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minkkumaz · 10 months

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GOOD LITTLE GIRL

sometimes it felt like you were in a completely different world than yungyu. others called him bad, but you could hardly believe that. everything inside of you wanted to figure him out.

DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

PAIRING lee yungyu x fem!reader WC 2.3k TAGS classmates to lovers. school au. bad boy yungyu. minor cussing. OMI NOTE this might be one of my favorite things i've written.. ever? i'm so soft for gyu, and his bad boy persona honestly takes the cake i don't know. this plot kind of reminds me of 'she fell first, but he fell harder.' also i might've snuck a ddlc reference in here w my multifandom ass..

immortality is a concept that defines eternal life, incapability of dying. and while in your world it didn’t exist, word about him never died. there were always rumors, people telling you that getting involved with him would ruin the perfect idea of yourself. despite this, it only intrigued you more.

school was alway the main source of gossip and other immature problems, half of it being completely untrue. word spread like wild fire, even when it didn’t make sense. so why was everyone so sure that lee yungyu was this bad influence? there were times when it was best to stay behind and not involve yourself in the uproar.

though you couldn’t help but stare, unable to figure him out. the corner of his mouth crinkling whenever he smiled, how he’d always do a peace sign when posing for photos. for the most part, maybe it was less about figuring him out, and more about just admiring the boy.

a stupid class crush wasn’t something you’d admit to, he never talked to you; and your closest friends convinced you that you must’ve been a lucky one.

but out of the corner of his eye, he always saw you staring. it wasn’t a secret to him that there was this odd curiosity peaking out of your skull. if anything, it was the final push to get him to talk to you.

it was an early morning, the trees outside were beginning to bloom this april. you always thought it was the prettiest time of the year, pink and white flowers littering the long branches. a lot of the time, arriving to classes early gave you a sense of responsibility.

the air was calm, and you could focus better on any assignments you might’ve missed the night before. there were a few stragglers here and there, making the classroom less empty on these occasions. yet you appreciated when it was just yourself.

today was no excuse. all of your things were sprawled out on your desk while you busied yourself in your notebooks. responding to questions that were left unanswered on your worksheets, planning out the rest of your day, and listening to the soft knocks on the door in front of you.

wait, knocks on the door in front of you?

the knob turned slowly as lee yungyu poked his head inside to search around. not a single teacher was in sight, though there was a cute girl sitting at one of the desks, staring at him wide eyed. his expression softened upon seeing you with all your stationary spread out.

he let himself in, letting the door quietly shut behind him. at first, you were confused why someone like him was in school at this hour. wasn’t being super late with some comedic timing apart of his whole brand? it was new, but you tried to act like you weren’t shocked.

resuming what you were originally doing, it was in your best attempt to ignore the boys presence. clicking the end of your pen, you continue to scribble nonsense on your paper. though it became almost impossible as you heard the sound of a chair dragging across the floor.

looking up from the desk, his dark eyes met yours. but in retrospect, he was nothing near intimidating up close. he sat himself down and smiled at you before he spoke.

“hi, you must be y/n, right?” your name flowed off his tongue perfectly, sending a small shiver down your spine.

“ah.. yes. you’re lee yungyu.” you respond shyly.

“oh? so you know me as well then.” yungyu smirked, crossing his arms atop the table.

“well, you’re nothing short of infamous in school.” you mention, making him quirk an eyebrow.

“word gets around too quickly here. the school year barely started.” he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“there isn’t much else to expect from our classmates. i could only imagine what you’ve heard about me.”

“i’ve heard nothing but good things.” he told you, “you’re too innocent to get yourself into any trouble.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you question.

“nothing! i was just saying.”

“right..”

“you know, we’re not strangers anymore. so how about friends?” he proposes out of the blue.

“huh? why so suddenly?” you tilt your head like a lost puppy, only earning a light laugh from him.

“i’ve seen you staring at me. it only made me more curious about you.” he admits, making your heart drop to your feet, “it’s cute.”

“cute..?”

“i said what i said. so, friends?”

“okay, friends.” you agree hesitantly, tapping your fingers on the desk.

“great. how about you come with me to yoonsung hyung’s party in the woods tonight and hang out? heard it was gonna be pretty cool.” he asks.

“yoonsung? as in student council yoonsung?”

“that’s him.”

“i didn’t think he threw parties like that.” you mumble, thinking about the responsible boy.

“are we talking about the same yoonsung? he loves planning things, and i’d like to say we’re pretty close.” he tells you, picking up one of your pencils.

“that’s interesting then.” you comment, “i didn’t know the two of you were friends.”

“you must not have been stalking me hard enough then.” he jokes, drawing little stars on your notebook.

“hey!”

“i’m just teasing you. you don’t have to be so tense around me. though i am shocked you agreed to hang out with me.”

“i didn’t exactly agree to anything yet, yungyu.” you claim, erasing his stars.

“i know you’re going to say yes to me.” he looks at you intently, almost as if he’s trying to brainwash you into agreeing.

“maybe if i could get this work done by the end of the day.” you grumbled.

“boring. what are you working on anyways?” he picks up your paper to read the print, it was a rough draft of something you were writing.

“the writing homework we were assigned yesterday. i was just trying to finish it up but i haven’t liked what i’ve made so far.” you groan, snatching the paper out of his hands

“if you try so hard to make things perfect, you won’t make much progress. just write things down and fix it up later.”

“that.. that is actually pretty inspiring. aren’t you supposed to be some bad guy?”

“what did you want me to do? rip up your paper and tell you how shit of a job you were doing?”

“okay, i didn’t mean it like that–”

“y/n!” a voice called out to you, sounding very obviously distressed.

two girls appeared in the classroom, sliding the door open with ease upon seeing you with yungyu. they look almost scared for you, and after the short conversation you’ve had with your new friend, you see no reason as to why.

you glance back from your friends to him, and all he does is grin at you. ‘that’s my cue’ he mouths silently, barely peaking a whisper.

he sits up from his seat while the girls rush towards you. in the middle of this, he takes his hand and swipes your pencil pouch on the floor, watching as all the pastel highlighters and pen scatter on the floor.

“see you tonight, y/n.” he slings one of his backpack straps over his shoulder, leaving you with your friends.

“what were you doing hanging out with him?” one frowns, kneeling down to help pick up your things.

“if he was bothering you i can tell a teacher! he’s bad news..” another one whines, squeezing your cheeks to make sure you’re okay.

“i’m fine guys, don’t worry.” you mutter, sliding out of your chair to gather the remains of your materials on the floor.

“i hope you didn’t let him convince you to go to that party.”

“our y/nnie is too kind to turn someone down, but it’s for your own good..”

was all of this for your own good? their words were like knives, only deepening the cut of curiosity. everyone called him bad, but you could hardly believe that. the past thirty minutes were living proof that there was so much more to him.

regardless of their words, you felt determined to go with him to that party. there was a high chance it would help you figure out who he really was behind this twisted persona people made of him.

the forest was dark and empty, only a small beacon of light in the distance that you walked towards. there was no saying why you let a boy you had only met mere hours ago lead you through the towering trees.

leaves crunched below your hesitant feet, the only evidence that a living body has been through these depths. the grip yungyu had on your hand was almost enough to be scared of him, but it was mostly reassuring. he just didn’t want to lose sight of you.

as the party grew near, sparkling string lights weaved their way through the branches. they glistened in your eyes like stars. the chatter of people grew more audible, and before you knew it, the scene overwhelmed you.

food, drinks, a boom box, and a multitude of your classmates all gathered to have a fun time. your first party didn’t seem as scary as your friends drawn it out to be, and his presence didn’t make it any less intimidating.

“this looks fun, come on.” he pointed out, taking you farther into the crowd.

“there’s so many people here.” you add, making your way through the large group of party - goers.

“wouldn’t expect much less from yoonsung. he knows everybody.”

you replied with a nod, still holding onto his cold hand. there was a small spot amongst everyone in the middle, where you both stayed put.

people were dancing along to the music, similar to the way the flowers swayed against the wind in the spring time. suddenly, he unlaced his fingers from yours and placed them on his shoulders, snaking his own around your waist.

“do you dance?” he says quiet enough only for you to hear.

“ahm.. not really, i’ve never been good at it.”

“then follow my lead.”

“oh– okay!” you stammered, making him giggle at your obedience.

“eager, aren’t we?” he mentioned casually, “you know that i’m bad, yet you’re spending the night with me.”

“you’re the one that invited me out, stupid.” you pout, looking away from him.

“but you still couldn’t keep your eyes off of me, could you?” his hold around you tightened, pulling you closer to him. a blush crawled its way across your face.

“it wasn’t even like that!”

“what do you want from my world anyways? you’re just a good little girl.”

“and you’re supposed to be a bad little boy? that’s what you act like, but i don’t buy a second of it.” you argue playfully, “and even if you were like that, why do you want to hang out with me?”

“jeez, picking a fight with me already? i’m bad, but definitely not little.” he bites his tongue.

“not a fight, just trying to figure you out.” you admit, letting your tone turn slightly serious.

“what’s there to know when everything you’ve heard about me is probably true anyways?” he scoffs.

“that you make girls run away sobbing? that you graffitied the principals car over break? that you used to be some kind of bully?” you reply, “or maybe do you have feelings like everyone else and just don’t know how to handle them?”

“god, that got deep.” he laughed nervously, “you might be the realest person i’ve ever met.”

“you’re not so bad, you know.”

“not so bad? you barely even scraped the surface, it’s not something i have to try at. you on the other hand..”

“i’m not trying to be bad, yungyu. i’m hanging out with you because you’re my friend now, right?”

“from stalkers to friends to lovers, sounds like some weird fanfiction.” he teases.

“when are you gonna let that go?!” you grumble, letting your head fall forward into his chest.

“i’ll let it go whenever we get to that last part.”

“pfft.. what…?” you try to play it off.

removing your head from the spot on his chest, he’s already peering down at you; glancing from the plump of your lips back to your eyes. he moves a hand to place on your crown, gently forcing your head to tilt upwards to look at him.

and from all the things you’ve heard about yungyu, the one true thing was that eye contact with him could kill. it made you squirm in your spot against him, feeling a weird tension in your soul.

“you have a thing for me, it’s kind of obvious.”

“oh my god don’t say that out loud! it’s already weird that i’m here with you” you squeal, covering his mouth with your palm.

“so you’re not denying it?” his words are muffled.

“why do you always say such confusing things?! i don’t know if i like you yungyu, we’ve barely been talking for a full day.” you take your hand away with furrowed eyebrows.

“you know, you influenced me to pay closer attention to you. i guess you could say it gave me the crushes, i just wanted to see if you’d admit you had them too.” he confessed.

“you’re crazy, gyu.”

“am i really, though?” he muttered, tilting your chin to angle himself inches away from you.

it made you freeze up, a weird whirlwind of emotions floating throughout your stomach to make you sick. there weren’t enough synonyms for flustered that you could think of, but you didn’t pull away.

why didn’t you pull away?

the answer was that you couldn’t, after scrutinizing him for months, he was finally in front of you where you wanted him. and that made you realize how simple everything was, laid out perfectly after playing your cards right.

he was a person, and people are weird. they’re compelled to do crazy shit, and yungyu wasn’t an exception, you understood this.

when you didn’t flinch, nor wiggle in an endeavor to escape, he closed the small gap between you two. it was only a few seconds, not a single person nearby paying any attention. but the spark you felt was so real.

“wanna admit it now?” he smiles, pulling away from the heat of your lips.

“in your dreams, lee yungyu.”

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DISTANT LANDS AND OTHER ADVENTURES series

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george-weasleys-girl · 4 months

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North Star Series

Chapter 45 - One More Week

Summary: George and Y/N impatiently await their "official" wedding day

Warnings: none

Start here:

~•~

Married life suited George. More than anything else, he knew he was born to be Y/N's husband. He woke up smiling every day, knowing it was another day by his wife's side.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he'd mummer before kissing his groggy wife awake.

His life was perfect.

Well, almost.

It'd been fun at first. Keeping the Big Secret. It felt almost like pulling a prank.

But now, a month later, the fun had worn off. He was tired of keeping his marriage quiet. He loved his wife, and she loved him. And wanted he the whole world to know it.

"I'm tired of it too," Y/N had agreed. "But we're almost to the finish line. Just one more week, and then we can both shout it from the rooftops."

"Shout it from the rooftops, eh?" A grin spread across his face. "I could cast an extra strong sonorous charm. That way, the entire city will know. Maybe we can do it early in the morning and startle all the Death Eaters awake."

"And probably quite a few muggles too." Y/N giggled, shaking her head. "Nothing quite like waking up to a disembodied voice booming its newlywed status all over London."

George shrugged. "Give'em something to talk about," he said, then bolted upright. "They might even put it on that muggle mystery show... what's it called? We watched it a couple of nights ago."

"Unsolved Mysteries?"

"That's the one!" He shouted out, nearly bowling her over the side of the bed. "We'd be famous!"

By now, Y/N had gone from giggling to full-on laughing. "I don't know about famous. But we'd definitely be... something."

"Yep, something to talk about," he grinned and leaned in for a kiss.

Their lips had barely touched when a familiar tapping sounded at their window. George leaned his forehead against Y/N's and chuckled. "Mum has the most impeccable timing."

~•~

Y/N paused in her dressing to take in the chaotic cuteness that was Artemis and Nyx. They fluttered around the room in a merry little chase, hooting and nipping at each other. "Why don't you two take it outside?" she chuckled, opening the window after they swooped too close to Madam Mim, startling her out of her morning nap.

"Aw, here you go, Mims, your favorite spot," George gently placed the disgruntled cat on his pillow. "And look, there's a nice sunbeam to keep you warm," he said, giving her a few pats before resuming getting dressed. "I just realized another reason I'll be glad to get through the ceremony," George continued, throwing on a sweater. "Mum won't be showing up at the butt-crack of dawn every morning to finalize the wedding plans. Like, how many times do we have to finalize them before they're finally finalized?"

"Well, we did change the location at the last minute," Y/N said, referring to their decision to have the wedding at a rental cottage in Scotland for the added safety and to hopefully prevent any inconvenient questions from her grandma about why Diagon Alley was boarded up and all but abandoned, knowing she would insist on visiting if they were close by. "And besides, we're getting free breakfast every morning."

"True," George acquiesced. "Still, I'll be glad when I can publicly call you my wife. Free breakfast or not."

