly it was all you could think of.

Seeing her tonight…? Fuck it, it’s fine, was your only thought as you picked up the call.

“Hello, detka.”

The old pet name sent a silver up your spine, still you were yet to form a coherent thought.

“I missed you,” she paused, waiting for you to say something. “Did you miss me?” she tried again. Still, you weren’t answering her, but she knew you were listening carefully to every word. “You know? I’m all alone right now. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

You could sense the undertone she was using, you were no fool to her tactics, even though you would always fall for them. That was the kind of power Yelena had over you, everytime you would do so much as think about her your brain would just shut down and you wouldn’t be able to hear your own thoughts.

“No,” you stated firmly. Shaking your head even though she could not see you.

“Oh, baby. What’s the matter? You want me to pick you up?” you could hear the jiggling of some set of keys. Your heart stopped for a second, was she really that desperate to come and pick you up? You felt your stomach burning.

“This is… This is not right, Yelena. I shouldn't have picked up the call. I should probably not—.”

“Oh, come on, moya lyubov,” again with the russian nickname that would make your knees weak. “How about this, I pick you up, we get some coffee and we just have a quick chitchat?”

You knew that it never was so simple with Yelena, but you felt your walls crashing down.

“I’m not sure, Yel…” it felt weird to pronounce that nickname after so long.

“Look up, pretty girl.”

You felt your stomach sink as you did as you were told. And there she was, in all her glory. You didn’t even question how she knew exactly where you were, Yelena just knew stuff. You knew she was your ex, but she said it was just a quick chat, can’t two people reconnect? You knew you were stronger now to her advances, you were pretty sure you only saw her as a friend. But, in all honesty, you knew you were full of shit.

Without a word, you sent a text to your friends, put your phone in your purse and got into the car, wrecking all your plans. You knew you should just stop, but you couldn't. You cursed yourself for that, she knew you too well and you hated both yourself and Yelena for that.

As soon as you took the passengers sit, Yelena sped up the car and the two of you left the building and your friends behind.

“I did miss you, Y/n,” was the first thing she said as she rested her hand on your thigh.

She knew how much you loved it when she did that.

“Mmm,” you muttered, unsure of what your answer should be.

“Didn’t you miss me?” she jokingly asked as she gently squeezed your skin.

“What do you want, Yel?”

“I thought I told you,” she quickly took a look at you before looking back at the road. “I just want to chat, that’s all.”

“It’s never that simple with you.”

“Well, maybe this time it is. Maybe this time I want things to be different,” she smiled at you, making your heart skip a beat. She still had that kind of power over you and you hated her even more for that. But not really.

You gently shook your head. It was bad, you shouldn’t have picked up the call, you shouldn't have gotten into the car. You should have thought things more clearly before letting her into your life again.

As you were mentally cursing yourself you didn’t realise that the two of you had already made it to whatever place she had driven the two of you. Realisation hit you as you now had now idea where the fuck you were, you had no other choice but to follow her. Or so you told yourself.

Yelena opened the car door for you and stretched her hand out for you to take. Which you did, you didn’t even fight it, you longed for the contact of her skin against yours. And maybe, just maybe, you thought it would be enough, just by intertwining your fingers in between hers. But, god, you were wrong.

You knew the moment you would step through her front door all sense of reason would leave your mind, and it would only remain the lust and feel of belonging you always felt around her. And you were right, the soon you stepped in, it was like you were that same person a year ago and you had no intention in fighting your feelings, not anymore. You thought maybe you deserve it, as a reward for being all this time apart from each other.

As soon as you entered it was as if you could feel Yelena everywhere. It wasn’t just the fact that she was there next to you with her hand in between yours, but you could all also smell her scent all over her place, you could see her in the furniture she had chosen, hear her in the music that was playing, and even though you had yet to taste her lips you were so overwhelmed by her entire being that it felt as if you already had.

“So, um,” she cleared her throat as she closed the door behind the two of you, getting your attention. “Would you like some coffee…?”

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you mumbled to yourself once more before dropping your purse and shortening the distance and crashing your lips against hers.

Yelena’s hand quickly found their way to your hips, gently squeezing your flesh earning a low groan out of you. She pulled away gasping for air but the next second her lips were back on yours. You moaned into her lips as her tongue easily slipped into your mouth and found yours to mess around with.

You felt a warm feeling in your stomach as her hands roamed all over your body leaving goosebumps on their way. Then they rested on your ass, grabbing the muscle motioning for you to jump on top of her, which you did without a second thought. The feeling became a small fire in your stomach the moment your chest was pressed against hers.

“I knew you would come back,” she mumbled in between your lips, feeling her grin into the kiss.

As a response you bit her bottom lip, not really sure what you meant by that but it felt good when you heard a low moan escape from her lips.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said once you let go of it, earning a small chuckle from her.

“Yeah, you’re right, krasotka,” her thick russian was only fuel to the growing fire in your stomach.

Her lips found the crook of your neck and she left as many bites and kisses as she pleased, leading the two of you to her bedroom. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your fingers found their way in between her hair.

Once in her bedroom, Yelena gently laid you on her bed. As her lips made their way down to your collarbone, her hand tugged at the hem of your dress slowly and painfully bringing it up to your waist.

On command, you spread your leg open letting Yelena’s head take the place in between your thighs. She kissed and bit them, her lips ghosted over the area where you needed her the most, but all you got was her hot breath which sent a shiver up your spine and made you groan out her name.

“Stop with the teasing,” you begged her, as your legs rested on her shoulders.

“Tell me what you need,” she breathed out.

“I need you… I need your lips on me,” it almost came out as a moan.

And she did as she was told, but it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Her lips kissed and licked your core, but it wasn’t enough since the area was still being covered by your panties. You wanted more, needed more.

“Yelena, please…” you begged her once again.

“Shh…” she cooed as her fingers tugged at the hem of your underwear and slowly pushed it out of the way. “Is this where you need my lips, malishka,” her hot breath over your now uncovered cunt ripped a moan out of your mouth.

“Yes, yes, just please do something. Please, Yel, I—,” a whimper cut you off as you felt her tongue licked up your slit. “Fuck,” you could feel your heartbeat going a mile per hour.

Her tongue went up and down a few times, tasting your juices, loving who wet you were for her. She then made sure to give your clit as much attention, so she wrapped her lips around it and sucked hard. You felt your leg trembling on her shoulders as she worked her magic on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were a moaning mess, the fire in your stomach felt like it was taking over your entire body and you only wanted to give in, to let it consume you whole —to let Yelena consume you whole—.

You wrapped your legs around her head, bringing her even closer to you. The thought of her suffocating on your count scared you for half a second, but then as she ate you like a starving woman, the thought only added more to your arousal.

Yelena took a quick look at you: eyes closed, lips slightly trembling and parted, brows furrowed, your leg around her head, your hand flying to meet her hair. She wanted that moment to last forever, she wanted to be forever buried in between your legs if it only meant she could see you like this. But she could not stop time and live forever in that moment, so she could only moan at your sight. And that was what it took for you to finally come undone in her lips.

You cried out her name as your leg almost squeezed her head too harshly, but she could take it. A few curses followed her name as her tongue and lips helped you right out your high.

“I missed this, malishka,” she said breathlessly as you unwrapped your legs around her.

Her nose, lips and chin were glistening from your release, you felt something like a match lighting up inside you once again. Much to your dismay she used the back of her hand to clean some of it, which she noticed that it had bothered you since you slightly frown. She chuckled at just how cute and precious you were.

She crawled on top of you, placing her knee in between your legs and her lips found yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her lips and tongue, feeling the fire coming back to life.

“I missed you… so much,” she said in between kisses. “Tell me… you missed me too…”

Drunk on her scent, lips and words you couldn’t think properly. But still the words you blurted out were the truth: “I did… I missed you too…”

“Then we should… make up for… the time we lost…'' she said as her hand expertly tugged down the cleavage of your dress, she smiled to herself as she realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

She trailed a path of kiss from your neck, down to your collarbone to finally end with her lips sucking your right nipple.

“Yeah, we should…” you breathed out.

“Then, we are going to be here for a while,” she said, her words were muffled by your tit inside her mouth.

You giggled at her words but then it turned into a moan as she went on sucking.

You knew the whole thing would fire back eventually, but your head was empty, blank, no reasonable thoughts. Just one that it keep you going and that was the only thought you were willing to listen to: ‘Fuck it, it’s fine.’

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#yelena belova #yelena belova x fem reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x y/n #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova smut #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love #Spotify

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cloned-eyes · 1 year

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Stormy seas | Part I

Merman!Wrecker x GN!Reader

Part II

Living your whole life on the small paradise that Pabu is you find yourself discovering something truly impossible after a storm had raged over Island. And soon you discover secerts whom had waited for years to be discoverd

WARNINGS: mentions of destructions and death and dead bodies, alot of time spend on the ocean, no use of Y/N, no describtion of outer appearance in any way, there will be darker elements as the story progresses, just mentioning it here already. I also have no idea about sailing and ships in gerneral so bare with me - sorry to anyone who actually knows how to operate a boat and doesn't need google to sort things out

No beta read/ Did my best to spell and grammar check but english isn't my first language so bare with me. Hope it's somewhat readable.

It was getting late and you had to head to the shore more sooner than later at this point, but you didn't feel like leaving just yet. The ocean had been raging up until two days ago. Waves, bigger than you had ever seen them before in your life crashing against the isle without mercy. Greedily swallowing the lower levels of Pabu for days and only spitting out ruins of what had been homes – entire lives- just mere days before. It was a tragedy really. It hadn't been the first storm they had encounter but the force with which it had hit the island was beyond what they had anticipated. Shep blamed himself quite a lot for what had happened, even though nothing had been in his control at any point. No body could have foreseen the catastrophe that was about to unfold itself over Pabu and once it did there was little one could've done against it any ways.

