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#oh wait that's also outdated too-
arolesbianism · 6 months
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I’ve been wanting to experiment with noses more for a while, so I finally sat down and forced myself to doodle some concepts.
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dollfacefantasy · 6 months
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Hold My Calls
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pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: you teasing leon about his flip phone leads to some fun
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), fucking during a phone call, age gap, daddy kink, praise/degradation, over-stimulation
word count: 2.9k
a/n: hey everyone school is kicking my ass rn, but i am back with another one. thank you so much for the support on my last post that meant the world to me. i don't care if this is not technologically accurate or whatever just let me be delusional in peace. as always comments and reblogs are appreciated and i will give you special smooches in return <3 also thank you too my loves @tosuckmyweenis @kaitkatme @chasingkennedy @explorevenus @sleepyluxe @death-paint @petitecolibri for helping me come up with ideas for this one and/or beta reading - ily all sm :)
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When you started dating Leon Kennedy, obviously you knew there was an age gap. You figured it wasn’t a big deal. He’s only thirty-six. That isn’t that much older. And for the most part, that was true. The difference in years never seemed to play a huge part in how you loved each other. But there was one thing that reminded you of this man’s age.
He had a fucking flip phone.
Honestly, it didn’t even say much about his age. It highlighted his stubbornness. He was not incompetent. His job had him working with all kinds of shit that you didn’t even try to understand, so it’s not like he can’t work a smartphone. He just doesn’t want to.
It didn’t really matter. If anything, it was kind of cute. The way he fumbled with the buttons that were too small for his fingers. The loud chiming ringtone that he would grumble about yet never turn down. The sight of him trying to find the right distance to hold the phone away from his face so he could read the font. You had heart eyes on your first date when this man popped in a CD because he couldn’t use the aux with his flip phone. They were simple quirks, but they were just so endearing to you. You’d tease him about being outdated, and he’d put up with it cause it was you.
“Why do I need anything more? This thing can call you, and that’s all I really need,” he’d say with a teasing expression when you’d crack a joke.
You’d roll your eyes at the excessive charm, but you couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, but-”
And he’d cut you off with a kiss. “Trust me. I like it. It’s simple. Plus it’s like indestructible. But if I ever want an upgrade, you’ll be the first to know.”
The only time Leon ever considered ditching his trusty flip phone and upgrading to something more advanced was when you would send him nudes. Seeing the masterpiece that is your body reduced to a handful of pixels on the tiny screen drove him fucking wild. Upon hearing the chime of his phone and seeing the small image of you gracing his screen, he’d find a moment alone to try and see the details. He’d hold the phone two inches away from his face trying to make out every last curve. Days when he got those pictures ended with nights where you got fucked on every surface in the house.
He’d come home from work, his eyes full of lust before he even saw you. You’d glide into the room with a knowing smile on your face. You wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.
“Hi, baby. How was work?” you ask, feigning innocence. You close the distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around him.
“Oh, you care about my work now, huh?” he asks, a smirk creeping onto his face as his arms return your embrace, “Doesn’t seem like it when you send me those cute pictures during the day, distracting me, making me think about you when I should be focused.”
Your lips part and your eyebrows raise in mock offense. “I only send those to help you, motivate you,” you tease as your fingers coast along his biceps, “Maybe if you had a real phone they wouldn’t bother you so much. You’d be able to see everything clearly and not be left imagining.”
“I don’t need to stress about pictures though when I got the real thing waiting at home for me every night,” he purrs as he leans in and starts kissing you.
You return the kiss with the same level of passion, lips moving with his as the two of you stumble over to the couch. You fall back onto the cushions with Leon on top of you. His hands already roam your body and begin removing articles of clothing. He wasn’t in the mood to take his time after having that grainy image of you gnawing at his mind all day.
“Fuck, baby. Every time… I can never get enough,” he grunts as he yanks your top over your head and tosses it to the side. His hands rub up and down your sides, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your sensitive skin and making you squirm. In no time though, they’re on your breasts. He kneads the plump flesh as his lips trail down to your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of saliva-coated skin in their wake.
He’s all over you all at once it seems. It’s overwhelming in the best way. You’re moaning and writhing on the couch, nearly trying to hump his leg while one of your hands tugs at his hair. You bite your lip and whimper as his lips move down over the swell of your chest.
He grabs your hips firmly and presses them down to the couch. His half-lidded eyes look up at you momentarily. “Quit squirming,” he breathes. He gives your chest a few more kisses while keeping his eyes locked with yours. “Need time with my pretty girl after I’ve been aching for her all day.”
You give a weak nod and focus on controlling your movements as he tugs your shorts off and drops them.
“Good girl,” he mutters before attaching his lips to one of your nipples and swirling his tongue around the peak. He hums in satisfaction as he feels the bud in his mouth. His fingers lazily stroke up and down your folds over your panties. He disconnects his mouth momentarily and looks up at you again with a smirk on his face.