"Me too, my love," she said, leaning over for a kiss, which was, for the second time, interrupted. This time, by Fred knocking on the door to announce Molly's arrival. "Wakey! Wakey! Out of the nest, my little lovebirds! Mum's here!" He garbled with a mouth obviously full of food.

George rolled his eyes. "Duty calls," he said, offering his arm. "Shall we, my dear?"

~•~

They entered the kitchen to find, as usual, a full breakfast spread across the table. "Help yourselves," Molly said, unrolling a long parchment with a seemingly endless list of ideas that she no doubt thought up the night before. "I've already eaten."

"Mum's making sure you get that big wedding whether you like it or not," Fred whispered.

"What was that?" Molly snapped, eyes narrowed at her oldest twin.

"I said," Fred cleared his throat and batted his eyes. "That you're making sure we get a big, hearty breakfast whether we like it or not."

"Oh, um, right. A good breakfast is important. Now eat up, dears," Molly stammered. "Anyway, as I was saying, these are just a few things I thought about last n-" Mrs. Weasley screeched to a halt mid-sentence, her now wide eyes glaring down at George and Y/N's hands. "What is this?!" She pointed. "Explain yourselves!"

The couple followed her fiery gaze downward to discover that in the chaos of the morning, they'd completely forgotten to hide their wedding rings.

If your name is crossed out, I'm unable to tag you.

~•~

@milivanili99 @slytherclaw1978 @quackitysdrugdealer @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @fancy-pantaloons @samberriejams @totalwitch2 @aslanvez @mrsgweasley @morally-grey-obsessed @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @junerprsh @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @planetkt @thankyouforanonymity @thatonepersonwhocantwrite @smallsweetvanillabean @themaraudersslut @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @ceehance @whotfskai @moonatician @sierraluvzz @now-that-we-dontalk @LilliSummers

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x you #hp fandom #hp universe #north star series

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thezombieprostitute · 2 months

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Sparks Fly - Part 4

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~1200

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

“DC,” Mace whispers between kisses. “DC, we gotta stop.”

“What? Why,” you whine as he gently pushes you away.

“You’ve had a roller coaster of a week,” he explains. “Your emotions have been, understandably, all over the place. I want to make sure you’re in the right state of mind, that I’m not taking advantage of you.”

You can see the pain in his face as he says this. It’s clear he wants to keep going but he’s putting your emotional needs first and it makes you want him more. But you know he’s right. You hug him tight and ask, “can we still cuddle on the couch? Make out some more?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes, making you giggle. “Want to do that now,” he asks.

“Gotta finish the fries first,” you tell him, moving back to your seat. He chuckles and nods, “okay. I submit to french fry superiority.” You giggle and he continues, “we probably should use this time to talk about what’s going to happen during and after your testimony.” You sigh but nod in agreement. “I’m currently waiting to hear back if I can be with you at the courthouse but I’m hopeful. Between GBH, Barton and maybe Fowler we’ll have at least one person outside the courtroom and one inside. The third would most likely be outside the courthouse."

“And you trust them,” you say more than ask.

He nods in affirmation, “absolutely. They’re really good at keeping people alive.” You pause your eating and he thinks, “there’s probably a better way I could’ve worded that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know what you’re trying to say.” You resume eating your meal so he continues.

“As for after your testimony, I know from previous experiences that you’ll have a few options. One of them is your standard Witness Protection. We’ve got some connections with the Federal Marshalls and we can get you to them. New name, new city, and some protection. The other version of that is we set you up with a new name and enough money to start a new life in a new city. One of the primary differences being we could get you set up in another country all together.”

“What if I don’t want to leave?”

“What?”

“I worked so hard to get where I am, I don’t want to just drop everything and leave.”

“DC, these people are trying to kill you. What’s the point of holding onto everything if it just leaves you dead?”

“I’m going to die eventually, regardless of whichever option I choose. I might as well choose the option that makes me happy. What makes me happy is living here, being with you again.”

“I…I don’t know,” Mace admits. “I’m not sure how much protection we can actually offer if you’re not working for us. You’re doing everyone a huge favor by testifying, of course, but…”

“Will you at least look into it as an option, AC?”

He thinks for a minute, eyes never leaving yours. “Let me call Teach,” he finally says. “If there’s a way, she can find it.”

“Thank you, Mace. I really appreciate it.”

“Mace,” Teach says over the phone, “I’m gonna need you to put me on speaker for this.”

He quickly pulls the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker so you can hear as well. “Done,” he tells her.

“Ms. Y/L/N, can you hear me?” Teach’s tone is very serious.

“Yes, Ma’am,” you’re quick to reply.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I need you to be completely honest with me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you nod, even though she can’t see you.

“What is your primary reason for wanting to risk your life by staying in this city?”

You pause. She’s not beating around the bush at all. “My life is going to be at risk in any of the scenarios I was presented with. It’s just a matter of to what degree. The relocation options would certainly make it difficult for me to be found, especially the international one. However, the people who might occasionally check in on my safety have no investment to do so other than pay obligations. Additionally, I’d never know if I could actually trust anyone. I wouldn’t be living beyond going through the motions. I’d spend my life looking over my shoulder with minimal support.”

Looking at Mace, you continue, “whereas if I stay here, I have people I can trust. People who are invested in my safety."

“Will you accept one of the other options if we are unable to provide you the protection and means to stay?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“One last question,” Teach says. “Is your primary interest in staying because of Mace?”

You hold Mace’s free hand, fingers interlacing with his, “I’ll admit he is a major factor. But, as he pointed out recently, we’ve only been back in each other’s lives for a couple of days. I have a life here that I’m not willing to just give up without a fight. Or at least exploring all of the options. I understand your organization may not be able to offer more than this one time protection and one clean slate and I accept that. But I have to try.”

Teach is quiet for a moment, “okay. I’m gonna need a copy of your resume. Mace will know how to get it to me. In the meantime, please make sure to take care of yourself. You’ve got your testimony in just a couple of days. Which reminds me, Mace?”

“Yeah, Teach?” Mace moves closer to the phone.

“You’ve gotten approval to be in the courtroom but you are not allowed to actually be in proximity. Huffman needs to make sure none of our people are seen too close to her or the Defendant might be able to claim witness tampering.”

“Okay,” Mace nods. “That makes sense. Just so long as someone tells me what room to be in and when I can go in on my own.”

“And Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Yes, Teach?”

“You’ll have to be careful to not make too much eye contact with Mace. I understand you want some emotional support for this, but we have to be careful to make sure your testimony isn’t dismissed.”

“I understand, Ma’am.”

Teach hangs up and you curl up against Mace. You work with him to get a copy of your resume to her quickly.

“Do you think she’ll be able to find something,” you ask Mace after he sends the file.

“If anyone can, it’s her,” he assures you. “She’s quite the fighter, especially when she thinks it’s for something that’s right.”

“I hope she finds something,” you whisper.

Mace nods, “in the meantime, we should make sure to get you ready for your testimony. Like she said, I won’t be able to be with you but you’ll see me. I promise.”

“Thanks, AC. I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Tagging:

@chibijusstuff

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

#mafia!james mace #mob!james mace #james mace x reader #mace x reader #mafia au #mafia!mace #mob!mace

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

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The Boy in the Window 4 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

Chapter Summary: (Y/N) tries to balance the situation with the challenges of day to day life in Small Heath, while Tommy comes to her in search for company.

Notes: Thank you so much for the feedback on the previous part. In this one we get to see a little bit more of Small Heath beyond the Peaky Blinders and a lot of Charlie and (Y/N)- I hope you enjoy! I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Here, you can find my [Masterlist] and the [Series Masterlist]

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 4450

Part 4

[Previously]

With work, the household and Emma, she would never have considered the possibility of taking in another child unless absolutely necessary.

Well, Thomas Shelby hadn't exactly given her a choice in the matter, but he had given her means and money she couldn't dream of ever earning in that space of time. A part of her felt guilty for taking it, but he had insisted and it wasn't like she couldn't use it.

His money, which he had so carelessly dumped into her dressing gown pocket, would bring that magical, mythical "one day" a lot closer.

One day I will move out of Small Heath for good.

One day Emma will go to a decent school.

One day I might even take her on holiday.

And Charlie was an easy child- mostly.

(Y/N) could spend a day or two just watching and entertaining them, but she also had sewing and a household to run. And whatever activities she’d normally give Emma, Charlie didn’t always take to. And they certainly didn’t distract him enough, when she had to leave the room or go up or down the stairs when he and Emma were in a different place.

Once, she had dared to go outside to place some groceries there for the cold.

Upon her return, after less than ten minutes, she was met by her frustrated daughter and a boy who was absolutely beside himself. Tears and snot smeared on his face as he basically flung himself at her. He had buried his face in her skirt, the fabric muffling his loud sobs.

Little feet had stamped the floor as his hands reached for her again and again until she relented.

With a sigh, she had picked him up, legs and arms wrapping themselves around her as tightly as they possibly could, squeezing the air from her lungs.

"I thought you left. Don't leave! I don't want you to leave!", He had wailed into her shoulder with such volume, she feared the neighbours would soon start beating the walls.

"I don't know what his problem is.", Emma had huffed in disapproval as she resumed the game, that Charlie had become entirely uninterested. Even after his tears had been dried, he still refused to release her for the better part of two hours.

While she could understand - to a certain extent- since the boy had been left alone merely a few days ago in a place he had never been to before, it wasn’t the sort of behaviour that was easy to maintain for an extended period of time.

To avoid any further tearful and most importantly lengthy episodes like that, (Y/N) found herself announcing whenever she went upstairs or downstairs. These were regularly followed by hasty footsteps and irritated sighs from Emma, because they interrupted their games.

And Charlie was homesick.

Sometimes he’d wake up crying and lost for a moment and would refuse to go back to sleep without her either holding his hand or preferably all of him.

It was impossible to miss how he used any and every chance to be held, to hug her or lean into her.

At first, it had only been in moments when his emotions got the better of him, but as the days strung together, he got bolder, snuggling up to her during story time. First he'd lean into her arm, and when he realised that she didn't protest, he tried slipping under it, resting his head against her chest. Sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night to find one (or on occasion two) bodies curled into hers.

From time to time, he'd ask for Frances and complain - well, not complain. But it became obvious very quickly that he was used to an entirely different lifestyle than the one she could provide

He asked for a different kind of jam and when she explained they only had one, he wanted to know why. When she had no time to play with them because she had to do the washing, he wanted to know why it was her doing it and not the maids and was confused when she explained that they had no maids.

Yet he enjoyed chasing Emma through the lines of hanging clothes all the same.

But the main problem was that he felt trapped. He kept talking about the trees and the river behind his home, about the horses and the swing in the garden.

And yet his father had been clear - they were to stay inside as much as possible and the small courtyard couldn’t compete with the vastness of the estate he called home.

His father.

Since Thomas Shelby had handed her his son, he had spent an hour at most in their company. He’d enter, exchange barely a handful of words with Charlie, drop some money on the table and go.

Nothing else. Sometimes he’d take some of the food which she always prepared more of than necessary. But beyond that, all she saw of him were the shadows behind the windows of the Watery Lane house.

This evening, however, he came late, knocking on the kitchen door.

Unlike last time, he was properly dressed, in a dark blue tailored three piece suit and a starched shirt, with silver cufflinks and a golden chain on his pocket watch.

The suit alone looked to be as expensive as all the clothing she owned put together. He had taken his cap off, leaving his hair slightly dishevelled, a stark contrast to his perfectly polished shoes which were entirely unfit for Small Heath.

“Charlie’s already asleep.”, she explained. “Do you want me to wake him?”

He shook his head as he sat down on the small sofa, his legs outstretched.

(Y/N) smoothed down the wrinkles of her apron. She had decided to do some cleaning she hadn’t gotten around to earlier. But in light of company, she decided to take it off, draping it over the chair.

“Would you like something to eat?”, she offered, if only to escape the piercing blue eyes. “I can heat you up the leftovers from dinner.”

He shook his head once more.

“I could make you some tea?”

Again - nothing but the shaking of his head.

“You got whisky?”, he finally asked.

“No.”, (Y/N) said.

“Thought so.", he nodded, "I brought me own. Got a glass?”

She hurried to fetch one from the cupboard, glad to have something else to do than crumble under his gaze.

“Only one?”, he asked as she put it down in front of him.

Swallowing hard, she stepped back, hiding her hands behind her back so that he wouldn’t see them shake.

“If you didn’t come for Charlie, and you didn’t come for food, why are you here, Mr. Shelby?”, she asked the tips of her shoes.

Thomas Shelby huffed softly as he poured himself a drink. The sofa creaked slightly as he let himself fall back into it.

“Not used to being all alone in a house.”, he said with a shrug. “So for company, I guess.”

With that he drank.

The only sound was her racing heart and the crackling of the fire that filled the room with warmth, but it was nothing compared to the burn of his gaze.

It was as if he was looking her up and down, body and soul and seeing things beyond those the eye could pierce.

“He’s a very good boy.”, she finally said.

“Your son, I mean.”

He only drank.

“But…”

That caught his attention and his eyes shot up.

“I fear he’s getting rather restless. He’s not used to a …house like this.”

“No, he’s fucking not.”, he scoffed, bitterness dripping off of every word.

Once more he brought the glass to his lips.

(Y/N) fell silent. She had tried, and she didn’t dare push further.

Shifting from foot to foot, she wondered what she might do now.

Somehow, she felt as if she had to ask him for permission to sit or make herself some tea, even if it was her house.

It is his city though.

“How did your husband die?”, he asked, making her eyes snap up.

(Y/N)’s mouth went dry.

“H-how-?”, she stammered.

He shrugged, as if he wasn’t really interested, but then he chose to elaborate.

“Last thing I heard of you, (Y/N) (L/N), you took a job away from the city. Then your brother said you got married. Now you’re back in the same city in the same house with a new child and a new ring. So you didn’t leave him and because you’ve still got his picture on the wall, he didn't leave you. You’re a widow.”

It hurt to try and swallow the lump in her throat.

“I-I am.”, she admitted with a nod, as her eyes began to burn. All of her began to burn, her eyes, her chest, her heart.

Now she had to sit, with or without his permission.

“How?”, he asked.

Her fingers coiled around the back of the chair, wrapping themselves around the old wood. It had endured so much, it would endure this too and see her through it.

“He worked as a forrester.”

Her voice was faint and sounded foreign to her, as she forced herself to speak.

Even at the best of times, it was hard for her to meet his eyes and now it was impossible.