You tried your best to comfort him. The destruction was greatly yes and it would take quite a lot of time to rebuild everything, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. The more servere part however where the individuals who had fallen victim to the flood. Up until now there had been at least five people fallen victim to the devilish waves, over another ten still missing. It wasn't his fault and while slim there was still hope to find those who were lost alive. You told him that. Told him that he had done his best and that he succeeded in keeping his people save, many saved due to his quick thinking and immediate evacuating as soon as he realized this wasn't just a usual storm to encounter. Though he might not fully believed your words, being extremely hard on himself, you still believed it at least reassured him a bit.

The first day after the storm was the worse. Seeing the whole scale of destruction. A lot of places in lower Pabu were covered in water still, the tide only slowly flowing back.

Saving anything was tricky, especially since the storm had raged for a few days and had not only devoured the homes of so many citizens of the Isle but also their ships. You were one of the few lucky enough to rediscover yours intact. Sure, it was a bit flooded and roughed up but nothing you couldn't fix quickly.

And due to that you were chosen to search the coastline for anything but more importantly anyone. Other ships, belongings that would have survive the storm by miracle, possible still alive animals floating around on wreckage and of course those people who were still missing. You prayed to whatever entity was listening that you would be spared of coming into contact with dead floating bodies and instead found them alive.

And while sailing the coast line up and down, keeping your eyes open you also occupied yourself with picking up said wreckage and anything that didn't belong in the ocean while also watching out for stray nets. You assumed that the storm had caused quite the damage, tearing away the nets of of local fisherman and making them an extreme hazard for marine life.

There was so much junk floating in the water and it took very little time for your small ship to fill up fast.

Leaning down you grabbed a plastic bottle swimming past your boat. Inspecting it you found a small crab caged inside it. Fiddling your pocket knife out of your jackets pockets you swiftly got to work, slicing open the bottle before gently releasing the crab back into the water. Eyes looking after it as it slowly drifted back into the deep.

The water slowly got black, golden streaks dancing on the waves as the sun began to set. Gaze lifting to roam over the water surrounding you you quickly caught the sight of buoy 13. Of course it had to be 13.

A shiver run down your spine as the fine hairs in your neck stood up. The black waters.

Everyone on Pabu tried to avoid these waters. Not only because they were quite far away from the shore but also because a lot of bad things had happened here. No one knew why exactly but the amount of boats who had capsized here was scary. At least ten fisherman had drowned here over the years. But you suspected that there had to been more, since this was only the number of bodies who could be retrieved not taking into account those washed onto the shores and those who were never seen again. Many suspected that due to the many rocks hidden beneath the surface many tricky streams had developed in this area. Strong enough to push unsuspecting boats against the sharp rock, tearing them open in the process and letting them sink quickly. It was the most logical theory however, there also was a second option.

You had grown up with the stories about dangerous, vicious sea creatures roaming this part of the coast. Tearing apart ships, sinking them to feast upon the crew. Devouring those poor souls so swiftly that only their bones reached the bottom of the ocean. You didn't liked those stories and as an adult you doubted their possibility. While many of the bodies that had been found had missing limbs and bite marks it was more logical to assume that those stemmed from sharks and other bigger predatory fish who populated the nearby waters and not some fairytale sea monsters. Still, now that the sun was setting and the wind got colder this dammed buoy radiated an aura of threat, making your stomach drop.

You decided to head back not wanting to accidentality sink yourself after all. Getting ready to turn your ship around and head for the shore you suddenly caught something in the corner of your eye. A splashing noise. Short but loud.

For a moment you thought you had imagined things, believing your mind was playing tricks on you. Another shiver hit you, a voice in the back of your head screaming for you to move your butt and get back on land as fast as you could. However a other part of your mind – and a stronger one at that – told you to stay and to take a look around. Hopeful to find whatever had just flashed by.

It was getting hard to see anything really, since the horizon had nearly swallowed the sun whole by now.

Eyes scanning over the pitch black waves nothing caught your attention. Ready to admit that you paranoia was getting the best of you, you were about to start your ships engine as something big floating in the water caught your attention. There was no way you could make out what exactly it was from where you currently stood but after focusing extremely hard your eyes could make something out that appeared to be a net wrapped around whatever swam there. Concerned that this might could be a marine creature – or a missing person- caught up in a lethal trap you started your engine, cautiously approaching it. Getting nearer to it you could make out something that looked like a fin of sorts. You couldn't really tell since the last ray of light had disappeared by now and your ships headlights only provided enough light ahead to see where you were navigating your ship.

You let out a relieved sigh, at least it wasn't a human body.

Carefully positioning your ship besides whatever floated there you could confirm that what you had spotted was indeed a fin. A big fin. Whatever this creature was, it certainly was massive.

You watched it a moment to see if it still moved, which was hard to tell by the way the waves rocked both your ship and the creature. Careful to not go overboard you reached out to gently grab the fin, softly shaking it to see if you got a response. After a few seconds you felt a weak resistance followed up by a weak attempt to move the fin. The creature was still alive.

Letting out yet another relived huff you tried to figure out the scale of entanglement. The hard plastic fibre wrapped itself around the dark body in a merciless tight manner, following it's shape into the dark waves, disappearing out of sight. This was less then ideal and you hoped that you could fix it from up here, even though you had no idea how bad it was beneath the pitch black surface. Hoping for the best, you really prayed it would be enough for this individual to free itself after you gave it the little support you were currently able to offer. Steadying yourself you reached for the net, trying to get the body closer to your ship so you could better see were to cut the fibre.

You felt the tensing muscles and then movement. It was a soft resistance but even from the rather gentle movement your could tell that whatever this creature was, it was strong. Perfectly able to tear you out of your boat if you weren't careful.

It's fin moved, splashing water which hit your face. You softly shook your head to get the droplets away from your face.

“Easy there”, you murmured softly, “just wanting to help ya.”

Pulling it even closer you waited for a moment to make sure it wouldn't suddenly lash out in an attempt to get away from you. Once you felt secure enough that it would remain calm – even though you could never tell with wild, wounded animals- you began to work equally swiftly and carefully. Skilfully cutting the net open, freeing the skin beneath it little by little.

The more fibre you cut open, the more the tail started to move again. Motion that got more and more powerful with each second passing, testing its nearly found freedom.

Slicing apart a particular big entangled part of netting you felt the rest of the straps swiftly loosening.

A small smile appeared on your lips. You almost had it. Carefully tugging on the strands your freed the creature more and more, encouraging it to move with a gently petting on its tail, softly pushing it. The tail moved, much more confident this time, smoothly wiggling itself out of the remaining net, quickly disappearing into the black depths again.

You were admittedly a bit disappointed that it was so dark and you hadn't been able to see much more than the fin and part of the tail, curios about what kind of creature you just had freed. Taking a few moments to watch look at the now empty waves in hopes that it might came back. Obviously a ridiculous want but hey, one could dream.

Hoisting the remaining net into your boat you eventually set course for Pabu, finally heading back to the bright lit shore.

And while your way back was smooth and undisturbed you couldn't quite shake the feeling of being watched. Head spinning around a few times in hopes to catch anything, shaking your head at the the absurdity of your paranoia.

Tiredness was probably catching up to you and if you were honest you couldn't wait to get some sleep.

Still, the feeling of being followed lasted until you were in direct proximity of the makeshift harbour. The bright lights of the upper city now fully illuminating the pier your head snapped around as you heard soft splashing behind you.

Heart pounding you stared at the line were the lights of the pier and the shadows of the night met in a hard line. You were clearly imagine things, weren't you. Involuntarily the stories of the islands elders were back in the front of your brain.

Dangerous and vicious creature, waiting to sink unsuspecting boats and devouring whoever was on it.

You really tried to be rational but you somehow couldn't shake those absurd thoughts off your shoulders.

If it hadn't been for Shep, who had called out for you while already waiting on the edge of the dock, you would probably stayed there all night, staring wholes into the pitch black waves. Tearing your eyes away after once last sharp glance you finally called it a day. Being greeted and helped out your boat by Shep the man instantly briefed you in on what had happened in the city so far, distracting you from your suspicious feelings, at least for now.

Had had weird dreams that night. Your brain clearly having trouble processing things. Swimming in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by black waves a black fin circled you. Sometimes it came closer sometimes it strayed away further but it always remained somewhat close. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't swim away, being stuck watching this fin circling you. An unsettling feeling rattled your bones. Even once you woke up it wouldn't leave you and for the first time in a long time - if not ever – you felt uneasy about getting back out onto the open ocean.

The feeling passed eventually. Well not exactly passed but rather ousted by the grim discovery found on the beach the next day. One of the missing individuals had been found. Dead.

Washed to the docks between other wreckage. It was a daunting tragedy for everyone who lived on the island. You had been at Sheps side that morning. Laying a hand on his shoulder to offer him comfort. It wasn't much but you felt there were no words who could aid in this situation either. A harsh setback that caused a lot of doubt,dwindling the hopes of finding the other missing persons alive. A chance that realistically got slimmer with each hour passing.

After they salvage the poor soul out of the water you were back on your boat, scouring the waters surrounding the island as the days before.

Sure, you still felt like being watched sometimes. Sailing out on the open ocean could be equally beautiful as scary. Especially so when you had to keep your eyes open for missing people, possibly encountering their dead bodies. But after your third encounter with angered seabirds you figured that those winged devils were stalking you in chances of getting their hands – wings...beaks? - whatever, on something tasty, even if it was only your lunch.

The ocean was calm and a warm breeze washed over your boat. Waves softly rocking it. It was still early in the morning. The sun had yet to rise but her rays were already dying the night sky in warm pastel colours of orange and purple. It had been three days since you the dead body had been fished out from beneath the dock. Fortunately five of the other people missing were found still alive and in somewhat good condition. Dehydrated as hell but alive. A good omen.