“Three years after we got married, there was an accident.”, she continued, as her chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“I…they say it was quick, but they never let me see his face.”

She would never forget his body lying there, with a dark cloth covering his face and his chest. She had tried, of course, to pull it away, but they had stopped her.

Their calloused hands had been hard and unyielding as they restrained her, coarse from all the work in the woods- and so like her husband's.

“You don’t want to remember him like that, love.”

Now all she remembered was the dark cloth and the unseen horrors it had contained.

“He was a good man. Better than I could have hoped for.”, she said, wiping under her eyes before the tears could hit her cheeks. “And a wonderful father.”

That was what finally broke her voice, so she just shook her head and turned away, trying not to lose it completely.

“So your husband’s dead. And your parents are dead. I know your brother’s dead. What about Edith?”

Her silence was answer enough.

“So just you and the girl?”

(Y/N) nodded.

“Fucking hell.”, he muttered under his breath and finished his drink - only to pour himself another.

“How do you do it?”, he asked, almost gently. “All on your own?”

That startled her, and even after thinking for a while, she couldn’t think of anything more than: “I try. What else can I do?”

He did not respond. Instead, he only drank and stared at her.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Hale.”, she corrected him. “My name is Hale.”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Never knew you as (Y/N) Hale.”

“Well I am that now.”

“Not to me you’re not.”

He hadn’t said it unkindly, but it still stung. And maybe that was what made her braver.

“You said we were to stay inside the house, but I can’t see why we can’t go for a walk or to the church green. It’s not your country palace, but better for children than the courtyard. I also need to buy groceries soon."

His only response - familiar by now - was to drink.

But then to her surprise, he sighed.

“I was married too. She died.”

He said it as if it was news and not a well known fact to anyone and everyone.

They knew. All of Birmingham knew.

There was simply too much funny business about the whole situation for people not to talk.

“She got shot.”

If it meant anything to him, he hid it well. In his voice at least, but there was something in his eyes as he searched for her reaction.

(Y/N) waited.

“Took a bullet for me.”

As cruel as it sounded, this elaboration did not come unexpected, even if there had been theories that she had been shot for being a pro King paddy and traitor. She wouldn’t have been the first.

“So we found and killed the man who ordered it. And his son. Took his businesses and cleaned them out. Every last one.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood, but not only at his words, but at how casually and unaffected he said them.

“And now another son came from America,”, he continued, “Fifteen fucking Sicilian mafiosos to kill us all.”

Her eyes shot up to the ceiling at once, to where the children were sleeping as she remembered the whispers.

“But-but the Mafia, they kill children too.”

An unknown fury bubbled up inside of her. The mere thought of causing harm to a child, let alone at will and out of malice was beyond her and unlocked parts of her rage so dark that she should be ashamed. But she wasn't- not in this.

Then a second, darker realisation took hold of her.

If they killed children, would they come for Charlie? And thereby for me and for Emma? We have nothing to do with this! Emma-

“And now they’ve killed John.”

“What about his children?”, she demanded to know. The eldest couldn’t be more than twelve at most. A boy, nothing more.

But Tommy Shelby didn’t even seem to hear her.

“Shot him down right in front of his house.”

“And his family?”, (Y/N) asked, louder this time. "They would have been there- what about them?"

His head snapped around, icy eyes met hers and digging into her soul.

“What about his children, Mr. Shelby?”, she repeated, as her eyes began to water. Her knuckles had long turned white.

“Nothing.”, he said. “They shot him and shot Michael and left.”

The relief nearly knocked her off of her feet and she had to pace up and down in an attempt to walk it off, although she wasn’t doing a very good job.

The Mafia.

“I made a deal today.”, Tommy Shelby said from behind her, making her turn.

(Y/N) was no longer able to follow.

“No civilians. No children.”

“Oh.”, she whispered, glancing up once more. He had said it with a tone that implied she ought to know what it meant, but she had long lost the ability to follow.

“That’s why I need you.”, he said. “Ada’s on the list. Polly’s on the list. You’re not. As long as he’s here, he won’t be caught in any crossfire.”

“But what about you?”, she asked.

He stretched his hands out and shrugged.

“I guess we’ll have to see, eh?”, he asked. “If I live, I’ll live.”

By his tone, he didn’t seem to care much.

“And if you don’t?”, she asked.

With a scoff, he twirled the whisky in the borrowed glass.

“Then Charlie will be a very rich boy.”

They were announced by the chime of the little bell as Emma pushed the door open with both her hands.

"Hello Mrs. Davies!", She called.

The woman's round face lit up as she recognised the little girl in the brown coat.

"My, my, if it isn't little Miss Hale!", She greeted.

Emma giggled as she ran up to the counter, list in hand.

"This is what we need.", She explained as she handed over the piece of paper, standing on her tiptoes to reach over the counter.

Charlie stayed back, his hand clutching hers tightly.

He hadn't let go since they had stepped out of the door, pressing himself so close to her that (Y/N) had trouble walking. With his other hand, he held onto the flap of her coat for good measure.

"Good morning Mrs. Davies.", she greeted, as she followed Emma's steps.

The woman readjusted her glasses as if she wasn't sure what she was seeing.

"Who've you got there, Mrs. Hale?", She wanted to know, as her brows furrowed.

"That's Charlie.", Emma explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "He lives with us now."

The old woman's eyes narrowed in confusion. "He does?", She asked curiously.

"For the time being."

Feeling her piercing gaze, Charlie hid behind her, still holding into her hand and burying his face into the thick fabric of her coat, which was at least twice as old as he was.

Perhaps it wasn't the worst idea- while he only had his father's eyes, he looked just like uncles had at that age. And Mrs. Davies was old enough to remember that.

"How come?", She asked almost casually, as she began to collect the items on the list. They were more and more of them than usual.

"If I told you,", (Y/N) said, stroking her gloved thumb over Charlie's hand, "you wouldn't believe me."

That deepened the other woman's frown, but she also realised that she wouldn't get more from her than that.

She called her assistant, a girl of sixteen over and handed her the list. That gave her the time to lean over the counter.

"Did you hear, the Shelbys are back!", She whispered, probably the way she had done to every customer.

"Back in Watery Lane, the whole lot of them!"

(Y/N) nodded.

Charlie's head peaked forward from behind her at the mention of his family's name.

"I noticed."

"All of them-", Mrs. Davies said. "Arthur, Polly Gray- even the Shelby girl. The one that married Red Freddie and moved away, remember? But he died years ago."

(Y/N) nodded.

"I remember."

"They say even Tommy Shelby himself's back. Can you believe it?"

More than most, probably.

"Some say it's because of the strikes, that the Blinders are back to crush it before it gets out of hand, but others say it's more. Perhaps it's true- after all John's dead! Dorothea Clark saw Polly Gray light a candle for him. Now I know you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but you'd think it's hot enough anyway where he is now."

(Y/N) felt her muscles tense at that, and not just because it was unseemly to talk like that, let alone in the presence of children. But the thought of John in hell made her angrier than she had any right to be. She didn't think of the man he had become, but the boy he had been, both the good and the bad.

And she hoped, prayed even, that despite everything, he wasn't in hell.

"Don't you live close to Watery Lane?"

As if she didn't know where everyone and anyone lived.

(Y/N) nodded.

"Then God bless you- so close the lion's den, and with children to take care of."

Oh I'm in the lion's den alright, she thought as she took the wrapped up groceries.

But the lions had been given their marching orders.

The Peaky Blinders had men at every street corner, watching. And across from her front door as well, watching day and night and guarding more than the street. Occasionally, they stopped people to search them. While they got quesitoning looks, no one dared protest.

(Y/N) hadn't been stopped. Instead, one of the Peaky Blinders at the corner, Jeremiah's son, had leaned over and whispered something into the ear of the other boy, who had nodded.

As they stepped out of the shop, and made their way back, more than one pair of eyes followed her, well not her, but the precious cargo she guarded.

(Y/N) just hoped that the other people wouldn't notice.

Charlie tugged at her hand and she looked down.

"Where are all the trees?", He wanted to know.

"There aren't any trees here.", Emma said, skipping ahead on one leg.

"Why not?", Charlie asked.

"Because there isn't any room- not with all the houses.", She told him.

"I don't like it.", He said, wrinkling his nose. "They should have less houses and more trees."

If only it were that easy.

"There's trees down by the canal.", Emma said. "Mummy, can we go?"

(Y/N) shook her head.

"I've got the groceries to carry.", She said.

But that wasn't the reason.

Everyone knew that the canals were Shelby territory, and by now probably heavily controlled, as they were another way in and out of the city.

Guns and men to make things safer.

No gun in history could ever make (Y/N) feel safer, unless in its absence.

She didn't know what would await them there and she wasn't keen on finding out with two children by her side.

Instead, she decided to take them to the church green the next day. Emma immediately saw her friends and started running, joining in their games with an ease (Y/N) had never possessed at that age.

"Don't you want to play with the other children?", She asked Charlie. "I'm sure Emma will introduce you."

His hand tightened around hers.

"Can't I stay with you?", He asked.

With Emma it had always been the opposite. Like a magnet, she attracted other children and stuck to them with equal determination. Getting her to leave was the hard part.

Charlie seemed more than content to stay at her side when she sat down on the bench. He snuggled into and reached over to hold onto the fabric of her coat on the other side, obliterating any chances she might have had of reading today's paper.

The children had begun to play a skipping game, chanting and giggling all the while, but it didn't seem all too tempting to Charlie.

Instead, he had begun to stroke her knee gently, before he finally gathered the courage to tug at her coat to get her attention.

"Can I…", he tried cautiously. "Can I sit on your lap again?"

She had sat him down there only when he had cried and her arms had gotten too tired to carry him, but she hadn't missed the way his eyes followed Emma whenever she climbed into her lap unprompted or jumped into her arms without even the slightest hint of hesitation.

"You can.", She agreed.

He climbed onto her legs at once, but instead of watching the other children, he sat so that he could face her.

"Can you sing me a song?", He asked, as he ran his thumbs down the folded collar of her coat.

"Not here, Charlie.", She said gently.

"A story?", He asked. "The one with the talking horse but…can you make it so the horse doesn't die?"

Charlie had sobbed bitter tears, when in the fairy tale the hore was executed by the false princess, and it had taken three songs to sooth him.

"Please!", he asked.

And so she did, but instead of killing the horse like in the original story, the false Princess had him locked up in the guard tower. That way the horse would still talk to the real Princess and reveal her identity, and was even alive to carry her and the Prince into a golden future.

Charlie sighed in relief, as if her one retelling corrected all the previous ones. Maybe in his mind it did.

"And?", She asked Charlie, as the story came to a close.

"They lived happily ever after.", He said, beaming from ear to ear, just like (Y/N) was. His smile was beyond infectious, any child's was.

Grinning, she tapped the tip of his nose.

"So it is true?"

She heard a voice from the side and turned. There she saw three other women awaiting her.

"When Mrs. Davies told me, I couldn't believe it.", Mrs. Sloan said. She was a tall thin woman with a tall thin face, and long, thin fingers who always clutched her purse so tightly, it turned her knuckles white.

"After all, where would you get another child from?"

Feeling their eyes, Charlie buried his face in her chest. Her hand found the back of his head, shielding him further from their view.

"He doesn't look like you at all.", Mrs. Laddler remarked. She lived close to the Sloans and one rarely saw one without the other.

At her words, Charlie turned his head the other way so that they'd be left with nothing but a view of his blond hair and the back of his cap.

"But that's to be expected, Ethel,", the third and final member of their trium, remarked.

"We all knew he couldn't be family.", Mrs. Jackson argued, pouting with her extraordinarily thin lips.

"After all, you don't have much family left, do you?"

"I don't.", (Y/N) said, not bothering to hide her fire she felt running through her veins. And they too felt the sting.

"She only meant…", Mrs. Laddler jumped in, only to be cut off by Mrs. Sloan.

"We were just wondering where you got him from."

As if he was a lost puppy or a trinket.

But (Y/N) also knew she wouldn't get rid of them that easily. So she locked away her anger for now.

"He's the son of…of an old friend."

It wasn't the truth, but not too far away to be considered a lie. They hadn't been friends, but her brother had been friends with John, and they had known each other for ages, so the old part was true.

"Ah?", Mrs. Jackson asked. "How come he's with you?"

"Because his father has some business to attend to."

It wasn't the bone they had hoped for, so they began to sniff again.

She had half a mind to tell them, just for the enjoyment of seeing the shock on their faces, but (Y/N) bit her tongue. It would only cause her, and Emma, trouble.

"We don't know him, do we?", She asked.

"No, I'm afraid, you don't.", (Y/N) said.

They knew of him of course, like every single person in this city, but sometimes she wasn't sure if even his family could claim to know him.

(Y/N) was glad to see the back of them and sighed.

"Was Dad really your friend?", Charlie asked, his head still resting against her shoulder.

No, would be the short answer, but she couldn't say that to the boy.

"When we were little, he lived on the other side of the courtyard. And his brother and my big brother were friends, so we saw each other a lot."

Charlie pulled back to look at her.

"But you're friends now? That's why I can stay with you?"

She stroked a strand of hair out of his face and hummed. Anything else would have been a lie.

End of Part 4

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind! If you are interested in more, here is my [Masterlist].

[Here you can find Part 5]

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads

TBITW Taglist:

@kaitebugg03

@esistmon

@chlorrox

@theshelbyslimited

@budugu

@woofgocows

@orkwardx0

@judig92

@100percentamess

@kabbuu

@esposadomd

@im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

#Peaky Blinders #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Thomas Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #Thomas Shelby Imagine #The Boy in the Window #valentineswritings

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hologramcowboy · 9 months

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🤣🤣🤣 I have never laughed so hard in my life, whoever wrote this is a mindless "journalist".

Danneel is no longer recognizable as Rachel Gatina and people bafely recognize Jensen's wife when he is out with her. Also, mentioning work she did decades ago is not the flex they think it is. There is a reason actors keep their resume update and always remove old roles. Danneel has aged out of the highschool bracket aaaages ago and no longer matches that type. She already looked 40 compared to the rest of her cast mates even back then. "Iconic role"? 🤣 No one remembers stripper girl, which, let's face it was her main role in just about every movie or series. Rachel does not have a fanbase because she was not a beloved character and her acting was horrible. There are just a few Jensen obsessed stans who push Rachel still because they worship Jensen. She is not known on her own, she is known for sleeping with Jensen.