Enjoining the exquisiteness of a quiet morning you sipped on your steaming hot caf and snacked a few treats that served as a breakfast for you. Than you heard it, a soft clank to your right. Head snapping so fast it nearly dislocated your neck your eyes fell on the back of your ship. Eyes wide you starred at the small shell now lying on the upper edge of your boats side. That definitely hadn't been there before. And while the inside of your head screamed 'NONONONO.NOPE.NOPEDY-NOPE.ABSOLUTLY NOT' you still got up after what felt like five minutes of staring at the shell to inspect it closer. Well, not the shell per se, more so in hopes to figure out where it had come from all of the sudden.

Picking it up you turned it around a few times, sharply inspecting it as of to find an engraving which had an explanation to all of it. It was quite pretty you had to admit. A fine piece to add to your collection if you had found it yourself but at the moment it only triggered feelings of fight or flight rather than awe.

Suddenly another clank and a short splash echoing after wards. Swiftly turning around you eyes found another shell. This time on the opposite side of your boat.

This was getting weird. Especially since now you had conformation that something was definitely circling your boat thanks to the splash your ears had picked up. You took a few steps away from the edge of your boat, hesitant to pick up the other shell. Instead you starred at it intensely, closely listening for any other sounds that could help you locate where whatever circled your boat was. Fidgeting with the first shell you currently still held between your fingers your racing mind tried to figure out what to do. At the same time a overpowering wave of curiosity hit you, begging you to risk a look over your boats edge.

Vicious creatures that sink boats...

You shook your head in a desperate attempt to get rid of those words. The last thing you needed right now was to lose your cool to your lively imagination.

Your body froze. Standing there for maker knows how long you waited. Waited for anything to happen. It felt like an eternity. Nothing happened. No further splashing, no further clanks and no further appearing of random shells on your boat.

Unease still pumped through your veins but your limbs began to move again, as you very quietly and cautiously made your way to the ships edge.

Your gaze fell on the shell. An equally beautiful one to the one you already received. Though you didn't picked it up and instead dared to peak over the ships edge, risking a glimpse onto the water.

The sight of nothing greeted you. Well, nothing besides empty waves and you dared to lean over a bit more, taking a closer look at the waters beneath you in hopes to see something – anything- in the depths.

Yet again your eyes picked up nothing.

Questioning yourself if you had lost your mind you placed your hands on the wet edge, scowling deeply. You were going crazy, weren't you? Lost deep in thought you temporarily ignored your

surroundings completely.

Clank.

The sudden sound made you jump. So much so that you found your arms slipping from the boats edge, losing balance and falling face first over the gunwale. Diving into the cold water had you confused and panicked. Body acting on instinct, arms paddling to get your head above water. You clothes greedily drank away the ocean, soaking themselves to the brim in seconds. It was heavy but you managed to get your head above water. Coughing violently you tried to get the water out of your eyes while also staying afloat. Hands grasping for anything to cling onto they eventually found the slick side of your boat. Unable to get a secure grip at first you eventually managed to get a hold of a lower part of the gunwale. Steadying yourself, your were finally able to wipe any remaining water out of your eyes with your other hand. Taking in deep breaths you took an alerted look around you. Your eyes were met with nothing but your body felt that something was there. Not willing to fuck around and find out you tried to make your way to the rear end of your boat as fast as you could. Trying to heave your body up and failing miserably so, you suddenly felt two strong hands gripping onto each side of your body, gently pushing you upwards with ease. While every thought in your mind froze instantly your body was at least still functional, moving on it's own and climbing back onto your boat. Knees falling onto the deck you scattered away from the gunwale in seconds. Heart racing and blood rushing in your ears you gawked at the rear end of the ship. Every muscle tense, lungs shallowly breathing you waited. Mind still trying to process what just had happened.

After another eternity something moved. Flinching you intensely watched as a taloned hand carefully placed a shell on the edge of the rear end. Unable to do anything you just continued to stare.

The hand appeared yet again, placing another shell on the edge.

You gulped, taking in a deep breath. What was going on?

Your body began to move again. Slowly, very slowly and as quiet as you could you moved over to the rear in a ducked position. Cautiously sliding up the ships wall to throw a glimpse over it. Nothing was there but you heard water splashing. So that creature was still there. Your eyes fell on the shells and before you could spare a second thought you finger softly pushed one of them over the edge. The shell fell and you heard a soft “blob” as it fell into the water. Crouching back down your eyes were glued to the edge.

After a minute the hand reappeared, softly putting the shell back. Your eyes grew wider.

And while you still felt freaked out you also started to burn up with curiosity. Maybe it was foolish but you felt like if whatever was keeping you company right know wanted to hurt you, it would have drowned you when it had the chance a few moments ago.

Fuelled by a hot wave of curiosity and boldness your finger slowly pushed the other shell into the water. This time it was retrieved a bit faster. Your the fearful glint in your eyes soon made space for a more awe one as you watched the sharp talons yet again placing the shell back with up most delicacy. The urge to reach out and catch a touch of them suddenly seemed overbearing and for a second you wondered what has gotten into you. You scoped closer to the ships edge, careful to not make any sound. Slowly getting up just enough to look over onto the water you pushed the shells in yet again. Hoping your plan would work, now eager to see whatever was down there.

Your gaze was fixed on the shell. Watching as it slowly sank down, softly glistening in the light until disappearing into the deep blue sea. Disappointment stung softly in your chest as nothing happened. You seemingly weren't as slick as you had thought of yourself to be.

Clank.

Your head flew to the side, spotting the shell.

It was apparent that this thing was smart. Whether or not it was playing games with you or was shy was still to be found out and you were determined to do so. You pushed the other shell at your disposal over board before swiftly making your way over to the other shell, pushing it in as well. You were sure that the creature was aware of your location on the ship, picking up your movements vibrating though the ship and into the water. But you hoped that if you were quick enough you could catch a glimpse or at least gather a bit more trust with your playful behaviour.

Waiting intensely for were the shells would resurface next your eyes constantly scanned over your boat, ears carefully listing for any sounds that could give away the creatures position.

The faintest of splashes echoed behind you. Turning around in slow motion – partly because you didn't want to startle the creature and partly because you didn't wanted to startle yourself either – your eyes fell on a rather human face, or at least parts of it. It took you by genuinely surprise, certainly not expecting anything like what you were currently encountering. The head just stretched out far enough for you to see it, eyes barely looking over the gunwale. Two mismatched eyes examine you, filled to the brim with unfiltered curiosity. Unable to do anything other than to directly stare back your mouth fell slightly agape.

Were you imagining things? Because if not for the eyes you could swear there was a man eyeing you up and down. It...He – you assumed it was a he- was bald. Bronze skin shimmering in the morning sun. His right eye was a pitch black, shiny orb. Eyes like a shark. Meanwhile the other one was coloured in a milky white, pupil tinted in a ghostly dull grey. You assumed he had lost his sight on the left side of his face. Backing up your theory by the plentiful amount of thick angry scar tissue surrounding said eye, spreading over his skull like a spiders web.

You couldn't bring yourself to tear your eyes away from his scars. In any other circumstance you would have felt awful for blatantly staring like this but right know your brain had stopped functioning properly.

Shivers ran down your spine and you weren't sure whether you should pity him or be afraid because of those marks life had left on him.

“What are you?”

The words fell out of your mouth without second thought. Your brain hadn't even registered that you had said them out loud at first. Not to mention that your voice was merely a weak whisper. But to your surprise you caught how the eyes of the creature ….man -whatever softly wrinkled. A clear sign of him smiling? Surely your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Wrecker”

You flinched, caught completely off guard by the strange sound of a raspy, deep voice. Nearly sounding human, but not quite enough for you to fully believe it. Fine hairs in your neck standing up. Goose pumps exploding across your skin. You couldn't believe your ears. Did it- he just speak? To you? Answering your question – understanding you?

“I'm Wrecker”, he clarified. Head swiftly disappearing behind the gunwale. Something snapped and you immediately rushed to lean over the ships edge, nearly falling of it again, in an attempt to get a closer look on him. Not willing to lose him out of your sight yet again.

“Wait!”

It was a sharp yell. A desperate attempt to buy you time. Staring onto the water you saw nothing but the deep blue. Cursing under your breath you mind raced.

“Wrecker, yes? Is that your name? Please come back”, you pleaded while restlessly searching through the wave. A carpet of bubbles appeared from under the ship, bursting open as soon as they broke through the waters surface. They were followed by a figure. The way the waves were rocking against your boat slightly distorted his facial features as he stared up at you just barley beneath the water line. Your wide eyes stared at him in awe, fascinated as you caught a glimpse of the rest of his body, or at least what you could make out from up here. Two wide flippers kept his body perfectly still, steadily floating. Only the upper part of him seemed to be human, the lower part had very strong similarities to a whale shark, at least colour wise.

He was absolutely massive. Even from what little you could see from your current position you were certain that he was huge. Three and a half meters, minimum.

It was clear as day that you were imitated by his size, by him. Period.

Your eyes as big as oranges and probably quite the ridiculous view from down there. He pulled his lips back, razor sharp teeth flashing underneath the waves and it took a moment to realize that he was grinning up to you- at you. Amused by you.

A short offended scream echoed through the back of your head. Was he making fun of you? A ridiculous thought but judging by the distorted sight under you a quite possibly true one.

Involuntarily puffing your cheeks your eyebrows knitted together. His grin spread wider even more.

Definitely amused by you.

You leaned down a bit further, hands securely gripping onto the ships edge. If you fell over again so be it. You were soaked to the bones anyway and maybe it would grant you a closer look at him anyway. He let himself sink a bit. Clearly toying with your attempts to get a better look at him. You huffed, scowling after him.

“A jokester, that's what you are”, you spoke into the waves, doubting that he could understand your murmuring underneath surrounded by water. However, his head tilt was a clear sign against your assumptions. His grin faltered ever yo slightly, shrinking into a smile, teeth no longer flared. His intense gaze broke free from yours. Looking somewhere into the wide open sea as of something else was catching his attention. Offering you one last glance he let himself sink further into the depths, massive body gracefully twisting with ease, diving into the endless blue beneath you.

Eyes catching the shimmers of light flashing over his dark tail you caught a quick glimpse of his strange looking dorsal fin. He was far to deep down by now to make out any more defined details which kept you yet again pondering about so many things.

But even from the short amount of what you had seen you couldn't help yourself to be amazed.

He was beautiful.

Tags (I hope that's okay since you guys mentioned you wanted a tag)

@moss-tombstone @marierg

#the bad batch #tbb wrecker #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #gn reader #mermaid au #eyes writes #i'm so nervous about this #i hope it makes sense

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chained-to-the-mirror · 1 year

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I looked through my notes and apparently last time I sat down to write my thoughts was in February. I had been struggling with my body image and had a nasty nightmare. I’ve not had very nasty nightmares now, but the body image thing is ever present.

I recently bought swimwear for the first time since my early teens. (Let it be noted that I’ll be 43 in a month.) It was inspired by a friend who is coming to visit and wants to go swimming. I was so nervous to even try on a swimsuit… but I did it. I now have two swimsuits/swimwear. I wonder how it will be to actually go out in public wearing them - not easy, probably, but hopefully it will be at least somewhat enjoyable in the end.

Also a new thing is that I’ve been wearing shorts now. It’s almost 30 degrees here and suddenly I’ve noticed I don’t care what others think. I even wore an almost sleeveless top! Who am I?! I think this is due to age, and running out of fucks to give. I mean, does anyone really care what I’m wearing? I don’t think so. I just want to be as comfortable as possible.

I’m putting my outfit from yesterday here - I would never have been able to wear this a year ago, no matter how hot it got. I’m surprised at myself. Also shocked at how comfortable I was eventually! There was no panicking, no distress. I see all the flaws, but it just matters less and less. I undoubtedly sound like a broken record, but I’m just so surprised.

I don’t think I would be at this point without my dear friends. They keep me sane, truly - and they never seem to get tired of shooting down my negative self talk, which matters more than anyone would guess. I love them all very much.

Another thing that’s helping is plants. I’ve become a full time plant parent, and it feels good to see things growing under my care. I’ve never been able to really do this successfully until now. I’m currently sitting on my balcony, surrounded by my green babies, and I feel calm. It’s no small thing, to feel calm! The plants also help me practice being patient. My huge tomato is testing me - there are so many flowers, but no fruit. Not even beginnings, apart from one that’s smaller than the tip of my pinky. I’m told it takes time, but I just worry. I am doing my best though, and that will have to be enough.

I don’t know where I’m going with all this, except nowhere. I suppose this is my blog, and I can go nowhere as much as I wish. I was going to write something the other day, but when the time came, I found I had no words anymore. Much like now! But I was thinking a lot about my active ED years for some reason. I used to be one of the moderators on a pro ana forum - one of the nice ones, one that helped me keep myself together for a long time. I was close to several people on there - I wonder where they are now? I kept in touch with a couple even after I was discharged from my first hospital stay, but these days I have lost contact with them. I hope they have found their own ways out. We were all sick, and brought together by being alone in our respective sicknesses.

I kept a journal on the forum - it was full of misery and wallowing, so I’m sort of glad I have no access to it anymore. In fact, I don’t even know what became of the forum after I left. I’ve tried to find it again, but nothing comes up on google at least. It was always a very private, invitation only forum. Everyone supported everyone, in both sickness and recovery (whichever way any of us went at the time). I think I’m - ironically - alive because of those girls. (I say girls, because it was all girls. I think there may have been one boy at one point, but he was not very active.)

It’s such a weird experience, and I can’t really explain it to anyone who hasn’t been a part of a place like that. I tried to explain it to the nurses and the doctors at the hospital, but I don’t think they got it. They saw it as harmful, and probably fairly. In fact, the whole thing made me realize how futile group therapy would be for eating disorders. It can go wrong in so many ways! I’ve only had personal therapy so I can’t be sure of course, but it just feels suspicious. At least for me. I think that you have to be mostly in recovery to really be able to get any help from a group. I think that I might be able to, now - now that I’m mostly recovered. But of course it’s not something that’s available for me anymore. The EDs are not even in my diagnoses - not the main ones anyway. You’d have to dig pretty deep.

I guess this is what I wanted to get out. I’m not proud of my involvement in a thing like the pro ana movement, but I can’t fully bring myself to be sorry either. These things happen for a reason, and the reason was to keep me alive. I’m grateful for that.

It’s time to stop writing. My plants around me are telling me to wrap up the day, and they are right. I only need a shower and then I can fully relax. Thank you to anyone who read this, it’s a mess!

#personal #ok to reblog though #tw eating disorders #tw weight #tw body image #let me know if I should tag something else and I will

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theromaboo · 10 months

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The Thirteenth Day of Britannicus

So... it's the last day now... I don't know what to think about that. But... yeah.

Today I'm doing the drawing that was the picture for the #britannicus tag for quite some time. Now the picture is Brit from Kento Ankokuden Cestvs, but two weeks ago, it was something that @the-little-fox-in-the-box drew.

And here's what was written in the post:

Thanks to @theromaboo I haven't been able to stop thinking about this guy, so I had to draw him - sleep deprived Britannicus, son of Emperor Claudius. Nero has been training on his kithara whole night, right next to his room :(

Find the post here.

He certainly looks extremely sleep deprived. That can't be from just one night of his step-bro practicing the kithara. Nah man, that is like a week of his step-bro practicing the kithara all night every night. "Is Brit okay?" is a good question here, but "Is Nero okay?" is the more important question.

I remember once when I was extremely sleep deprived and I looked absolutely horrible and I kept trying to wash my face and nothing was working. Someone said "condiment" and I thought they said "condom." I had an uncontrollable urge to sing il coccodrillo come fa? for the entire day. It was strange. Also all my memories from that day are in third person for some reason.

I like this one because it's an accurate depiction of what the average 13/14 year old looks like. There is so much expression in the face. He is so tired he has almost certainly lost his grip on reality. And I like how he has black hair. I think it looks like Brit. I'd be happy if there was like a cartoon about the Julio-Claudians and that was the character design of Brit (minus the tired-ass eyes because that gets sad after a while) (I would gladly sacrifice my left nut for a cartoon about the Julio-Claudians).

So that concludes the series. I honestly wasn't expecting that the majority of depictions featured here would be drawings. And I honestly didn't expect that most of the depictions would actually be quite good. I'll soon post a Google form where you can vote on the best ones. I might make a post about all the depictions of Britannicus I was planning to put in this series but didn't. Thank you to all my mutuals who stayed with me to the end.

#ancient rome #roman history #history #britannicus #art #the 13 days of britannicus #wow i cant believe its like over now

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thegeminisage · 8 months

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WRATH OF KHAN breakdown

i watched this movie with catherine maulthots six days ago and liveblogged it incoherently on a notepad file on my phone because No Way was i opening this devils website when spock could die any moment. i am recording my experiences here for posterity

firstly i did know going in that he was going to die. this made me wracked with anxiety. more on that later. actually when kirk walked up and was like ha ha arent you supposed to be dead i almost lost it .5 seconds into the movie

absolute first thing was that we werent sure whether or not the thing in the beginning was a test. absolutely LOST MY MIND when i realized it was the kobayashi maru. every ten seconds during this movie i went "omg an aos reference" even though i knew it was really the other way around. somehow i thought mister perfect tos jim wouldn't cheat on the test so when they sort of hinted at what he did but didn't say it i was FROTHING to know more

bones's gay little posture. that's it that's the whole bullet

bones coming to jim's place at night was like the opening of some retro gay porno. DELIGHTED to find out that jim's allergies were not in fact an aos fanon but based in both aos and tos canon (re his little old man glasses)

mad that all of the movies seem to flirt with whether or not james t kirk should retire or captain a starship and then never resolve that question ever. it's like will shatner's insecurity about aging was leeching into the very script. girl we ALL KNOW what he should be doing so either shit or get off the pot

birthday gifts cute though. oh my fucking god. a book and glasses and he shows up with both repeatedly throughout the film

khan's tits were amazing. even as an asexual, even queer as a two dollar bill, i am full of admiration for what he had going on. he was rockin it

when they put the little worms into chekov and terrel cathy was like "omg THATS why they called them khan worms" and then i got to say "omg spn reference" instead of "omg aos reference" and we were so excited she wasn't even mad about it. also, they were so gross, oh my god, i couldn't look, she had to tell me when it was safe to unhide my eyes

meanwhile we're also mercilessly mocking the oversight that allowed khan and chekov to know one another. how did that plothole make it into production

EYE personally was very shocked at the amount of non-annoying women in the movie (two??). i liked both saavik and carol though i had to google to see if saavik was a human or vulcan. VERY cute that spock gave her the wheel to fuck with kirk specifically even though anyone but kirk being captain is so WEIRD. spock can be acting captain but not actual captain!!!

i ALSO knew from spoilers that carol had had kirk's fucking child which i may have accidentally also ruined for catherine so when a woman with an adult son mentioned james kirk onscreen we both became a little. unwell.

khan's "i shall have him" this sort of sexual tension is one of many things missing from into darkness. NOT that i want to see b*nedict c*mberbatch have that with anyone bc he is quite literally so ugly i have to cover his face with my hand when i watch into darkness but they should have cast a better person as khan and then made him have sexual tension with kirk.