What "paved the way" for her appearances in Harold & Kumar were her scantilly clad photoshoots and easy behavior. They needed a woman that was believable as weed smoking, slutty counterpart. Again, same role she plays over and over again and that she has aged out of so, if you are branding smart, stop mentioning her trashy past.

When her roles dried up( there's only so many times you can play "stripper girl" and "the other woman" when you have zero talent and presence), Jensen proceeded to ensure she was cast by nepotism in SPN. Where her role was clearly written to try to rebrand her image. Epic fail, Sister Jo was the lamest, most useless, senseless character on SPN and her acting was not even remotely credible and all she was playing was a ditzy goldigger who preyed on people just like in real life.

She did not form anything with her huband. He was offered Chaos Productions and negotiated her into the deal (nepotism again). After epic failing with their TW they betrayed the studio who had given them that production company and moved on with Amazon. Danneel proved she has no production knowledge whatsoever and did not deserve her title even remotely. She also wasted seed money on book rights for projects that were rejected by the previous studio

She did not executive produce anything, she had a VANITY title, just like her husband. Meaning her name was used to promote the project and her title was just a publicity stunt. No one, I repeat, no one in the industry will ever take her seriously as a producer and Jensen lost major credibility by putting a woman with Danneel's image (see above paragraphs about her roles) at the "forefront" of his project.

Danneel never was nor ever will be at the helm to develop television and future projects. That is not how Amazon works and,aside from this, Danneel has zero skill and talent.

She is trying really hard to rebrand her image by selling herself as a successful well known producer now. 🤣🤣🤣 What success? The movie rights of projects that were all rejected? the Winchesters which as an embarassing flop that ruined the SPN legacy? Her stripper roles who required no acting skill whatsoever? Her shady modeling gigs? What are we even talking about? That bio wants to make her seem like a woman she will never, ever be. You are trying to sell her as a "leader" when she can barely spell on her social media 🤣 As a producer when the only thing she "produces"( Jensen's words not mine I could never speak so creeepily about a woman) is children. We all know why too. 🤣 There are so many actual rolemodels, actually authentic women to support and yet stick is being put on an "actress" who made her way thanks to the casting couch and then continued to make her way thanks to who she is sleeping with. Danneel Ackles is merely a gold digger, that is her main career. Outside of that she just puts on smokes and mirrors and only people who don't do their research fall for such antics. Whoever wrote that bio was clearly trying to shift her image through full on lies. This might anger Amazon who might pull the plug on their collaboration.

#anti danneel #anti danneel ackles #anti elta graul #anti jenneel

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angelasscribbles · 9 months

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Dark Elf Chapter 7: Spirit Bound

Series: Dark Elf

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Drake (this chapter)

Word Count: 2,424

Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings for this series: Dubcon (but not really because she's a demon)

A/N: Submission for @choicesprompts Smutember prompt event. Prompt: Hard and Fast.

A/N2: I hope no one gets confused between this one and the other dark AU I have going right now, The Dark Kingdom. This one, Dark Elf is the one where Riley is a demon here to sacrifice Hana so Liam can achieve immortality. Liam is half elf, half human. Drake shifts into a tiger. Max is the human sorcerer that summoned her.

Thanks @aussiegurl1234 for prereading and drooling over this chapter. 😆

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley woke and stretched her body as memories of the night before fell through her head. The halfling prince had been even more delicious than she had imagined he would be. She turned her head to his side of the bed. Empty. But it would be, it was well past dawn, and he was expected at a council meeting. There was a note on the nightstand.

Last night was amazing. Looking forward to doing it again. I’ll expect you at dinner again tonight. Look in the closet.

She took her time with the shower; it was much more luxurious than her own. It was a walk-in with enough room for at least eight people to shower at the same time. When she was done, she stepped into the dress and admired herself in the floor-length mirror. It showcased her assets well. But then, all the clothes in her closet did. They all had been provided by Liam and were high quality and high fashion. He had good taste; she’d give him that.

When she was dressed, she picked up the phone and called Hana to reschedule. They could have lunch tomorrow. Today she had slept in thanks to her adventures with Liam. The man was insatiable. Their post-coital cuddling had led to a second round, then a third. And he really did like it rough. She had thoroughly enjoyed their little interlude, but now it was time to turn her attention to phase two of her plan. Time was running out.

She had his blood, now she needed his spell breaker.

She didn’t have to look far to find him either. When she arrived back at her room, Drake was already outside her door. She stopped well away from him. She wanted to talk to him before she got close enough for him to smell her.

Shock flashed across his face when he saw her, “You’re not in your room?”

“Obviously not.”

“Liam told me to resume guard duty this morning, he didn’t say where. I just assumed you were in there. I didn’t realize you’d be up so early.”

“Yes, well….errands…” she drummed her fingers across her lips for a moment then she smiled at him, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

A guarded expression flitted across his face, “Go ahead….”

“Liam calls you D’hala not Da’sa, why is that?”

Drake bristled as he answered, “Because I am not a servant!”

Awed disbelief mingled with elated surprise, “He hasn’t bound you to him?”

“No. I told you; I serve him by choice!”

“Oh, my dear sweet boy, being bound is a choice.” She marveled at the combination of strength and downright naivete she had found in him. Shifters, especially of the Pantera species, were some of the most powerful beings on earth. Physically he was a force to be reckoned with and magical means of defense or attack could not touch him. Yet he seemed almost innocent when it came to the ways of the world, most likely a result of the sheltered life he’d led at the palace.

She repressed her glee as she realized how incredibly simple Liam had made this. Stealing his spellbreaker would be easy. So easy it almost wasn’t sporting.

The cuff that adorned her right arm might be suppressing her demonic powers, but she had the full arsenal of all her vampiric powers at her fingertips. She supposed Liam wasn’t aware that when a vampire drank from a willing victim, some small part of the victim’s abilities were conveyed upon the blood drinker. In this case, his magic.

She’d never felt so much of someone else’s power coursing through her veins before, but perhaps the magnetic pull of her magic to his had somehow heightened it, strengthened it. Whatever the reason, she now possessed enough magic to help push the already teetering on the edge of giving in to her tiger right over the precipice.

Drake was immune to most magical forms of manipulation, but he wasn’t immune to tiger pheromones. And those she could easily manufacture now that she had access to a modicum of Elven magic. Produced by magical means or not, the pheromones themselves would be real enough. An illusion would never work on him. Fortunately, demons could shapeshift, so it was a simple matter of modifying her own actual pheromones, customizing them so that she became irresistible to him.

“I….what?” He eyed her with a combination of mistrust and curiosity.

“You can’t be bound against your will. It’s a form of…commitment.” One you couldn’t easily take back.

His only response was a grunt.

“There are benefits to being bound you know.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged languidly, “Depends on who’s doing the binding. Being bound to an immortal creature bestows immortality onto you as well.”

“Who wants to be immortal?” Shifters already had very long lifespans.

“You might, if you were truly devoted to someone. Wouldn’t you want to live as long as your lover?” With that, she moved down the hall, passing in front of him to open her door.

His nostrils flared as she walked past him into the room. His sense of smell was far more advanced than humans. Even this many hours later, there was no mistaking it. The scent was there under the soap and shampoo from her shower.

She cast a glance back over her shoulder, “What’s wrong, shifter? You look pissed off.”

Without preamble, he stepped into her room, grabbed her by the arm, and jerked her roughly to him. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and inhaled then he shoved her away with an accusing glare, “His smell is all over you!”

Riley stumbled backward but regained her footing, and her wits, quickly. With a mocking smile, she lifted her shoulders, “So? Why does that matter to you?”

“Why does that matter? Yesterday you were ready to….we were ready to….you let me….I….I thought….”

“Listen, tiger, I need a man who can think for himself. A strong one. Does that describe you?”

“Yes!”

She stepped into his personal face and tilted her head up to give him a challenging stare, “Prove it then.”

He visibly started, “Prove…what, exactly?”

“Prove your devotion,” she sank her fingers into his hair, “You want to serve so badly…serve me instead.”

“I…”

“That’s what I thought,” she shoved away from him, and spun to walk away, “pathetic.”

The beast inside him sprang to life as pain, fury, and desire twisted together into a deadly combination.

He reached for her and pulled her back, ripping the clothes from her body in one fluid motion. He pressed himself against her naked backside as a feral growl spilled out of him and his tiger rippled a little too close to the surface. He sank his teeth into the back of her shoulder as he struggled not to shift.

What the hell was happening? He’d had sex before, he’d felt lust and desire before but never had it affected him like this. His body was reacting to her as if she were another tiger. A female tiger in heat. He’d never actually experienced that, but every instinct he possessed was telling him that’s exactly what she was. Every instinct he had was also screaming at him to claim her, to possess her, to wipe Liam’s scent from her body and replace it with his own.

As he struggled to calm his beast and contain himself, Riley pushed back against him, rubbing her firm, supple ass against his rock-hard cock, “What's wrong, shifter? Even now you can’t step a toe out of line without permission?”

With fury and lust clouding his mind, he forced her to the floor, heedless of the bed mere feet away. He dropped to the ground hovering over her, one hand pushing into her upper back as the other tore at his own clothing. His cock sprang free, and he pushed her legs apart then shoved himself inside her with a primal roar.

He drove himself into her with a ferocity that would have frightened him had his mind been clear enough to register it. His senses drowned in a tidal wave of need overpowering in its intensity, wiping away every vestige of common sense, and self-control he possessed.

Riley writhed underneath him, pinned face down on the floor as he pounded relentlessly into her, deep in the grip of a passion and lust-fueled delirium. Pupils blown, restraint gone, he hurtled toward the edge of the abyss and crashed over it as his teeth tore at her shoulder. Her blood filled his mouth, and her scent filled his nostrils as his seed filled her insides. He pushed one last time, sinking himself as deep as he could go as he finished pulsing inside her.

He collapsed forward and lay on top of her panting as the roaring in his ears receded and some semblance of sanity retook him. He looked down at her ripped-up shoulder in horror, “Riley, shit! I’m sorry!”

“It’ll heal,” she told him. The only thing that healed quicker than a shifter was a demon. Indeed, the skin began knitting itself back together as he watched.

He scrambled off her, sprawling on his ass next to her on the floor, his head swiveling from side to side as if he wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten there, “I…I don’t know what happened…”

His pants were still tangled around his legs, he’d never gotten them off, just shoved down. Her dress lay on the other side of the room, ripped completely in half. He jerked his pants up, but the zipper and button had been torn out. “What the fuck?” He whispered to himself then his eyes lifted slowly to take in the woman he’d just ravaged without so much as a by your leave.

Riley had pulled herself into a similar seated position. Her eyes bore into him as she licked blood from her lips.

His eyes widened, “Did I….did I hurt you?”

“Define hurt….”

“I’m sorry…I…I don’t know what just happened to me….”

“Come here,” she motioned for him to move closer.

He scooted forward until he was in front of her. Lowering his head into her lap he fought back tears, “I swear I’ve never…I wouldn’t…I didn’t mean to….”

“It’s okay,” she crooned as her fingers combed through his hair and caressed his scalp, “I pushed you to it.”

“There’s no excuse for losing control like that,” he croaked out, his arms circling her waist as his body began to shake with soft sobs.

“Oh, my sweet tiger, you are such a delightful mix of strength and vulnerability. There’s so much you don’t know about your own kind. Let me help you find your way. Let me help you come into your own.”

“How?” He lifted pleading eyes to her.

“Let me bind you.”

“How will that help?”

“Well for one, no one will ever be able to separate us, you’ll become immortal like me, and I’ll have eternity to teach you everything you need to know.”

“Would I have to go to hell with you when you leave?”

“That’s the beauty of it, tiger. If we do this, if you agree to it, then I don’t have to leave here. Ever. You and I and Liam can all be together, for eternity. You love him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“In two days’ time, he becomes immortal. Bind yourself to me and so do you. You’ll never have to leave him, or me.”

“You can teach me about the other shifters?”

“My dear sweet boy, I can teach you anything you desire to know. We can go into the Black Spire Mountains and meet other shifters if you like,” she continued to stroke his hair as she crooned in a soothing voice, “We can hunt the monster that killed your mother together, and when we find it, we’ll destroy it! Once my full powers are restored, we will be a force to be reckoned with!”

He sat up abruptly, “You would help me avenge my mother?”

Her eyes danced with the anticipation of victory, “Oh yes my darling, we will crush the beast!”

He stared at her for a long moment then nodded, “Okay, I’ll do it!”

“Excellent!” she clapped her hands before conjuring an athame out of the ether, “Give me your hand.”

He eyed the ceremonial dagger as he considered the weight of his decision. The blade did not frighten him. She frightened him. But she also excited and mesmerized him. The thought of being bound to her for eternity galvanized him and he extended his hand to her willingly.

She grasped his hand in hers, “Look at me. I’m going to teach you the spell now. You must remember it and recite it perfectly. Can you do that for me?”

“I think I could do anything if it’s for you.”

“Good boy. Now listen carefully.”

Once she was convinced he had the invocation down, she returned her attention to his hand, still grasped in hers, and carved a symbol into his palm, then carved the same symbol into her own. Lacing their fingers together, she pressed her palm into his, mingling their blood as she intoned the incantation, “Magicam antiquam invoco, obedientiam tuam invoco, adstringo te mihi nunc et in perpetuum!”

Their hands began to glow as heat tingled against both palms. His resolve never wavering, he pressed his palm into hers as he repeated the chant she had taught him, “Tibi me libenter obligo, me tibi totum trado. Voluntatem meam trado tuis nunc et in perpetuum.”

The glow brightened until they couldn’t see their hands and the heat intensified to an almost painful level. There was a loud popping sound and the light, and heat, disappeared.

He felt an invisible force settle around his heart and tighten. Drawing his hand away from her, he turned it palm up to study the design carved into it. The blood was gone, his hand was clean and the design faded as he watched until his palm was just skin again. He flexed his hand open and closed. He couldn’t see the image she had carved there, but he could feel it. There was now an invisible cord connecting them, a thread he could follow, a tangible, undeniable force binding them together.

He opened his mouth to ask her what happened next but before he could get the words out, the door burst open, and Liam stumbled into the room, “Riley! Drake! What have you done?”

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luffyvace · 2 months

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hello! can i request hairo's kisses?

yes you may nonny! 💗💗

I’m so glad to see someone requested my silly little series!!