cathy on the khan worms coming out of chekov's ears: wow, i love that! me on the same thing: i hate it

khan's "i wish to go on hurting you" no comment

khan yell REALLY GOOD. glad to see some things never change. william shatner was like i have been and will ever be a huge fucking ham

when carol marcus went "can i cook or can't i" i decided to go ahead and start liking women again. nature is healing, etc

if i had seen kirk pop that apple in his mouth while talking about how he didn't like to lose before i wrote gambler's knife. well. the fic probably wouldn't have changed much but my brain chemistry has certainly changed now. i can't explain w human words. AAAAAAUGH

spock's line about "sauce for the goose" was so out of character we had to check the transcript and make sure that was him speaking and not kirk. "sauce for the goose"??? sir, you're a vegetarian

the cgi was surprisingly good in whatever version we watched. it really holds up, which is ironic considering we had 20-minute vistas of it in the previous movie, where it was just okay

spock's death. i cried all the way through. don't text.

i did have a vague idea of what was going on when he melded with bones bc you literally cant avoid spoilers but i didn't have Details so i was very shocked for a second until i remembered

SPOCK'S FUNERAL. oh he would have been insulted to hear jim call him human!!!!! but he WAS

kirk trying to run away from his kid was really good. if i hadn't been blinded with tears i would have really enjoyed it. didn't like the "you've never faced death" bit though bc OBVIOUSLYYY he was on tarsus iv.

anyway then they panned to the coffin and i was like SURELY HES GONNA POP OUT AND SAY SIKE but he didn't. he didn't and i just had to live with that. and we had planned to watch search for spock immediately the next day but fate intervened and i had to skip it TWO DAYS in a row and nearly died. the end.

also, i didn't realize the book spock had given kirk was the one he quoted at the end!!!!!!! really horrible.

#personal #star trek blogging #wok lb #GOD!!!!

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josis-teacup · 1 year

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Studying: Analogue vs Digital

About 3 years ago I got an ipad.

Before that I would always print out every PowerPoint and every exercis sheet. I would take my notes on paper and carry around huge folders.

After I got an ipad I would take my notes in notability and use my apple pencil. I would import all the PowerPoints, and my folders got thinner and thinner.

I still write summaries and flashcards using pen and paper but for 99 % of my university work I use my ipad.

And until yesterday. Last week I scanned an exercise book to prepare for an exam and imported the scan into notability. Yesterday either notability or icloud crashed. Luckily I managed to get back most of my notes but the scans i needed fir my exam were gone. I used all the troubleshooting advices support had on the website but its working very slowly and the is no sign of my scans. Luckily I use Google drive for additional backup so I could still access my scans but this situation had me thinking about how dependent I am on this technology.

Without my ipad and the backup data I'd be lost. I still have my summaries but that's it. I'm so dependent on my digital notes which are stored by services I have to pay for because the 32gb provided by apple are a joke, especially since a third are already used by ios. My phone is only a year or two younger and I got 128gb.

My semester is nearly over and the next one will start in about 7 weeks so I'll take the time to rethink my system. I don't want to rely on services that could crash every second resulting into me struggling to prepare for an exam. I'm glad I had another backup and the exam not being mandatory. But this could happen every day, even the day before an actually important exam.

Maybe I'll go through my notes to see what I should print or do on paper. Or I rethink my entire note taking system.

No matter what, this was definitely a wake up call.

Did you ever had a similar experience? How do you take your notes? Do you struggle balancing digital and analogue work? Or did you find a way that suits you?

#studyblr #studyspo #study notes #note taking #study advice #notability #ipad notes

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allylikethecat · 11 months

Note

I feel like causing myself pain. Gatty #28 a kiss as a lie

Hi! I want to apologize, first because this took me so long to finish, and second, because I don't think this is as pain causing as you were probably expecting. 😂 I hope you still enjoy it though and thank you so much for sending in this ask! I think this is one of my favorites that I've written so far!

❤️Ally

28. Kiss…as a lie

“Phoebe and Bo want us to meet them for a drink,” said Matty, not looking up from his phone. He was sitting on the arm of the couch in the studio, trying and failing to keep himself entertained while George worked on their new track. He was playing a new racing game, and he was exceptionally bad at it. He had finished his part ages ago, but through some kind of loyalty had decided to stay and keep George company instead of leaving with Ross and Hann. George wished he had left with them. He loved Matty, but he was an unnecessary distraction, especially when he was bored. George would have finished up an hour ago if he didn’t have to keep stopping to entertain Matty, he was like a toddler or a puppy, dangerous and destructive when he was bored.

Matty had woken up in a mood that morning, a restless edge to his actions that implied that if he was left unsupervised, he would burn the world down. George sighed. Maybe it was a good thing Matty had stayed at the studio with him, George could keep an eye on him there, who knew what state he would have found their home in upon his return if Matty had left without him.

Last time he had gotten like this, Matty had impulsively repainted half their kitchen before he got bored, then taken absolutely everything out of their closet, then lost interest in his reorganization plans. He had left George to put everything away three days later when he couldn’t take it anymore. They had to hire someone to finish repainting the kitchen, and to fix the section Matty had done. Turns out acrylic paint, and interior paint were not the same thing.

“I thought we were going to watch the new season of Bake Off,” George said, spinning around in his chair so that he no longer had his back to Matty. That had been the plan, they were going to order takeaway, put on their pajamas and watch The Great British Bake Off. Matty loved criticizing the contestants as if he was capable of more than boiling water, and George loved watching how passionate he got about it, googling recipes that he would never actually attempt. George knew it was silly, but he had been looking forward to the quiet night in.

“We still can,” said Matty, still fiddling with his phone. “We meet them for a pint, then get back home by eight at the latest, and have the rest of the night to watch Bake Off.”

George knew it was intentional, that Matty was changing tactics, they were no longer meeting for a drink, but a pint. Matty didn’t drink beer unless it was an absolute last resort, he hated the taste and hated the way the carbonation and yeast made him feel heavy and bloated. George on the other hand, loved beer, it was his drink of choice and Matty knew that.

“I don’t know,” George said, trailing off, he really didn’t want to go. He loved spending time with their friends, but it was never just one drink out when it came to Matty. He got caught up in the atmosphere, in the excitement of socializing, one always turned into two, into three and suddenly Matty was behind the bar harassing the bartender into letting him “help” or having commandeered a guitar and put on an impromptu performance and George was left to drag both their drunk asses home, then listen to Matty complain that he was dying the next morning. They were in their thirties now, they couldn’t just puke and rally like they used to.

“It will be fun!” Matty said, “just one pint for you and a single glass of wine for me.” George wanted to argue that they had wine at home, probably better wine than Matty would find at whatever divey pub they ended up at.

“I’m tired,” George tried, “I was kind of looking forward to a quiet night,” he said trailing off. He had a feeling that he was going to lose this argument.

“Just one, I swear,” said Matty, standing up to cross the distance between them, plopping himself down in George’s lap, straddling him.

George knew he was lying, even if he didn’t realize it himself. He had that glint in his eye that in their youth meant George would be waking up in a bin.

“Please?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at George, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout that he clearly thought made him look seductive but really just made him look ridiculous. George sighed, hating how far gone he was for the man that he always found himself bending to his whims.

“One drink,” George said, holding up his pointer finger to drive his point home. “One drink then we’re going home.”

Matty let out a little squeal of happiness that made him sound ridiculous and leaned in to kiss George, a sweet and quick press of the lips.

“One drink!” He parroted, and George sighed. At least they both knew he was lying.

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letsrilakkusu-blog · 1 year

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An ode to Given

A few days ago the internet collectively freaked out - myself included - when it was announced that the next chapter of Given would be the final chapter, ending its 10-year run. I'm honestly still in shock and while I'm trying to stay optimistic that maybe the big announcement that's coming with the final chapter will involve some kind of sequel, a second season of the anime seems more likely. It's difficult coming to terms with the fact that I may have to say goodbye to a series that I love so much, and with an ending that I most likely will not find satisfying. Regardless, Given has taken up a huge space in my heart for the past two years and I just wanted to write about how I found it, my experience with it, and what it means to me.

I've enjoyed manga and anime ever since I was in middle school, but toward the end of college I got too busy to keep up. Fast forward to years later in 2020, I was stuck at home during the pandemic and decided to dive back in. After rewatching a BL anime that I really liked in high school, Given came up as a suggested series. A quick Google search told me that it was a great romance story between boys in a band, cool.

The first episode starts with Mafuyu's melancholy monologue about the dream he keeps on having and I see right off the bat that I've signed up for a bit more than a cute love story with music. Then the opening song Kizuato hits and I'm totally captivated. It's probably one of my favorite opening sequences and truly captures the feel of the series with its hard-hitting instrumentals, Cenmilli's emotional vocals, and the moody art.

The series pace is on the slower side but there was enough drama and intrigue to keep pulling me in, and it's full of comedic gold. And then... episode 9, A Winter Story. It shook me to my core, everything about it was absolutely amazing. Ue's talk with Mafuyu before the show where he admits that even he doesn't know what he is doing or how to express himself, all he knows is that he loves Mafuyu's sound. The song itself, interspersed with flashbacks of Mafuyu and Yuki's relationship and Mafuyu's monologue (his "I'm lonely" is truly devastating, major props to Yano Shogo). THE KISS. A genuine surprise, so quick and so gentle from inexperienced Ue. I had to watch the episode twice because it left me in complete awe and I needed to experience it again. Then episodes 10-11 were the perfect wind-down with a lot of cute and legendary moments, aka Ue experiencing increasing levels of gay panic. The series became an instant favorite and I rewatched it immediately. I can't find the words to properly express what it did to me but it just made me feel so many things, things I don't think I've felt for a long time. I couldn't shake it.

After that, I was still hungry for more Given so I read the manga, which is a totally different and wonderful experience. The art is beautiful, and the way Kizu-sensei portrays emotions through the characters' facial expressions is unparalleled. Soon after that, the movie came to Crunchyroll, and I've been keeping up with the series in every form since. I read the chapters as they come out bi-monthly. I watched the drama adaptation (not great but not the worst I've seen). I watched the OVA many times (my favorite, all the precious RitsuMafu moments I was missing from the movie). I splurged on a second-hand DVD set of the stage play (really well done). I even watched the anime dub (tolerable), and I hate dubs. Rereading and rewatching the series are routine. Safe to say, it's consumed me for two years and the flame has not died down one bit.

Lots of fans joke about referring to Given as our comfort series when it actually hits on a lot of heavy topics and has eviscerated our emotions on more than one occasion. But it truly is my comfort place. Just as I had finished watching the anime for the first time, I lost a very close friend to illness. This friend was a fellow anime/manga enthusiast and was probably the one who introduced me to the world of BL. Although she didn't watch Given, I like to think that it could have been something we would have enjoyed together if we had the time. And although the circumstances are different, I could relate to Mafuyu prematurely losing an important person in his life. Because the story is equal parts pain and healing, Given kind of provided me with a space where I could dump all of the emotions I was experiencing, whether they were happy or sad. It taught me about loss, grief, and above all, the way music and love can heal the wounds that these things have left behind.

I also have to speak separately about the music of Given, it's just so well done, with so much care and attention to detail. You can tell that Cenmilli worked closely with Kizu-sensei or really dived into the source material when working on the music. Every song created for the series relates very clearly to an event or element of the story. I could write praises upon praises for all of them, but some of my favorites include:

Fuyu no Hanashi, for obvious reasons. Yano Shogo's raw vocals are haunting and the guitar riffs are insanely cool. The way the lyrics change from Mafuyu being stuck and unable to say goodbye in the first chorus, to finally moving forward despite that in the last chorus, show that he's getting the closure he needed.

Kizuato - The lyrics perfectly express the series' tagline "can't say goodbye, I'm still drifting with your echoes." And the pre-chorus is so, so good.

Hetakuso - A simple but insanely sweet song that is definitely Mafuyu's response to Ue's admission that he is bad at expressing himself. I squealed when I saw the lyrics mention "covered by the heat of summer" and "not being afraid of the next winter" in reference to the two of them.

Bokura dake no Shudaika - As I read the lyrics, I can't tell if the song is referencing Akihiko and Ugetsu's relationship or Akihiko and Haruki's (maybe it's both), but I actually like that ambiguity. I also love how it beautifully incorporates the violin as a salute to Aki and Ugetsu.

Uragawa no Sonzai - I know Mafuyu is singing the song but I like to think of it from Ue's perspective. He is aware that there is a side to Mafuyu that he doesn't know, his past, a time when he cried, a person he cried over. But he embraces this "existence on the other side" as a precious part of the person he loves and vows that he will fill up for what the other is lacking, and vice versa. I'm crying.

Now that the series is coming to an end, I don't know what I'll do with myself. If it's truly ending for good, I do have my complaints, but I'll save that for another time. No matter what though, Given is solidified as one of my top anime/manga series of all time, and I'm sure I'll keep revisiting it over the years even after it's finished. It's given me so much - joy (RitsuMafu soft moments are my serotonin), sorrow (Strawberry Swing, anyone?), laughs (too many to count), and some of my favorite music - and for that, I'm incredibly thankful.

#given #given manga #given anime #kizu natsuki

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lsyd25 · 1 year

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Forsaking all others

Okay, so I was planning on writing something new today to break in my brand new (to me) laptop when I found this absolute gem hiding in my google docs. I wrote it several years ago. Don’t judge and I just want to share it with you all. If you like it amazing. Please like and reblog. If you don’t : keep that shit to yourself. That’s not why I’m posting it. As always you are responsible for the content you consume even if you forget that.

Antonia’s hand trembled as she lifted the bottle to her lips. She blinked back tears trying desperately to hold on to a stoic facade. She scowled at the abnormal sign of weakness. In her world, weakness meant death. She couldn’t afford any faults. Her daughter’s life depended-depends on it. She rolled the empty bottle between her brown hands, needing to do something with all her restless energy. Plucking at her quickly disappearing manicure she ruminated on the circumstances that led her to this moment.

Calling him was an act of desperation, and it was a decision she hadn’t made lightly. But Antonia was alone in the world and she needed help. She’d tried all her contacts, called in every favor. Like it or not, Martel would have to do. This was too important to let her pride get in the way.

So lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that someone had slid into the booth opposite hers until the waitress was plunking down two more bottles. After the young girl had sashayed away followed by a leer from her companion, Antonia cleared her throat to gain his attention. Ignoring the part of her that wanted to bare her fangs to the waitress. He was hers dammit. A small voice whispered in her head. Was. He was but he isn’t any longer.

“Not that I’m not flattered, fangs…but why did you call on me?” Martel murmured, turning back to his seatmate. Antonia took a deep breath and tried to ease the tension out of her shoulders. “Because fae-boy,” she shot back. “I need... a favor.” Martel regarded her silently for a long moment. Antonia could feel the muscles in her back protesting how tightly she held herself, waiting for rejection. His next move surprised her. Martel broke out into full on laughter, chuckles, chortles, and even a guffaw or two made their way out. His laughter brought all eyes to their table. Antonia cringed.

And then she snapped. Reaching across the table with inhuman speed she grabbed the laughing man. “Listen you sparkling freak,” she hissed. “Our daughter is missing and like it or not you are my best bet of finding her. It has been a rough three days and I would like a little bit of cooperation if that is not too much for you.” Throwing him down she sat back in a huff and to her surprise, felt tears gathering. Again. She hadn’t cried so much since she actually died.

Red droplets splashed onto the table and she heard Martel swear under his breath. A warm pale hand reached out and covered hers. Antonia lifted her misery lined face to his serious one. His stony face and stern tone brooked no argument, “I think you’d better start from the beginning.”

In response, Antonia pulled out her phone. Pulling up a photo she slid it across the table. “This is Mirabelle. I call her Mirie for short. She’s yours-ours, I mean.” She watched from lowered lashes as he studied the picture of their daughter with an impassive face. His expression never changed but his eyes. Oh God they almost broke her resolve.

“How old is she?”He asked, his eyes devouring the picture in front of him. He lifted the phone in a silent query to look at more. She gestured for him to help himself. “Fa-five,” Antonia whispered brokenly.

“I meant to tell you. I-I picked up the phone so many times but…” She hung her head. Their last argument wasn’t really conducive to sharing any kind of news, much less the discovery that she was with child. “And now she’s missing. She’s my whole world and she’s gone and I…” Martel sighed and slid the phone back to her. “ Said is said and what’s done is done.” He shot her a bitter, twisted smile. Antonia shivered. His blue eyes were so cold.

Hopping out of the booth he held a hand out to her. “All we can do is keep moving forward.” Bright golden eyes caught and held royal blue ones. “Forward,” she murmured and took his hand.

“So this is my humble abode,” Antonia announced. Martel looked around nodding approvingly. The small bungalow was deceptively designed with the main bulk of the house being underground. He resisted the urge to make a snarky comment about dirt and vampirism. It was nice and homey with comfortable child friendly furniture and personalized knickknacks artfully tucked into the various nooks and crannies. It was not just a house but a home. Martel felt an odd tug in his chest. He could easily see the bright vivacious child from the photograph in this living space. It wasn’t a space he would have thought of for her mother; however, the statuesque and stylish woman managed to fit in with her current surroundings just fine.

The woman in question had sunk down into a cushy armchair. Threading her hands into her kinky hair she sighed. Martel remembered that hair. It was the first thing that drew him to her, so unlike his pin straight inky locks, Antonia’s hair had a mind of its own. Small, tightly wound curls tumbling over and around each other, her hair was wild and free which was a direct contrast to the rest of her.

The instant he’d seen it he’d wanted to discover if it was as soft as it looked. Sunshine bright eyes reminding him of liquid gold, cat’s eyes he’d mentioned once to his friend Yoien. Right now, they were big and sleepy and reminded him of the lazy look of them after a long night filled with sweaty and tangled limbs. He firmly shook his head. There wasn’t any time for that. Mirie was missing, and he was a father on a mission. He tossed his hair back. “Where’s Mirie’s room?” The husky sound drew Antonia back to the present. She got up gracefully from the chair and led the way to a small hallway. “Over here.” She didn’t mention the brokenness in his tone or the rawness of his voice. Martel was grateful. Stepping into his daughter’s room, he closed his eyes and allowed his other senses full reign. He mostly pulled in flashes of laughter and a joyful innocence that left him yearning for that time he missed out on. There were bits of vampire magic and fledgling fae glamourie mixed in. He wondered if Antonia had recognized the Gift he’d passed down to their child. His child. Martel shoved the thought away and continued analyzing the space. Ah, there it was. Curiosity tinged with fear. It mingled with ancient magic, tainting the atmosphere of the room lightly. Wait a second, Martel frowned. Bemused. The magic was familiar to him but he couldn’t quite place it. Kneeling, he drew upon his core and opened his energy to the magic in the room. Antonia gasped. The room was freezing. Even though she couldn’t experience the cold, she recognized the amount of sheer energy he had to be expelling. It was immense. Martel puckered his brow, just a little more and he would have a name, a name would lead to motive and segue into what, when, and how. Antonia hovered over his still form anxiously praying that his silence meant a breakthrough in finding her child.