Enjoy anon!! And thank you! <3

Hairo’s kisses!

your first kiss would probably happen a few weeks after you’ve become an official couple

And I’m talking past the dating phase

which you likely dated for at least 4 months

Hairo had no interest in romance before, canonly

But when he does get a chance to date, let alone kiss you?

he’s all over you!!

and he’s not embarrassed one bit :)

As for your first kiss 😚

he doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily at all

so it would simply depend on what your doing, or- more like where :P

and by this I mean if your inside at the time, your first kiss will happen in private!

if your outside at the moment? pda is fine by him 💞

he’s proud to have you as his s/o so he isn’t afraid to show it at all

in fact he’s not even thinking if others are around

he’s focused on you

i mean of course! It’s not about them!

LOL

he’s also the type of person to see they’re parents kiss and not cringe, or not be embarrassed to kiss they’re mom in front of they’re friends, for a better example

you know? He just sees it as a normal thing, not cheesy or anything

a display of affection—just as it is <3

back to the lecture at hand—

Let’s say you guys were inside at the time

I’m going to go ahead and say he catches you completely off guard

you two were doing whatever you were doing

probably chatting while doing so

and as soon as the conversation ended he leaned in and gave you a 3 second kiss

Now he is a gentleman—so directly after he realizes he didn’t ask first

”oh- uh- oops- did……did you want a kiss?”

”I should’ve asked first really! I don’t even know if that was your first kiss or if I’m moving too fast—my mom told me I might wanna wait-“

”it was fine, Hairo. I loved it”

you announced beaming

and apparently that’s infectious because he got a case of the smiles too 😊

You probably resumed what you were doing before

but not before sharing a comfortable silence while doing something sappy like cuddling for a bit or holding hands 💗

from then on he’ll give you a kiss anywhere

its not like pda is illegal or forbidden or something so he sees nothing wrong with it!

The most common kiss you’ll receive from him is a forehead kiss

to say goodbye, to say hello, to say thank you, to say good luck, to say goodnight

all of the above and more

he more so gives kisses on the lips when you two are being all cuddly n such

like a quick peck after a goodbye hug

or when your snuggled up, cooing little praises to each other

Hairo’s kisses are soft and usually short

so the ‘short and sweet’ type

his lips are actually really soft!

he doesn’t have chapped lips or anything and they’re naturally moisturized

he doesn’t even do anything or put anything on he’s just kinda lucky 😂

let him tell it, it might be because he works out- 😄

I can nor confirm or deny I have no idea I haven’t researched it

but besides the point

Hairo’s kisses are gentle and meaningful

In each and every one of his kisses you can feel the love and adoration

it sends tingles up your spine and gives you goosebumps from how loved you feel

theres always at least 2 seconds of googly eyes being exchanged after your kiss as well

whether a whole crowd is watching or not

if your not into pda you’ll have to tell him because as I said he views it in a casual (yet of course, still romantic) way

So he kinda just initiates it naturally

But don’t be hesitant to tell him your uncomfortable with it! 💓

he completely understands and will keep in all his affection til he can burst it at you in private 💝

if your okay with pda, he initiates it as normal! :)

You might as well call your man the kiss genie

because ask and you shall receive darling

If this guy isn’t the gentlest giant idk who is

💋💪

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thehoneybuzz · 2 years

Text

I got my first tattoo when I was 22 years old. My big brother came for a visit - we’d been best friends living on opposite coasts for 2 years by then. A giant Samoan gentleman named Buffalo kept the shop open late to bestow my first ink - a small elephant on my rib cage. Elephants communicate across continents, and it felt good to capture that kind of forever with my brother by my side. We’d always be there for each other - even if just through rumblings. My first tattoo meant “I love you” to my brother.

Just a year later I’d get the country of Iceland tattooed on my calf. I wanted to memorialize the trip I’d taken there. I had traveled by myself to a foreign country and scuba dived between the earth's tectonic plates in a glacial lake. I put the Icelandic word for love - “elska” in the outline of the continent because Iceland wasn’t just the setting of my first solo adventure. A boy named Ian Tanzer would show up 5 days into that trip and bend what he could of his broken knees. He proposed behind a waterfall. We celebrated in hot springs and by feeding Oreos to Icelandic horses. I felt I found my whole heart in Iceland. I found myself and my soul mate on its shores. My second tattoo meant “I love you” to me and the man I’d marry.

My third tattoo was a symbol from the Harry Potter series - the Deathly Hallows. I got it at 24 when my best friend, Reece, and I found ourselves back home together. Reece and I became best friends in the fifth grade when he was told to clean the chalkboard at recess. I offered to stay behind and help, a real Hermione Granger. Somehow our board cleaning devolved into a 409 war. We shot the cleaning material across the entire classroom, and when class resumed we were all but doused in bleach. Our friendship was born of mischief. He and I would wait in line together at every midnight release of the Potter series - at bookstores and movie theaters, alike. We’d be in Europe together, as sophomores in high school, for the release of the 5th movie. Not to spoil it for you - but Sirius Black dies. I sobbed into Reece’s shoulder outside the London theater. It wouldn’t be the last time I’d need that shoulder. My third tattoo - which later grew to read “mischief managed” meant “I love you” to my best friend.

That’s when it happened.

About 6 months later I was marrying my husband, and I couldn’t keep the secret anymore. I couldn’t walk into that next phase of my life without being honest. So. 3 days before my wedding I told my dad I had tattoos. I knew he wouldn’t like it. My brother's tattoos had strained their relationship - but my brother was also living under my fathers roof. I reasoned that since I was independent and doing well on my own (at 22, 23, and 24) that his usual arguments wouldn’t apply. I knew he’d be mad. I didn’t know it would be our last real conversation - that he wouldn’t attend my wedding. At 30 we are fully estranged.

And today is his birthday.

And five years after he’s turned his heart from me I still wish I could wish him a happy birthday. That’s grief.

I’ve got more tattoos now then I did five years ago. I added the flowers of my wedding bouquet to my rib cage. I covered my Iceland tattoo, but I love that it’s still almost there. It sits beneath Mount Rainier, a compass that points NorthWest, and a triangle outlined by lilacs. I missed my home more than I loved Iceland. Now I’ve climbed the mountain I honored on my skin. I got a bee on my ass that reminds me to “live one life” as an homage to a spirit quest taken solo in Peru. Not to mention the pilot I’ve got on my quad - I think that one might be more of a self-portrait than any of ‘em. Who I see myself as when I fly. The color wheel on my forearm is my favorite and most useful. Oh - and a few stars on my wrist as another nod to Harry Potter. I know. One Harry Potter tattoo is enough, but two felt better. Reece got a matching one within a week of mine, of course.

I wear myself on my skin, and at the site of it my creator turned from me. That hurts. It also gives you superpowers. I have been made stronger for this - so I have to be grateful for it. The last words I said to my father were this.

He asked if I would do it differently now. Knowing what I know - knowing how hurt he was - knowing that it would lead to (at that point) a year of not speaking - would I do it all the same?

I looked him in the eye and said, “I would not change the tenets of my character for you or anyone.” And that was that.

If someone turns from you in your power - they are not meant for you. And it’s not wrong for you to let them go. That’s the lesson I learned from my father. I don’t know why - but he could not see me. He likely never will. And that’s okay.

Because I am okay. I am healing and grieving. But - also - creating something beautiful.

So Happy Birthday, Dad. And fuck you

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spiderdreamer-blog · 1 year

Text

Kevin Conroy: A Memorial (1955-2022)

I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to write this for a long time. Sixty-six years old. That’s less than a decade older than my father. Regardless, Kevin Conroy, the voice of Batman, is dead.

And, think for a moment about that phrasing: the voice of Batman. Many actors have come and gone and played the role, many quite well. But no one outside of perhaps Adam West, if in a very different fashion, became so singularly associated with the character than Conroy. Many have spoken on why: his humor, his humanity, his stone-cold badassery. These are all known factors. What I hope this will illuminate is what he meant to me.

Like other Batmen such as West or Michael Keaton, Conroy had an unusual path to the role. A New Yorker by trade, he studied at Juilliard in the early 1970s alongside the likes of Christopher Reeve (who he considered rooming with) and Robin Williams (who he DID room with). By 1980, he decided to give television a a try and moved to California, landing a role on the soap opera Another World. He then began performing at San Diego’s Old Globe Theatre, acting in Shakespeare (John Glover, who later became his Riddler, shared remembrances of such after his passing) and other productions such as Eastern Standard, where he played a TV producer hiding that he had AIDS. Which he said he felt obligated to do as tribute to all the friends he lost and all the funerals he attended. He continued to work primarily in TV for the next several years, with guest spots on Cheers, Matlock, Dynasty, and Murphy Brown, and larger roles on Ohara and the Vietnam drama Tour of Duty. Not always distinguished work, but it gave him a steady resume.

And then came the big one.

Conroy, by his account, was surprised when his agent initially contacted him with the offer to audition for Batman: The Animated Series. They don’t want cartoon voices, he was told, they want “real” ones (which aligned with casting/voice director legend Andrea Romano’s “voices with character” philosophy for the series). He initially wished to audition for the role of Harvey Bullock, which he felt was a more colorful and exciting part. This is a revealing insight because indeed, when you look at how Batman is written in much of the show, he’s quite static and reactive as a character. The villains get to scream and rant and joke, but Batman must be stoic and unmovable as a rock outside of rare occasions. And I suspect this was what was giving the creative team headaches in casting; as Bruce Timm and others tell it, they had found a few actors who were okay and *could* do it, but nobody really outstanding. Then Conroy stepped in and was the answer to their prayers.

For his part, as told in the wonderful story Finding Batman that he wrote for DC Pride this year, Conroy took from life. As a gay man in the 80s, not only had he seen friends and loved ones die at the hands of a cruel epidemic, he had faced discrimination and homophobia. As he began to record his audition, it all piled up: confusion. Fear. Anger.

In those moments, he became little Bruce Wayne in the alley, his life changing in an instant.

He became BATMAN.

Indeed, when one looks back, it might be tempting to call it more of an embodiment than an actual performance. But this does a disservice to Conroy’s skills. For one, he evolved the voice over time from where it started. In the early episodes especially, there’s far more of a rasp that underlines the deep growl. And his Bruce Wayne is far more cheerful and upbeat in a higher pitch, playing more into the deception that he’s a rich buffoon. By the time of Superman: The Animated Series and the revamped New Batman Adventures, he adds a flinty core to both Bruce and Batman, with the differentiation more subtle. Indeed, the Bruce voice gains a suave romanticism that will be useful in his dalliances with the likes of Lois Lane or Diana Prince. It reaches a true equilibrium in Justice League, with a gruffer tone smoothing out the rasp, which then became his “default” tone for Batman through the rest of his life.

This had a few different purposes. From a real-world Doylist sense, it lets Conroy smooth things out and protect his vocal chords better. Watsonially, it has a few different sides to it, and ones I’m not always sure were intentional. In TAS, one of the hallmarks of Batman’s characterization is his compassion. He gives most of his rogues many chances to redeem themselves, especially the likes of Harley Quinn (”I had a bad day too, once”) or Harvey Dent/Two-Face, since he blames himself for that particular tragedy. (The one exception, as ever, is the Joker because he proudly spits in the face of redemption, though Batman does still have the capacity to be amused by his misfortune at this point)

In Superman and Adventures, however, while this is still present in plots like his desire to help Arnold Wesker banish the Scarface personality or pity for Paige Monroe’s dysmorphia, a harsher, more biting tone is starting to become evident. He’s notably hostile to Superman on their first meeting, even implicitly threatening him with Kryptonite (”It doesn’t take much, does it?”). And his entreaty to Harley in Mad Love is a tough-love takedown of how the Joker’s used her as hired help “from the moment you walked into Arkham”. In Justice League, especially Unlimited, this does start to become tempered by him genuinely becoming friends with the other Leaguers and starting a romance with Wonder Woman. While his badass quotient goes up, especially the penchant for one-liners (my personal favorite is an impatient “You’re in my way” in Maid of Honor when he smacks the shit out of Vandal Savage with a chair), he also becomes more of a comedy straight man in dealing with headaches like time travel and bringing new people on. We also get the famous “Am I Blue” sequence in This Little Piggy where we all learned that holy shit he can SING. By the end, he’s actually joking around with Superman and seemingly happy.

And then of course...there’s Batman Beyond, where this all comes crashing down. (Though we do have to work backwards a little here since while it’s set in the future and the Justice League makes an appearance, Justice League itself came afterwards in production; they’re finally married fully in Unlimited’s season 2 finale Epilogue).

Conroy was in his mid-40s when Beyond began production and he was asked to play a far older Bruce Wayne. But this is not uncommon in animation, where one often plays old or young no matter what age you’re currently at. Yet what he does here is markedly different from what often happens in these cases. Often, western animation opts for caricature of what people believe older men and women sound like, a sort of high-pitched scratchy reediness; think about what Dan Castellaneta does with Grampa Simpson to make him sound like a senile buffoon. Conroy takes a different approach, instead doubling down on a gruff weariness that shows how both Bruce’s body and his moral code have degraded over the years. He’s much harsher as a taskmaster now, much less willing to believe old foes like Freeze can be redeemed, which adds friction to his relationship with Terry McGinnis, especially since a mediator like Alfred is long dead. He has great chemistry with Will Friedle, then making his voiceover debut after coming off several years of the sitcom Boy Meets World and an accompanying anxiety breakdown, as a result. It can even be funny in a darkly comedic sense since Bruce is perhaps at his most unfettered publicly, taking advantage of how he’s no longer expected to be polite to people he doesn’t wish to be, such as the instantly memeable “with a cane” moment, or his snarky “Sure you are” response to the Jokerz asserting how totally tough and badass they are. Or how he muses on the fate of Bullwhip at the end of “April Moon” when Terry reports that the gang leader doesn’t know that the good Doctor Corso has discovered his affair with Corso’s young wife: “Then maybe Bullwhip won’t be coming back...”

Yet even this gets to go through character development. Through his partnership with Terry, his moral compass slowly reawakens as the younger man truly becomes Batman in ways he couldn’t have anticipated. By Return of the Joker, Conroy is able to show how much Bruce cares about him now even through that harshness, as he tries in vain to stop him from being hurt by the Joker, and then fully endorses him as his successor. This is brought further home in Epilogue, where Conroy ages Bruce even more, first in an imagined scene where he’s at his harshest, then a real-world scene where he’s positively Alfred-y, complaining about soup he made that’s now cold. A real corner has turned.