She regretted Martel’s pain but she did not regret keeping their daughter a secret. The life of a vampire was hard and lonely. Her existence relied on pain, blood, and, death. The screams and cries of her victims still echoed in her ears. Antonia thought that she would never reconcile herself completely to what she had become.

Then the one thing happened that she never would have expected. Life came from her womb. This brilliant amazing gift that was her daughter was something she cherished everyday. But, her daughter was a rarity among fae and vampire alike and with Martel being who he was…better not to take the risk and hope for the best. To forget what they had shared once upon a time and walk away for good. But with Mirie tethering them together, walking away this second time was going to be impossible. “Dammit!” Antonia gasped at the harsh sound then realized it had come from Martel. She laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Were you not able to See anything then?” She asked. “Yes and no,” his answer was vague and distracted. “It’s being cloaked. Even with that I can tell it's familiar but we are going to have to do a couple of things to get down to the bottom of this. Do you trust me?” Earnest blue eyes peered into hers. Antonia steeled her spine and looked back at him, unwavering. “Yes.” Her voice was clear and solid.

“Tell me again why this plan requires us to be bonded?” Martel sighed and turned on the bed to face the vampire. “After you tell me why we can’t discuss this in the morning like I already asked. I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything. You always overreact.”

Antonia stiffened, offended. “I do not. I just want a little bit of clarification. That’s all.” She prided herself for her well put answer. He’d have no comeback for that. “Well, I want those five years with my child that you stole but since neither one is happening tonight, will you please get some sleep and can we actually discuss this tomorrow like I already asked. Twice!” Antonia’s mouth turned down and she turned away from Martel and scooted towards the edge of the bed. Martel let out a guttural sigh and flopped on his back. That last line had been a pot shot but he really did need sleep.

Tomorrow they’d have to face his parents, that was enough of a chore to do well rested. After another hour of pretending not to hear her sniffle and faking sleep. Martel gave it up as lost and got up intending to head to the bathroom and recollect himself. Once in the hallway, his feet led him in a different direction and he found himself heading back to Mirabelle’s room.

Once there, he didn’t bother turning on the lights. His vision was enough to get by in the darkened room. He wandered around the room slowly, trying to glean as much about his daughter that he could. Before he knew it he was sitting in the dark, beside her bed clutching a photo of her and her mother to his chest crying silent sparkling tears. Sometime after that, Antonia crept in on silent feet and, saying nothing, sat down beside him and gathered him to her. No words passed between them as they quietly grieved for their lost child.

Antonia woke up alone. Blinking crusty eyes she gave a slow yawning stretch, glancing around the room for a clue where her partner in crime had gone. Mentally shrugging she dragged herself to her room to gather the required items for a much needed shower. One hot shower later found her back in her room blearily blotting out her hair. A quiet good morning had her jumping. “Martel! Please don’t do that.” He grinned. “And miss the sight of that lovely chest in that delectable towel. I think not,” he leered at her. She wrinkled her nose. “Ew,” turning around she remarked, stupidly, “You’re wearing robes. Why are you wearing robes?” Smirking, he handed her a wrapped parcel. “For the same reason you’ll be wearing them. It’s time to meet the parents.”

Antonia smoothed down the robe’s skirts with a trembling hand, watching as Martel came up behind her in the mirror. “Beautiful,” he breathed. “Court dress becomes you. But there is something missing…” he mused. With a flourish he draped a platinum pendant over her head. She immediately tried to lift it off. “This is too much,” she protested. Laying a calming hand over hers, he shook his head. “It’s not enough,” he countered. “You’ve born my heir; they’ll be expecting much more than that paltry medallion. Women like you are to be cherished and protected. To be seen as doing less is a disservice to me and my House. And as we are posing as a soon to be bonded couple we can’t have that, now can we?” With a huff she yanked her hand from underneath his, inwardly cursing the longing for his warmth as she stepped away from his body. “Apparently not,” was her sardonic reply. “Good, hopefully you’ll accept the rest of the set with more grace,” he countered briskly. “Set?” Antonia replied faintly. Martel shot her a mischievous grin that reminded her of their whirlwind romance six years ago. “Set,” he confirmed.

“So let me get this straight, we are going to travel to the Night Court and meet your parents who may or may not have kidnapped my-our child. Hopefully trick them into letting her go and then just ride off into the sunset?” Antonia was nonplussed at Martel’s affirming shrug in reply. “Basically yes,” he said. “Although you might want to let me do most of the talking and for the love of all that is holy and right, do not, I repeat, do not let us get separated. The Night Court owns all creatures of the night and they will gladly keep you if you wander off.” Antonia bristled at the thought of being owned but his next words had her pondering. “The magic that keeps you has to come from somewhere,” Martel pointed out.

He crossed over to her and started nuzzling her cheek and neck, easily capturing her hands when she went to push him off. “Antonia, listen to me.” The serious expression he wore frightened her. What were they getting themselves into? “There are goblins, trolls, shapeshifters, and lesser demons that hang around the court. They’ll be sniffing you like bloodhounds. If you’re not scent marked in any way the jig is up before we’ve even been given an audience.” Antonia sighed. "I understand, I'll be good," she promised. Martel grinned, "Good, let's go."

The throne room was vast, impressive with sweeping arches and tons of gargoyles. That moved. It might have moved her if she wasn't worried about her missing child and super aware of Martel's hand on the small of her back. Creepy night creatures crawled and limped along the shadows. Antonia even spotted a couple of vampires that she recognized and has long thought dead, only they were chained to ethereal and statuesque creatures that could only be members of the high court. Inwardly cringing at the thought of being enslaved to one of these Unseelie creatures, Antonia leaned in a little closer to Martel for comfort. His reassuring touch calmed her somewhat but the niggling feeling of unease still remained.

Fixing her eyes in front, she focused on the ebony throne ahead. It was macabre, all skulls and bones and screaming spirits and it rose toward the vaulted ceiling where a trio of imps cackled in laughter and called out insults to those gathered below. Martel took his hand off of the small of Antonia's back and held out his arm. Together they approached the throne. As they got closer Antonia could see shimmering air on the throne. A man slowly faded into view as they approached. He was tall and broad with smooth ebony skin and the darkest eyes she'd ever seen. If she hadn't sensed the magic in his aura she would have assumed he was an extension of his throne. He studied them for a long moment and when spoke, Antonia shivered a little, because his voice felt like a physical caress on her spine. It felt like smooth silk sheets and dark decadent promises, disturbingly erotic and full of authority. "My son, thou has vowed never again to step foot in this court. What has caused thee to appear before Us and forsake thy vow?"

Antonia's eyes widened in shock, Martel never said a word or acted like this would be such a grave trip. She felt foolish for not having asked and for the assumptions she made. Martel had released her arm and had gone to greet his father properly. They conversed in low tones and she felt the Holly King's knowing eyes on her more than once, she felt herself blushing at his frank assessment and apprehensive that he might find her wanting. Finally, Martel returned to her side and retook her arm running his hand alongside her forearm in a gesture of comfort. "I will search for your daughter," the Holly King intoned soberly. "If she is in my realm then she will be found." He turned his gaze inward. Antonia found her hand tightening on Martel's arm at the sight of the king's otherworldly vision. " The child Mirabelle is with my beloved." With these words Martel and Antonia found themselves outside of the throne room. Bewildered, Antonia turned to look at a visibly angry Martel. "What did he mean?" She wondered aloud. Through gritted teeth, he responded, "he meant that she is with my mother."

#lovers to enemies #child #supernatural creatures #repost? old post idek #crossposting to ao3 if you read there too

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fireandiceland · 1 year

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Fic Writer Questions

Thanks for tagging me @kitaychan 🧡

1.) How many works do you have on AO3

2.) What’s your total AO3 count?

82,884

3.) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

as of now I'm only writing for hetalia, but there's a couple of short drabbles on my abandoned marvel blog and some unposted sherlock stuff 👀

4.) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Say it. (rusame) and the nsfw drabble collection are on the same count rn

2. a visitor. (rusame)

3. How'd I ever get so lost? (pruk)

4. Let's get this over with, shall we? (prukden)

5. Unwinding Mr. Kirkland (mint chocolate - england x 2p america)

5.) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Ohh that's easy, Just once, before it's too late. I really put my everything into this. 💔

6.) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

That would be my 5 times crack fic. It's really cute and I still love the last chapter. 🥰

7.) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not interested in crossovers at all so I haven't written any.

8.) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, that's most of what I write and it's whatever I find hot. 😅 I cannot write porn if it's not something I think would be sexy cause I know it won't come out good and I take pride and writing good smut. Other than that I don't really have a preference for which kind of gender/sex to write. If I care enough about a character there will eventually be a nsfw scenario featuring them on my mind :)

9.) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I usually do, because it makes me happy when someone takes the time to comment on my fics and I want them to know 💜

10.) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Luckily, no. ✌

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Again, luckily, no. ✌

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd be lying if I said I never thought about writing a fic in english and a translation in my native language just for fun.

13.) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I will hopefully one day turn a rp between maryeve and me into a fic so I guess that would count?

14.) What’s your all time favorite ship?

It changes a lot but rn I love CanRus, nyo america x england, SuFin x DenNor, and FrUsUk. 💕

15.) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but you don’t think you ever will?

The unposted frying pangle smut from my google docs. I started writing it about two years ago and haven't looked at it in more than a year. By now I'd probably hate it so much I'd have to rewrite the whole thing.. 😶

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I have been told I'm good with (dramatic) character introductions and setting the mood. I always get these super detailed images in my head and then I try to convey those feelings and pictures into words and I'd say I'm doing very well with that. ✨🔥

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot, planning things ahead, and actually posting the stuff I do finish. 💀

18.) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I like it when it's just single words that are not plot relevant (like greetings and short exclamations that can be made sense of in the context), but you will never find me writing entire paragraphs in a different language just to make you scroll to the end of a fic multiple times throughout a chapter so you can look for a translation (sorry if I sound like bitch here but I hate having my reading flow interrupted rip)

19.) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Sherlock (BBC) I think there's still one of the fics on my ancient instagram lol

20.) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

This is easier to answer than I thought when I first read through these questions, but it's definitely Unwinding Mr. Kirkland. I spent months editing it until I was happy with it and I love it I love every last sentence I wrote there. 💖

Tagging:

@breitzbachbea @mpregfrance @alifeasvivid (no pressure as always 😚)

#tag game #about me #riva.psnl

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paranoicdatenshiintokyo · 2 years

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Tokyo's journal Vol. 1: Essential information to get around Tokyo by train

*Disclaimer: I promise that I really love living here *May contain traces of Andalusian exaggeration, irony and general boredom.

There are certain things for which Google is not enough, knowledge that can only be acquired from experience. Therefore, if you plan to visit Tokyo, I strongly recommend you read this brief guide and learn from my ancient wisdom.

The train. What a great invention. Here in Tokyo, you can count on countless transportation options and train companies, so it can be a bit overwhelming. But it doesn't matter what you choose for your daily transport. You will be crushed to death.

When I came here the first time, I didn't know that there were some train stations that I had to avoid. The main one is Shinjuku.

Shinjuku station is like a dystopian city. Labyrinths of streets under the ground, absence of natural light and happiness, hordes of people dressed alike with lost eyes… And it is huge. It is so big and has so many different exits that if you make a mistake you risk ending up in Taiwan.

Getting the wrong exit, however, is the best thing that can happen to you, since there is also an actual danger of never being able to get out of that hell. I remember that I got lost inside Shinjuku station 2 years ago. Today, I'm writing this from there.

Here, as in other big cities, there is a disgusting thing called "rasshu", which translated into English means "fxxxxxg rush hour". Okay, in Tokyo it's rush hour all day long, to be honest. But for a few hours in the morning and also in the afternoon, the rest of the countries are left empty because everyone is here, on the train, in Tokyo.

During rush hour you don't have to worry about finding a place to sit on the train, that's secondary (and impossible). Consider yourself a lucky person if you manage to get both of your feet enough floor space to stand on. The good thing is that you do not have to make any effort to keep your balance, since a mass of three thousand five people per car will be there to support you. Let's enjoy the ride.

Getting a seat is the most difficult task, as you can imagine. But please, let's have some empathy. There are plenty of office workers who are really tired of spending 12 hours working with their asses glued to a desk chair, and they have a right to sit for a while longer.

Japanese people of a certain age like to read the newspaper on the train. The problem is that the person who decided on the standard size of newspapers in this holy country was an idiot. A Japanese newspaper covers an area of approximately 2 hectares. It is convenient, however, because if someone decides to read their newspaper on the train, the passengers in the next car can also read it at the same time.

In my country there are not so many men who carry a bag, but in Japan everyone does. Men carry one, and women usually carry two or three. And they are not small purses, no. One of those bags fits a standard Japanese adult. And that's the problem. Either we put the bags in the car, or we put people, but both of them ? Impossible.

There is an interesting phenomenon that also occurs at rush hour. Imagine this situation: you get on the train, you are surprised at how empty it is and you thank God for that. No one else seems to come. Suddenly, the little alarm that indicates that the doors are going to close rings, and in the course of 3 seconds an avalanche of 2,107 Japanese enters at once.

But not everything is negative. Thanks to the train and the rush hour you can experience what it feels like to have a relationship with a Japanese man or woman. You are so close to each other that at the end of the journey you already share a pension plan. My final advice and conclusion: If you have extra budget, hire a private driver to move around the city. If not, better visit Kanazawa, which is also very beautiful and it's not so crowded.

#tokyo trip #tokyo train #living in japan #japan travel tips #jokes

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wacky-nameless-inventor-24 · 2 years

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For abandoned fic- Sadness

DAMN I GOT A LOT OF THESE TSYM YOU GUYS.

M'kay so I'm actually running out of snippets and google docs ruined my document outlines so its harder to find them -_-. SO I was going to put up another snippet of a fic I've already used for this but then I remembered this one that I haven't quiiiiiiite given up on yet, but I started it last September (oMFG SEPTEMBER WAS ALMOST A YEAR AGO????) and haven't really touched it since. It's based off of this idea, but (as far as I had planned at the time, it might change if I finish it) without the angsty part of Mads eventually fading away. This is one that I've been like "okay once I finish whatever fic I'm working on I'll go back to that one" and well... it's been almost a year now... XD

~~~

Everything had been going fine and well, before the last straw in Gyro’s mind hit.

The Spear of Selene incident.

Gyro had already lost Boyd, his mentor, and his family, and while he’d been able to somewhat grow past that, to heal a little, it still hurt.

Then he lost Della to space, Scrooge to guilt, and Donald to anger. The three people who’d been there for him over the last ten years.

And he was never able to see his best friend’s three kids hatch and grow up.

After that, Gyro found he didn’t care. Why should he? The Mad Ducktor was a part of him, it was about time he embraced it. He stopped fighting himself, and gave in peacefully whenever his malignant half arrived.

Which happened all too often after that.

It continued happening, until it all blurred together. He wasn’t simply Gyro anymore, he was the both of them, and the both of them were him. He constantly had another voice in his mind, and really, that just gave him someone to talk to during long spiteful nights in the lab. He threw himself into his work, because that was the only time when he didn’t feel anything. When he didn’t know if he was either one of them, when he could just be, and not wonder who was currently in power.

With Della gone, no one knew that Gyro wasn’t just Gyro. But at this point, did it matter? They were now the same person, and they both answered to Gyro, and they both introduced themselves as Gyro for the sake of simplicity. That name was much more notorious. People didn’t pay much attention to the inventor’s vengeful fuming or ranting, and if they did, they might’ve noticed that he occasionally referred to himself using plural words. Gyro would use ‘I’ and ‘me’ more often than not, while the Mad Ducktor would use ‘we’ and ‘our’ much of the time. Sometimes it was the easiest way for them to tell each other apart.

They’d settled on not telling others about or letting them figure out the Mad Ducktor’s existence; while that might earn Gyro more respect, it might make him hated by people, something neither of them wanted. So in the end, the secret of the Mad Ducktor was one they vowed to keep.

Then came the day that pushed the snowball down the hill, rolling into the massive ball of ice that would force the two of them apart once more.

Scrooge called Gyro into his office one morning, saying he had something he needed to tell the inventor. That’s when everything changed.

“I’m sorry, what?!” Gyro exclaimed.

“An intern?!” The Mad Ducktor repeated, appalled. “Why in Selene’s name would we get one of those?”

“Ah’m not getting an intern, only you are.” Scrooge pointed out, mistaking the 'we' in the Mad Ducktor’s sentence. “Because it’s about time ye had someone down there ta help. Ye cannae invent and keep up with all the cleanin’ and maintenance!”

“Yes, I can!” Gyro told him. “It’s worked for the last ten years!”

“But with the extra work ye’ve been doing, it’s not anymore. We’ll just try it out and see how it goes!”

“That’s what this is about,” the Mad Ducktor realized. “He’s worried about us.”

Gyro couldn’t help but agree. Over the last several months his sleep schedule had been getting worse, he would often lose track of time, skip meals, take on more work, and spend more time alone. But he wasn’t alone. At this point, he never was truly alone anymore. However, no one else could see that.

Aloud, the Mad Ducktor snapped angrily at Scrooge. “You don’t need to coddle me! I can take care of myself!”

“When did Aye ever say that?” Scrooge asked, but the Mad Ducktor knew he was right. “All Ah’m suggesting is you get some help around the lab.”

“This doesn’t feel like a suggestion,” Gyro pointed out.

“Fine, it’s not. Ye are going ta get an intern, whether ye like it or not.”

“I don’t.” Gyro grumbled.

“Too bad.” Scrooge sat back in his chair, looking through the letters on his desk. “Well, Aye’ll leave you to it…”

The Mad Ducktor stood, whirling on his heel and storming to the elevator. “Goodbye! Good luck!” Scrooge called after him.

Neither of them answered.

It took a few days to get everything set up, and eventually, the trickle of possible candidates arrived, each one coming in for a trial day, to see if they knew what they were doing and if they could get along with the scientist working there.

It was the fourth intern, and the one the Mad Ducktor disliked the most, that was chosen.

“I really don’t understand why you hate him.” Gyro thought as he was cleaning up the lab for the night. It was times like this when the two parts of him could talk, after a long day of mostly emotionless inventing, they were able to discern which was which, and they were able to be on level ground. The intern officially started work tomorrow. “I’m angry about this as well, I don’t want someone here with us, but I don’t necessarily dislike him as a person.”

“He’s too much like you,” the Mad Ducktor pointed out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The inventor exclaimed, surprised. “I thought you liked me!”

“He’s too much like you were,” his evil half clarified. “Stupidly naive yet brilliant, kind, and practically lets people walk all over him. How did you turn out?”

Gyro paused, looking around at his dark and empty lab, the list of inventions that had turned evil could be seen peeking out from a slightly open drawer, and the list of weapons he wanted to construct written on a sticky note stuck to the computer’s monitor. “A genius scientist, known all across the globe, working for one of the most powerful businesspeople on Earth?”

“Darling…”

But Gyro knew what he meant. He sighed and walked to the computer monitor, pulling the sticky note off and sticking it to the list of evil inventions, before closing the drawer.

~~~

#quite proud of the symbolism in those last three paragraphs #thanks for the ask!#anon ask #Gyro Gearloose #Mad Ducktor #Fenton crackshell Cabrera #scrooge mcduck #della duck #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #DT17 #duckverse #wacky writes

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