(Epilogue also contains the famous flashback scene where a League-era Batman comforts Ace of the Royal Flush Gang as she dies. The interesting thing about this great scene is that Hynden Walch drives much of it as Ace, with Conroy’s responses being shorter and shorter. But even this gains great power in his hands: “I’m dying very soon.” “Yes. I’m sorry.”)

Justice League and Unlimited were the end of an era, the finale of the DC Animated Universe/DCAU, and it soon began to be time for Conroy and other members of the cast and creative team to move on to other projects. Yet even as others began to take over the role of Batman like Rino Romano in The Batman and Diedrich Bader essaying it quite wonderfully in Batman: The Brave and the Bold, Conroy did not fade into the ether. In this new stage of his career, he not only continued to play Batman in games like Arkham Asylum and direct-to-video films like Justice League: Doom or The Killing Joke, he perhaps got to truly flower with his vocal and emotional range. In Brave and the Bold, for instance, he had wonderful guest spots as a Superman-esque alternate Batman and a calm, foreboding Phantom Stranger. The Venture Bros. cannily cast him as Captain Sunshine, and Conroy mined his heroic tones to offer a dark, deranged parody of his iconic stature.

And more recently, he played Mer-Man in Kevin Smith’s Masters of the Universe: Revelation with a true supervillain-by-way-of-pirate energy I had NO IDEA he was keeping locked inside. I hope that he was able to record more of the role for the second season Revolution and we can have at least a little more of that, ‘cause it’s awesome. (He also played Hordak in a credits stinger in the OTHER He-Man show on Netflix, and was awesome there too, even for a series I don’t particularly care for). His Batman was starting to become more overtly comedic in shows like Justice League Action, such as a priceless scene where he tries to play “good cop” and freaks Deadshot the hell out in the process, or a quite funny appearance on Scooby-Doo and Guess Who where Batman had to deal with those meddling kids and their dog. It felt like he still had so much to offer us. Especially since this was coming after a period where I felt he was starting to lose his luster as Batman because he was asked to give essentially the same performance over and over again, much in the way that I’ve started to grow weary of Peter Cullen’s Optimus Prime.

But now...he’s gone.

When Adam West died, there was a sadness but not quite grief among Bat-fans. He had lived a full life and seen the redemption of both his own persona as a figure of fun who was in on the joke and the 60s Batman series as one of the best shows of its time, to the point of finally coming back to the role in earnest in two DTV films. By contrast, Conroy’s passing felt like a shock to the system. He had struggled in silence with cancer, to hear his friends tell it, because he cared about his fans so much and didn’t want them to worry. That kindness and compassion was a repeated theme in the remembrances. Friedle spoke of how Conroy mentored him as a voice actor in a time when he truly needed that. Mark Hamill, so often a legendary Joker to him, called him a brother. And fan after fan spoke of the kindness he showed them at conventions or in messages on platforms like Cameo. I was granted one of the latter myself for my birthday in 2021. Yes, it was paid for, but personal encouragement from Batman himself? It meant so much to hear.

In the end, I hope he knew that. I hope he understood how much we appreciated him.

Rest in peace, Dark Knight.

#kevin conroy #batman: the animated series #btas #dcau #media analysis #rip

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dotster001 · 2 years

Note

Hi, I’m Corrina. I am requesting the matchup if it is still available for twisted wonderland. I’m 5’5 1/2”. I’m an Infp, April 5th is my bday, Aries here. I’m natural blond but always always always dye my hair red. I’m a shy introverted person who sadly also has a lot of mental issues ( ptsd, depression, anxiety) from being bullied and abused by peers, family and even plenty of friends and ex relationships. I have severe trust issues due to this as well (my motto: never trust anyone). I hate it but it is what it is. I’m weird once you get to know me and I’m comfortable with you. I love rain and thunderstorms. I love music ( French pop-angele, l.e.j. ; heck I like just about anything except rap and country) I love swords anything fantasy based like lord of the rings, or wheel of time series! I love horror movies, pretty much anything dark and twisty! I love reading just don’t as much thanks to work. I love playing games like sims 4. I do not dance, I look hilarious and stupid, I have two left feet! 😂😂 I am left handed speaking of left. I would like a romantic match if possible, if it is still going on. I saw one of your match makers and loved it! I hope I have done this right.

(yo a LOTR fan? Fuck yeah 😎 my ace ring is a black "one ring" and I have a frodo build a bear that I bring with me to the doctor so I don't pass out when I do blood tests. I'm so happy you liked my matches! Hopefully this lives up to the hype)

I match you with Azul Ashengrotto.

Just trust me bro.

Mans is in a board game club. He's a fucking nerd. You can't tell me otherwise. So he is into watching fantasy stuff with you. Tell him all about the Lord of the Rings. He's already thinking about a way to market it in Twisted Wonderland. He'll find you fantasy media from his world, but for a price. (The price is a kiss. Please give him a kiss. He'll die in a good way.)

Show him the sims 4. Just do it. He'll create a thriving business in game. Wait, why are you looking at his unnamed save file? Don't do that! Okay, yeah, he made the two of you, and yeah you two are married, and yeah, you have two dogs named Jade and Floyd, and yeah, he is playing your happy little househusband, but it's not what it looks like!

He gets not trusting people. Until he met Jade and Floyd, he had no friends, and trusted no one. He was bullied, and it affects how he puts himself out there to this day. He doesn't want you to feel that way anymore. The two of you help each other grow and feel loved. He works hard to make sure you always feel safe, and wanted, and respected. And in return, your love helps him on his own healing path. It's cute for people on the outside to watch.

He loves reading too, and understands how being busy makes it hard to have time for. So the two of you work together, and come up with a plan, where every Wednesday from 6-7 you both keep your schedule clear and read together. If it becomes a cuddle sesh in the process then so be it. Azul isn't complaining.

You're outside in the rain, desperately trying to get your prim and proper boyfriend to join you.

"You won't melt, Azul. It's just rain," you giggled, playfully pulling his arm to try and make him stand in the rain with you.

"I won't melt, but my suit might, it's quite expensive, angelfish," he grimaced.

"Okay, okay, we'll compromise."

You take off his hat and coat, and gently lay them under the Ramshackle porch where they won't get wet. Then you resume your pulling.

He sighs heavily, before giving in and stepping into the rain with you. But he quickly gets a smug smile as he pulls you tightly to him, and begins swaying back and forth while humming softly.

"You know I don't dance," you pout.

"We're not dancing, we're swaying. It's a rather large difference," he hums.

You look up at him and see his soft smile. You gently push a strand of his now soaked hair behind his ear, and press your head to his chest, laughing inwardly as you hear his heartbeat pick up speed.

You both stand there like that until Jade and Floyd find you, and decide to mercilessly tease Azul.

#500 followers #matchups #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader

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tastymoves · 11 months

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Hello! I am a avid reader of your kingsman savour series! It’s so well written. Will you be resuming the latest work soon?

I’m also a big fan of the series with married hartwin and sex-worker Merlin. Not enough of that in the fandom. Would Merlin ever join them outside of the confines of the arrangement? Maybe a day where the feelings grow and no payment is wanted?

Hello Anonycous,

first of, thanks for reading my little series and the compliment :) I hope to post the next chapter some time soon. I'd like to always have one chapter written in advance and I'm still working on that. The past few months have been crazy and exhausting with real life things (most of them good, just time consuming) so I didn't get to work on it a whole lot. But it's still going.

As for the other series... I might continue it at some point. I already have an idea for another installment but I'm not sure how "private" it's going to get. At least, they'd spend more time with each other.

#fanfic #kingsman

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dragonanne · 2 years

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Title: “The New Guy…Again” (A TCW/GLTAS crossover fanfiction)

Word count: 2,387

Characters: Blight (clone OC), Lara Shey (twi’lek OC), Marseille Tiste (Blue Lantern OC), Kilowog, Plo Koon

Description: A chapter from a Star Wars: The Clone Wars/Green Lantern: The Animated Series crossover story I started working on a couple of years ago. I still kinda plan to write the other chapters, but I wanted to go ahead and post this one since I’m still really proud of it.

Blight sat in the mess, alone in the noisy galley full of clone troopers, glumly ignoring his ration portion while stirring a now-cold mug of caf. None of his brothers would sit with him. It was like being a shiny again, but worse. At least when he was a rookie, the lone survivor of his batchmates, his new battalion had welcomed him cheerfully. But now he felt like a complete outcast.

A green light flashed from the ring on his right hand, accompanied by a short, persistent beeping.

“You had best answer that,” said a deep, patient voice.

Blight looked up into the face of Plo Koon, his jedi general. Blight started to stand, but the general motioned for him to stay seated, then sat down himself.

“Something troubles you, soldier.”

It wasn’t a question. But Blight didn’t know if it was appropriate to unload his troubles on a superior officer, much less a jedi general. However, Master Plo was persistent.

“If you do not intend to answer the summons from your ring, you might as well answer my question.

The young clone trooper sighed, crumbling under the pressure.

“My ring. That’s the problem, general. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know what I’m allowed to do.” He spoke the last sentence with caution, testing the proverbial waters.

Master Plo took a moment to ponder the reply before responding. “What do you believe are your options?”

Blight considered who he was talking with and how careful he might need to be with his words. With any other jedi, he would almost definitely lie—regardless of whether they would sense his deception or not—but with Plo Koon? Honesty would be respected, even rewarded.

“Well, I could stay here, fulfill my duty and my oath to the Republic—and give up the ring. Or I could betray the Republic, abandon my brothers, and go with the lanterns to train as a Green Lantern.” He tried to subtly look up to gauge the jedi’s reaction. He thought the general was frowning thoughtfully, considering the options, but the mask the kel dor perpetually wore made it difficult to tell for sure.

“It is a remarkable opportunity. Which do you believe is the correct course?”

Blight shifted uncomfortably. However friendly and fatherly the jedi was, it didn’t seem smart to discuss possible treason with a general. The silence began to stretch into the realm of discomfort as he attempted to formulate an appropriate response.

At the moment when he feared he would finally have to speak, despite lacking a tactful answer, the ring resumed its flashing and generated a shimmering miniature apparition of Marseilles Tiste, the Blue Lantern. She looked not impatient, but certainly...expectant.

“Blight, I’m about to take Lara to, um,” she turned to look at someone outside of the range of the holographic projection. “What was the name of the planet?” A muffled voice answered, and she turned back to Blight. “Right, Corhva. I’m going to teach her some basic power ring tricks. Gauge said he would mention it to you. Would you like to come with us?” Her voice was gentle and hopeful.

Blight wasn’t excited to go on a lantern field trip, but he was borderline desperate to escape this increasingly uncomfortable discussion with Master Plo.

“Uh, sure, I mean, I’ll be right there, ma’am.”

Marseilles visibly winced. “I’m not your commanding officer, Blight, just a friend,” she said, reprimanding him gently.

“Right, um, sorry,” he apologized. I’ll be right there.” The hologram disappeared, and Blight rose, saluting Plo Koon. “I apologize, general. Excuse me.” The jedi nodded graciously and when he spoke, Blight wondered if there wasn’t a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Of course, trooper.”

Blight picked up his food tray and deposited it in the appropriate portal before leaving the mess, drawing more than a few sideways glances as he left. The walk down to the hanger where the other lanterns waited for him was awkward and long, as most walks seemed to be lately. Clones were the foremost experts in the galaxy at picking up on the smallest details of an individual—it was how they were able to tell one another apart. So even the small ring on his finger didn’t go unnoticed in the hallways, and everyone on board already knew the dilemma of the clone trooper chosen by the strange, mysterious green power ring. Everyone was waiting to see what he would do next—reject the power and opportunity in favor of loyalty to his brothers and his oath to the Republic or turn traitor and desert.

In truth, the situation had sparked intense debate among his fellow troopers—behind closed doors and over private helmet comm channels, of course. His own squad-mates had argued over him last night. Would he even be breaking an oath by leaving—a true oath? Was he bound by a promise that was never truly his choice to make? At the completion of training, the clones were never given an option to not swear loyalty to the Republic that had paid for their creation, so did the oath actually count? Were they soldiers or slaves? These kinds of questions made his head ache...and his stomach churn. Pleasant or not, it was much simpler to live his life without asking these questions.

His squad-mates seemed split on the issue. And it was tearing them apart. Gauge—a brother he’d not been particularly close to prior to the ring’s appearance—was passionately of the opinion that Blight should take the chance in front of him and forge his own path alongside the lanterns. Blight even suspected that a painful envy ached within Gauge over the opportunity. He knew it hurt his brother that he was so reluctant to seize the chance, but Blight couldn’t help it.

On the other hand, Marker, always stern and borderline obsessive with reg manual compliance, had been clear that if Blight left, he would be a traitor—to the Republic and to his brothers. And he wasn’t the only one. Whichever way he chose, Blight would be hurting someone.

He just wanted to scream! Why was this his decision to make?! He thought back to General Plo. He really, truly did want to ask the general for advice. The kindly jedi had never been anything but good to his troops. So many of them considered him to be the father they had never had. He cared about them—they all knew it. But would he be able to offer the kind of advice that Blight needed? He didn’t need the advice of his general. He certainly didn’t need the advice of a jedi. He needed the advice of a father.

Odd, he thought, that I’m thinking in those terms.

He hadn’t seen many fathers in his lifetime, but he knew some clone troopers considered the men who trained them back on Kamino to be like fathers to them. They would go to their training sergeants for advice like this, so fathers probably did similar things.

But he didn’t have one of those.

His mind was still in turmoil when he entered the hanger where he was to meet Lantern Tiste and Lara. He spotted them immediately, an athletically built human woman and a sturdy, undeniably beautiful young twi'lek woman. They were both dressed in flight suits of blue and black, form-fitted material and were standing next to the intimidating creature that was Green Lantern Kilowog. Blight’s stomach, which had already been doing uneasy flips on the walk from the mess hall, went ahead and dropped to his toes at the sight of Kilowog’s stern expression. As Blight approached, Kilowog eyed him up and down.

“Better suit up, Poozer. That rig ain’t very streamline.”

“Huh?” Blight looked down at his white plastoid armor. It was decorated with the grey markings common among the 104th Battalion, but otherwise was entirely ordinary.

“Your lantern suit,” Marseilles spoke up. “I know you haven’t decided yet, Blight, but while you train with us…” She trailed off, her voice still kind and patient.

“Oh,” Blight caught on. “Right, um...how do I do that again?” He glanced around, seeing how many of his brothers were within earshot or watching. How many would see this as him showing his “true”, traitorous colors?

Kilowog made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a scoffing noise. Marseilles shot him a scathing glance then stepped closer to Blight.

“Take your ring, form it in your mind, and will it.”

He looked at his ring, half skepticism, half hope. “Right...will it.”

For the first time, Lara Shey stepped forward.

“Here, like this,” she said shyly, and her flight suit shimmered and vanished, being replaced by a modest homespun robe. She held her fist up and her blue ring flashed. The robe was replaced once more by the flight suit. Suddenly self-conscious, she ducked her head and stepped back. “It’s easy if you let the ring do what it knows to do,” she finished softly.

“Uh, thanks.” Blight felt his face warm. He didn’t know why, but her discomfort made him feel embarrassed too. He shook off the feeling and held his ring up, staring at it intently, his brow furrowed. Focusing on the deep green of the ring, he tried to feel for it, sense its presence on his hand. He imagined what it was like to be a jedi and reach out with the Force.

But nothing happened.

Then, just as he was about to give up, he took note of a gentle hum radiating throughout his mind and his body. As he focused, it grew stronger. It felt...right. A steady, stubborn assurance. Without thinking further, he released himself to it and a green light shimmered over his armor. He looked down. The white plastoid was gone, replaced by a green and black flight suit—a variation on the theme shared between Kilowog, Lara, and Marseilles’ suits. He recognized the suit from when the ring had first flown onto his finger, but he hadn’t had much time to examine it then.

“Woah.” He didn’t know how else to respond. Marseille was grinning, and Lara was smiling shyly. “Uh, is it always like that?”

“Eh, pretty much,” Kilowog responded gruffly.

Marseille punched him playfully. “Don’t be a kill-joy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, unless you got anything you want me t’do? I’m gonna go find K’ihr and leave you to teach the rookies how to fly.”

“Right, a quick word before you go.” Marseille walked away with the large sergeant, speaking softly.

Lara moved closer to Blight as they watched the senior lanterns. “I’ve been looking forward to learning to fly. Marse has shown me a few things, but there weren’t a lot of opportunities at first, and then she wanted to wait for you.”

“How long have you, um, been…?”

“A lantern?” Lara finished for him. “The former bearer of my ring was killed in the same battle as yours.”

“Oh.” Blight thought back two rotations to the moment the ring had appeared before him. “I assumed it had been longer. You seem so, I dunno, comfortable with it all.” Lara smiled softly and wrapped her arms around herself.

“It was an answer to all my prayers. The ring—the opportunity it gave me? It was a dream come true. A chance for a new life.”

Blight frowned. He didn’t appreciate the not-so-subtle attempt to persuade him to the oh-so-wonderful lantern side.

“Why? What was so bad about your old one?” He asked.

Lara looked up at him. The look on her face was almost...horrified, and Blight immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing. He began to backpedal.

“I-I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

Lara hugged herself tighter and looked down again, her expression changing to sad uncertainty.

“No...I was a slave. Sold to a crime clan when I was a little girl.” She looked Blight in the eye. “My life has been filled with unspeakable horrors for as long as I can remember. Being chosen by this ring is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Blight’s stomach sank. He was instantly filled with a shame like he’d never experienced before in his life. He didn’t know how to apologize profusely enough to make up for his blunder. So instead he said, rather lamely, “I’m sorry.”

Lara didn’t respond. He didn’t blame her.

They stood there in awkward silence until Marseille returned.

“Well, kids? Ready for a field trip?” She was grinning.

“Yes!” Lara replied enthusiastically!

Blight didn’t bother replying.

“Excellent! Follow me.”

Marseille motioned for them to follow her towards the open hanger. At the force shield which separated them from the cold darkness of space, she stopped.

“Lesson one: personal force fields.”

A glowing halo of blue light appeared around her and before Blight realized what she meant to do, she stepped backwards through the hanger shield. He began to cry out, horrified, but realized she was standing there on the deck, unharmed and grinning. His jaw just hung open, frozen in the stifled cry and unsure how to proceed.

“The power rings generate an energy field around your body, equipped with its own life support. Power up and c’mon out,” Marseille encouraged.

Lara held her ring hand tenderly and closed her eyes. The blue energy field blossomed into life. She opened her eyes and examined her hands and arms, pleased. Without hesitation, she stepped out to join their teacher. Then they both looked back at Blight. He swallowed. All his life he’d been taught that the easiest way to die was to step through one of those very shields without the proper gear. He looked down at his ring, unsure.

“Will it,” Lara said gently.

Right, Blight thought.

He took Lara’s cue and closed his eyes. He sought out the gentle humming sensation again, grasped onto it, and concentrated. He focused on his own willpower and commanded the energy to appear. A shift in the air quality prompted him to open his eyes. A slight glimmer of green haze danced on the edges of his vision. He lifted his hands. Green energy flickered across them too. He’d done it. He looked up.

“I must be insane,” he said, a slight touch of nervous laughter wobbling his words.

And then he stepped outside, surrendering to the mercy of his ring.

To be continued…

I hope y’all like my silly little fanfic. I actually have the whole story roughly plotted (including the stuff before this) and I’ve even done some concept art for a few characters, planets, ships, etc. Hopefully I’ll share more sometime. I don’t think I’ve shared much of my writing on here before, but I thought it was about time.

#gltas #tcw/gltas crossover #clone trooper blight #Lara shey #the dragon writes #my fanfic #yeah. still super proud of this #writing this was one of the things that got me interested in finishing jade torch—it made me remember how much i loved writing #marseille tiste #my OCs #tcw #sw fanfic

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eliseitzme · 2 years

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Candy Apple-KNJ(AMBW)Cp.2

PART OF THE “RED” SERIES

(Candy Apple RED”)

Warnings: NONE

Revised

Chapter 2

After taking a shower and getting ready to be hauled into a world I consider hell Dia and I leave the house and begin walking to school. We didn't have to walk that far because our apartment is only a few blocks away.

Dia is wearing a black tight fitting catsuit and a pair of black three-inch booties while I'm rocking a pair of skinny jeans, a black sponge bob t-shirt and a pair of black vans.

Arriving at school I look around to all the random people sitting outside without a care in the world. Most of the kids here are from a well-off family or are smartasses so they probably have scholarships or jobs already waiting for them, meanwhile I'll be lucky if I make it two months after high school is over. Dia and I still haven't discussed what we are going to do but if I really don't figure something out it looks like Dia will have to take off to college and leave me stuck in this hell.

"HELLO!" Dia shouts while waving a hand in front of my face.

"Earth to Y/n come in Y/n." She says while still waving her hand in my face.

Grabbing her hand and shooing it away "What?" I replied.

"Come on school is about to start, you don't want to be late, do you?"

"Ohh yeah let's go."

Dia and I walk to our first pre-calculus class, which we thankfully have together and isn't too far from the door, which has saved us a lot of tardy slips.

Taking a seat next to each other in the third row from the front, Dia and I begin to unpack our bags with the items needed for class when the teacher and school counselor walk in.

"Miss Y/L/N," the counselor calls from the front of the class.

Dia and I both look up at the sound of my name being called which rarely ever happens.

"That's me." I answer back.

"Please come with me." The counselor answers back.

Dia and I turn to each other confused as to why I am suddenly needed by the councilor.

I began packing back up my things which wasn't much. And walk over to the front of the class to follow him out. We begin walking to wherever he's taking us. My nerves suddenly grow as to what I might have done to get myself in trouble this time.

I was in my own head when he suddenly turned around to me smiling but continuing to walk.

"I don't think we have ever met Miss Y/L/N."

"Ohh no I don't think so."

He stuck his hand out for me to shake after stopping for a second.

"I'm Mr. Min the senior counselor."

Shaking his hand, I answered. "It's nice to meet you."

We resume walking back to what I can only assume is his office stopping by the main office so that he could pick up some files.

Reaching his office, he holds the door open and allows me to walk in ahead of him.

"You can sit there." He says pointing to a chair that is in front of his desk while he walks around to the other side to sit in his chair.

I take a seat and watch as he spreads papers out in front of him and then looks back up at me with a smile.

"So. I'm sure you're wondering why I called you into my office."

I nod, my stomach turning at what he might have to say.

Please please, please, don't tell me I failed please don't tell me I have to spend another year in this hell hole please. please-

I'm brought out of my thoughts when he moves a paper in front of me.

Looking down at the paper I listen as he speaks but all I can see is dollar signs and lots of them.

"Well, you see with the end of senior year approaching there are a few things that I must make sure are taken care of and one of them being any dues or funds any student has not paid off and still owes."

He reaches over the desk and points to the top of the page.

"You can see here you have a bill from your past school. There are three library books that you checked out and have not returned. These add up to one hundred and twelve dollars. Then there is a science book that apparently needs to be paid for from freshman year. That's another forty-three dollars. You have your senior dues of course which is an additional two hundred and thirteen dollars. And then there are of course loans that your guardian owes from only making half payment on trips and such in the past that is another one hundred and three dollars."

The more he speaks the more money is added on and the more my face contorts in complete and utter shock.

"That all comes down to four hundred and seventy-one dollars and then of course you need to add on the fee from all of the loans being pushed off for so long and that's another one hundred and twenty three dollars so your total comes to five hundred and ninety four dollars." He ends smiling back at me.

We sat there for about thirty seconds with me still processing what he just said.

"OKaaay." I finally responded.

"And when does that need to be paid off?"

"By the end of this month on the thirty first ."

"BUT IT'S THE TWENTY SEVENTH!!!."

Hi, author here. I want to thank you for reading another chapter of Candy Apple. I look forward to reading your comments and hearing your thoughts. Remember to like and follow and if you see any grammar or spelling errors please make sure to point them out I will not be offended.

Also if you need to reach me or want updates on when I might post you can reach me on Instagram @Elise.itme

1018 words not including text or pictures.

#kim namjoon #namjoon #bts namjoon #namjoonkim #ynxnamjoon #bts #bts army #BANGTAN JHOPE #bangtan #bangta boys #ban #BTS suga #army #RM #btsarmie #btsrm

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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Chapter 1: Previz

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Production Designer

Summary: Previz - the visualization of complex scenes in a movie before filming.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: M, mention of drug use and overdose, mentions of sexual acts (non-descriptive), overuse of filmmaking terms, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome to Day 1 of Dieter Takeover! This interesting little concept got into my head and I couldn't stop writing it. A lot of this story ended up being a love letter to a few different mediums and professions, so I hope you enjoy the ride!

Cross-posted on AO3

Below the Line Masterlist

INT. PARLOR - DAY

It was finally here. Your big fucking break. It felt like you’d been slogging for years, through internships and low budget movies your friends begged you to work on, but it was finally paying off.

You were working on an honest-to-goodness real serious-business Hollywood film directed by THE Ronna Lewis.

And you were the production designer.

The offer almost catapulted you into orbit. Ronna had seen your work on a weird indie film about a 1950’s zombie apocalypse, which had been relegated to the depths on YouTube and was only on your resume for proof of experience. While you assumed it would be off-putting to a big shot director, she commented on the unique look and feel of your design and how it complimented the cinematography. Talking about the limitations of period pieces and finding adequate spaces and set dressing, her curly red hair and bright brown eyes sparkling as you fell into the comfortable language of your craft, you felt that you might have a shot. The phone call an hour later offering you the job felt like the culmination of so many years of hard work and “paying your dues.”

You’d worked on sets that barely needed an art department, assigned to steaming green screen cloth and becoming the de facto props master and occasional wardrobe assistant. The most soul-sucking had been interning on Cliff Beasts 5, a popcorn blockbuster with barely any direction at all. “We’ll do it in post” was spoken more often than the actor’s lines. But you’d persevered, making sure nary a wrinkle was in the cloth swathing the background, touching up the few small set pieces when the director inevitably kicked them, and trying to stay out of the actors’ ways. You were below the line, you didn’t get to interact with anyone on screen.

Well, you’d gotten to interact a little, but that was…an anomaly. Not to be expected, and not repeated in the next several films you worked on.

But that was all in the past, a hazy memory in comparison to this opportunity dropped in your lap. Ronna was fantastic, you’d seen her last 3 films and loved them all. The script was adapted from a Charles Brockden Brown novel, one that picked at your brain until you realized you’d read it in college. The story of a sheltered family, a brother and sister with their respective partners, being encroached upon by an outsider who ushers in doubts and paranoia, was so strange and gripping that you read it twice. Your mind was already buzzing with 18th century wardrobes, cluttered manors and eerie mist clinging to the ground.

The budget was…fair, you’d have to stretch some. You’d transformed an elementary school hallway into a water-damaged basement on a $250 budget, you could make it work.

The weeks of planning before production went by in a blur, spent pouring over script breakdowns, scene plans, location scouting and storyboards. You felt giddy when you discovered the house you’d be filming in - a gothic country estate resplendent with detailed archways, intricate religious reliefs cut in the sandy stone, and plenty of shadowy places. Every room held a different tone, some airy and light, others ceremonial or brooding. The grounds were extensive, plenty of space to work and set up with several outbuildings and impeccably manicured formal lawns leading to a breathtaking orangerie just outside the rose garden.

Aside from a few pieces of furniture the owner was allowing you to use, you would have free reign to make this a home for the family. You’d have work to do to bring Ronna’s vision to its full glory, but the potential seeped from the walls. You could have fun with this.

The day before principal photography was set to begin, the assistant director Dee, a tall whip of a woman with classic Grecian features and a shock of jet-black hair, gathered the crew and handed out call sheets. You scanned the page for your call time, and skimmed over the other names. Your two interns were there, Dane and Shelly, both fresh but not inexperienced. Then there were a couple familiar names on other teams. Hollywood was a smaller town than you’d expected, and you were happy to see a sound tech you went to school with, and that the focus puller was a woman you’d worked with on the 48 hour film festival. It was nice to have an ally or three.

Then you let your eyes skim over the actors on call, and your heart skipped a beat. Skipped several, in fact.

Right on the top because of his ridiculous name.

CARWIN - D. Bravo.

You swallowed and tried not to let your face change seeing that name on stark white paper. Dieter Bravo. You knew the name well before you started your career, knew the infamy of him. He’d been on a drug bender for several years, but on the sixth installment of Cliff Beasts he overdosed and finally got his act together. He married a beautiful Russian girl, the one who saved his life and who he called his “angel” in every press junket. There was also Kate, the pretty woman who followed them around, but you weren’t sure what was going on with that when ET tried to report it. It looked like Dieter Bravo had finally gotten his life together, as much as a playboy actor could.

That’s why when it all started falling apart you followed the story with rapt attention. How Anika’s father’s expectations of Dieter weren’t being met so he threatened him with his mob buddies. How when Anika discovered the real reason why Kate was part of their life (the GIF of her throwing a vase and screaming at Dieter becoming an instant reaction meme on every news show) she divorced him and married a Russian movie producer. And when Kate realized why Dieter was so obsessed with her (another unfortunate reaction GIF that circulated the internet), she filed a restraining order and made him relinquish his Mirror. Every blow made you wonder if this would be the one, the time Dieter would relapse back into the haze of his former life. The tabloids were practically salivating at the prospect.

But he soldiered on, not without a pain you could see in his few red carpet appearances. He started doing action movies, mostly as the villains, before moving into some dramatic roles. He was still referred to as “Dino Gio” or “That guy who stole the Oscar from Javier Bardem” often, but you could see him really pulling himself through and, despite everything that came before, it made you root for him.

And now you would be on set with him. Not much, of course, you would mostly be relegated to video village or flitting around on set when the actors were between takes, resetting furniture or fixing continuity. So you wouldn’t really be on set with him. Not in a way he would notice.

Not that he’s ever noticed.

The next day you tell yourself the nerves you’re feeling have everything to do with working on the biggest film of your career and not fucking it up. You can’t eat breakfast, stomach too tied up in knots, so instead you inspect the set for a fourth time. The first scene was the establishment of the family dynamic, allowing the actors to both ease into their roles and get the crew settled into Ronna’s specific shooting style. It was a refreshing approach, the way she was treating the crew and actors with respect for their crafts. You hope she goes places with an attitude like this.

The sitting room envelops you in chocolate draperies and crimson silk walls, the dark wood of bookshelves softly caressed by the light filtering in the picture window. You’re adjusting the delicate fringe on a lampshade when you hear a voice getting close to you. Most of the actors and nonessential crew were kept in the outbuildings to prevent noise pollution, so when Dieter fucking Bravo steps into your room, his phone to his ear, you’re taken aback.

He doesn’t notice you at first, and you don’t interrupt his phone call. It sounds like one to his agent, lining up a dinner and lightly griping about it. He’s not in costume, instead wearing tan chinos and a gray T-shirt that looks stretched out at the neck, wrapped in a maroon cardigan. Gesturing to no one with his large hand, he rubs his fingers into the scruff on his chin or through the wild mane of hair that curls at odd angles.

“The tell her I’ll work with him, but only if Dahlia will too. Better a bulldog than a fucking poodle,” he says into the phone, making you stifle a snort. The metal of his rings glints in the light, and the dark ink of the contrasting triangle tattoos clash against the old world aesthetic of the room. His sunglasses are too sleek to be anything but expensive, and with another stifled giggle you notice he’s wearing the black Crocs and gray socks.

He’s more polished, but still the old Dieter.

Albeit when you last saw him he was wearing a ratty green bathrobe and pajama pants when not in costume, reeking of weed and glassy-eyed more often than not. Cliff Beasts 5 was eye-opening for you, teaching you a lot about the industry and giving you a secondary education on the secret lives of actors. Dieter was an Oscar winner, but he was also the man who hotboxed his trailer bathroom so badly the production had to replace the whole thing. Or there was the time he walked out of said trailer with both the wife and husband owners of the only bar within 25 miles. He was notorious in the papers and even more in the NDAs you had to sign.

Now he’s here making placating noises on the phone, a strange sight coming from him. He seems cooler, more poised than you anticipated. The signature slinking walk, bathrobe flapping behind him, is replaced with an ambling saunter that takes up space yet looks completely effortless. He shifts from foot to foot, his face expressive as he agrees to something with a sigh: “You know me too well. Thank you.” You could trick yourself into thinking he was a completely different man.

Almost.

He ends the call and huffs with a shake of his head, finally turning to you and startling a bit.

“Jesus, I thought…shit. Sorry,” he murmurs, rubbing his hand over his mouth before offering a bright, half apologetic smile. “Just looking for a quiet place to talk. Didn’t mean to disturb you.” He looks around the room, hung with replica photos and paintings, decorated in the messy yet refined style of historic homes you used to tour as a child. “Though this disturbs me just as much. Wow. Lots going on here.”

You shake your head at his analysis of the room. “Don’t worry about it, just doing last looks. And I’ll take that as a compliment,” you say, smiling and picking up your script binder. Dieter grins again, in the way that photos never capture, his eyes disappearing into crows feet and dimples popping out of his cheeks.

God, he’s handsome.

“Dieter Bravo,” he says, extending his hand to you.

You stare at the hand for a moment, trying to still the rush of emotions inside you. Your smile comes on and off your face in quick movements, forcing it to remain before meeting Dieter’s eyes.

“Pleasure to be working with you, Mr. Bravo, I’m the production designer,” you answer, giving him your name and putting your hand in his. It’s warm and dry, engulfing, comforting, unlike the first time he’d shook your hand, clammy and sweaty without a single look in your direction, most likely on so much coke the world was vibrating in front of his eyes.

That’s how you rationalize why Dieter Bravo doesn’t remember you.

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo / you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #the bubble fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #the bubble fanfic #the bubble #prolix fics

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tuiccim · 3 years

Text

Almost Had Me Believing It - Part 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1569

Warnings: Mutual pining, smut

Summary: An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes’ wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A/N: Divider by @whimsicalrogers

Almost Had Me Believing It Series Masterlist

A few days later you and Bucky sit at breakfast discussing how to get more information about Frank.

“Well, we know one way I could get in his house but I’d rather chew glass.” You grouse.

“You, uh, you don’t find him attractive?” Bucky stutters.

“No. I mean, Frank’s a good looking guy, but he’s not a good person. He gives me the creeps, honestly.” You shudder.

Bucky reins in his smile at hearing that. He hated the idea of you liking any other man. At some point while running through the meadow yesterday, he realized you weren’t afraid of him. He was chasing you and you had this glorious smile on your face. There was no fear or anxiety about you as he tackled you to the ground. You had laughed as he did it and held onto him during the ride as if you felt safe with him. It was nothing short of a miracle in Bucky’s eyes. Very few people in his life watched him approach them without some apprehension in their eyes or tension in their body and nobody looked to him as a refuge of safety but you had. He still didn’t think he deserved it but he was determined to be a safe place and friend to you.

“He’s not like you.” You say the sentence, pulling Bucky out of his thoughts, while causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“Like me?” Bucky says in surprise.

“You’re a good looking guy but you’re also good and sweet and kind. You want to help people, not destroy them, not hurt them. And you don’t give me the creeps.” You laugh lightly hoping to cover the emotions you feel towards the man in front of you.

Bucky chuckles, “I’m glad I don’t give you the creeps.”

“Not at all.” You smile at him.

“You’re a peach.”

You smile at him and then the light bulb goes on over your head, “I have an idea.” You grab a large cup from the cabinet.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks.

“Well, we are out of sugar.”

“No, we’re not. It’s right there on the counter.”

You take the container and dump it out in the trash, “Oops. As I was saying, we’re out of sugar. I’m gonna go borrow a cup from our neighbor.”

“How does that get us more information about him?”

“He’ll invite me in and I’ll plant a bug.” You say as you pull one of the devices out of your pocket.

“I’ll go with you.” Bucky says.

“That’d look a little strange. Maybe he’ll let his guard down if I’m alone.”

“I don’t like you being alone with him.”

“I’ll be fine, Bucky. If I can take you to the mat I don't think I’ll have a problem with Frank.” You smirk at the supersoldier. Bucky gives you a nod and crosses his arms looking unhappy. “I’ll be back.” You say as you head for the door.

Frank answers his front door within a couple of minutes and smiles, “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’ve come to beg a favor of a benevolent neighbor.” You repeat the phrase Frank had used a few days ago.

Frank laughs, “Are you in need of coffee?”

“Sugar. I knocked the container over and lost it all on the floor. Do you have some to spare?” You keep your expression self-deprecating and sweet.

“Of course. Come on in. I have all kinds of sugar you can have, gorgeous.”

“I just need the white granulated kind,” you giggle as you slip past him into the house.

You follow Frank to the kitchen. He takes the cup from your hand and goes to the pantry to retrieve the sugar for you. Taking a quick assessment of the available real estate for a bug, you attach it to a space where you hope it can pick up sound in both the kitchen and living room.

“So, I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.” Frank says as he emerges.

“Yeah?”

“About a job.”

“Oh! Great. Where?” You ask.

“Do you have any bookkeeping experience?” Frank asks.

“Yes. I worked for a couple of small offices where I doubled as the office manager as well as nurse. I’m pretty decent at that kind of thing. Where’s the job?”

“Here.”

“What?” You look at him utterly confused.

“You know I’m a landlord and I have several properties. I need someone to do billing, take the payments, handle utilities, deal with the tenant requests. The accounting side has never been my strong suit and I added three more properties in the past year. It would just be part-time. If you're interested…”

“Part-time is exactly what I’m looking for right now. Do you want me to bring you a resume?”

“I’ll take you at your word.” Frank winks. “Why don’t you come back after lunch and I’ll have everything together for us to look at?”

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to take advantage of our friendship, Frank.”

“I’m sure, gorgeous.” Frank puts an arm around your shoulders as he walks you to the door. “I’ll see you this afternoon, right?”

“Okay. Thanks, Frank.” You smile as you head back to your house. You find Bucky in the office messing with the receiver. “Is it working?”

“As soon as you attached it, I could hear everything. A job offer, huh?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. A lot of access that way.” You smile.

“A lot of time alone with you.” Bucky grouses.

“I’ll be okay, Bucky. This is good.”

You had spent the afternoon with Frank going over everything with him touching you nearly constantly. Your skin crawled but you managed to play him off. His books really were a mess and you arranged to work with him for the next few afternoons to get things in order. This would afford you the opportunity to plant more bugs. Hopefully, this would also help you gain Frank’s trust and get him to eventually reveal his not so legal dealings. Bucky was unhappy with your report of the afternoon. He did not like you spending so much time alone with Frank.

“Come here, Doll.” Bucky beckons to you from the living room.

“What’s up?” You ask.

Bucky puts his arms around you and his hands grab your ass, “Jump.”

You wrap your arms around Bucky’s neck and jump wrapping your legs around him. Bucky presses you against the wall and you whisper, “Frank watching us?”

“Yup.” Bucky says as he presses his lips to the side of your neck. You arch your neck to give him better access. “Thought he might need another show. Don’t want him getting any ideas that you working for him is gonna get him anywhere.”

“I appreciate that.” You are desperately trying to hold in your moans as Bucky kisses your neck and your hands grasp his hair. Giving in to your own impulse, you pull his head back and meet his lips with your own. Bucky melds his mouth to yours and you feel his hands flex their grasp on your ass. His tongue slides into your mouth and the moan you had been holding in slips out. Your hips shift of their own accord and you can feel Bucky’s erection pressed against you. Bucky pushes away from the wall and carries you down the hallway. He pulls his lips away from yours and gently lowers you to the floor outside your room.

“You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.” He looks at you for a moment. “I hope you didn’t mind. I know I was touching-”

“Bucky. It’s fine. You’re just trying to keep Frank off me. I appreciate that. Plus, you're my husband, right?” You smile.

“Yeah. I just, I don’t want to take advantage of the situation.” Bucky says.

“I know you wouldn’t do that, Bucky. Don’t worry, okay? Good night.” You hug him around his torso and scurry into your room.

Bucky retreats to his room and flops down on the bed. You had reassured him that you knew he wouldn’t take advantage, but that’s exactly what he was doing. He saw an opportunity to touch you again and he couldn’t pass it up. You had felt and tasted just as sweet as the first time he’d touched you a few nights ago. You were the one who’d kissed him though. For a minute, he allowed himself to indulge in the thought that you had wanted it, that you had enjoyed it. That your moan had been real. The kiss had been real. The way you rolled your hips against him was because you wanted him, too.

Bucky’s hand moved of their own volition and pushed down his sweats. His cock was painfully hard and he had to relieve the pressure. Fisting himself he remembers your sweet whimpers when he had rutted against you the other night, the moans you released as the two of you kissed tonight, and he imagines his hand is you wrapped around him. He thinks of how wet you would be as he presses into you and the breathy little sounds you’d make as he bottomed out inside you. “Fuck.” Bucky whispers as he imagined your face scrunched up in ecstasy. His hand speeds up as he pictures you riding him and he bucks up into his hand. “Fuck.” he whispers one more time as he comes all over his stomach.

Part 5

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @buckyluvrs @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld @bugsbucky @chrisevanscardigan @harrysthiccthighss @palaiasaurus64 @rebekahdawkins @maaaaarveeeeel @tllynn15 @learisa @jelly-fishy-babie @fistmebuckyskywalker @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @liebs82 @honestly-dontknow @a-really-bi-girl @saiyanprincessswanie @baddie-barnes @aikeia @paleo-runaway @marvelgirl7 @starlightcrystalline @xxloki81xx @kcd15 @slytherinambitious @sallycanwait68 @slytherdorxmd @fangirlforever2412 @rainbowkisses31 @whisperlullaby @thejemersoninferno @thehumanistsdiary @supraveng @dispatchvampire @juenenfeu @sxbby-barnes @allonszassbutt @y-napotat @reallymagnificentinfluencer @is-it-madness @harold231 @buckysbaby32 @purselover23 @ene-rene @chrisevansbaby @rosesanchez12298806 @xxpapasfritasxx

Almost had me believing it: @farfromjustordinary @iheartsebastianstan @7minutes-tomidnight @thechaoticargonaut @marylimlp @buckybarnesdevotee @janaienaae @its-a-simply-me-thing @rosalynshields @oliviastan17 @onlyjamesbuchananbarnes @fangirl-swagg @wrdro @vicmc624 @lokilokilokilokilokiloki @fangirl-swagg @jonhsrevelation @ivettt @detroitobsessed @mypoisonedvine @thebuckysoldier @teenagedreams-bucky @chipilerendi @bloodyproudpotterhead @jaywolf840 @mysfitdragony564 @disasterbii @daddys-minty-princess @whatrambles @emmabarnes @pitypartycityy @srrymydood @legendarysuitstudentfan @wittyrosebushb @stuckysavedmylive @perfectlymaximumphilosopher @potatopineappleposts1 @yolandamontezistherealwildcat @irishflutiegirl @itsaliceheree @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @thatchickwiththecamera @wendyswildwonders @empath-bunny @the-lake-is-calling @thebadassbitchqueen

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