“So wet already?” he teases, now being his turn to look smug, “You want me just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you send those pictures right? You’re missing Daddy while he’s at work?”
“Mhm, miss you so bad. It drives me crazy,” you say. A whimper escapes you as his fingers apply more pressure and his movements more strategically target your clit.
“I can tell. Makes you act like a little slut, huh?” he asks before he kisses down your stomach to the hem of your panties.
You feel your face getting hot at his comment, but you nod anyway. You bite your lip and keep your eyes locked with his.
He chuckles at your timid confirmation. “That’s ok, honey. Daddy’s here now. I’m gonna make sure you get all the attention you need. Can’t have my girl left wanting,” he says, pulling down your panties and putting them with your other discarded clothes.
He loops his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer so that you’re angled in a way he can reach you from his position on his knees. Your back is flat on the couch, and your legs are held over his shoulders. He doesn’t waste time, licking a stripe up your cunt and then delving his tongue inside of you.
Your head falls back onto the cushion in response. A moan escapes your throat at the sensation. Your sounds only increase in frequency and volume as he grips you tighter and fucks his tongue in and out of you. He watches you, relishing how he can pleasure you with so few touches. His tongue laps up your wetness and his mouth finds your clit again, sucking and flicking against the bundle of nerves just how you like.
His name and a variety of expletives leave your mouth while your hand slides into his hair and holds the blonde locks. Your hips twitch from the rising feelings of ecstasy in your tummy, but Leon’s hands keep you firmly in place. He devours you like a starved man, the hours of torture that little picture inflicted on him all paying off right now.
He’s skillfully swirling patterns onto your clit and occasionally exploring your insides. He knows you’re close because he can feel the way you’re pulsing and hear the way your moans and whines reach that slightly higher pitch. It only makes him work with more dedication.
“That’s right, sweetheart. C’mon, give it to Daddy. Let me taste it,” he grunts as he continues working you to the edge.
You cry out, your thighs quivering and your hips bucking as you succumb to release. You’re moaning with abandon, fingers clutching his hair as tight as possible. He groans into you from the sight in front of him.
You ride the high and he continues with his mouth throughout. When you reach the seeming conclusion, your chest is heaving and your limbs feel heavy, but Leon doesn’t stop. He continues on as if you were still on the way to your climax instead of coming down.
“Too much,” you whimper as your hips jerk and your hands make a weak attempt to push his head away, “Daddy, please.”
“Daddy, please?” he mocks with a laugh, “But this is what you wanted, babydoll. You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”
You whine, hips still squirming as your retort dies in your throat. It felt euphoric, it was just so much. This was what you wanted though.
“That’s what I thought,” he says before burying his face between your thighs again.
He continues eating you out until you’re an absolute mess. Your eyes are rolling back, nonstop whimpers fall from your lips, and your twitching thighs are clamped around Leon’s head. It was what he’d been wanting to see since he’d heard that chime in his back pocket.
“I’m gonna cum,” you slur. Your head felt cloudy from the numerous orgasms he’d brought you. A strangled cry tears through you as your body moves like it’s possessed. You convulse on the couch while his mouth makes you see stars for the umpteenth time.
Tears prick at your eyes from the intensity of your release, and finally, he starts easing off of you. He pulls your thighs off of his head and leans back. He wipes his chin that’s coated in your slick and licks his fingers. Seeing that alone has you clench around nothing which in turn spreads a smirk on his face.
“Good girl, baby,” he coos, planting a kiss on your inner thigh, “You did so well. I’m proud of you.”
He stands up from his knees, grunting as he gets to his feet and taking a moment to stretch. You can tell the extended amount of time in the position put some strain on him. Your lips curl into a small smile while adoration fills your hazy eyes.
“Your joints locking up on you, old man?” you tease with a quiet laugh.
“Don’t start,” he says, trying to sound stern, but you can see him suppressing his own smile, “Especially since I know you want more.”
That shuts you up because he’s right. He shakes his head and makes a mock sound of disappointment.
“I know you, baby. My dirty girl. Made you cum how many times, and you still want more,” he says. He begins stripping off his clothes into a pile next to yours. “My little whore would never turn down a chance to take my cock.”
Once his clothes are off, he languidly strokes himself a few times and climbs on top of you. He peppers some kisses on your face and starts to slide inside you. You were more than ready but still sensitive from the recent series of highs.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl. I’ll get you full of my cum in no time. Fuck all that neediness right out,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath on you sending chills down your spine.
You mewl and tighten around him in more ways than one. Your arms cling to his torso that hovers above you while your walls squeeze around him to take him deeper. He grunts and his head falls forward a little as he feels sparks of pleasure in his abdomen.
“There you go, angel. Taking me so perfect. My pretty girl. Made for me,” he says into your ear as he sinks into you completely.
You nod mindlessly, your head fogging up again as he fills you. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he starts pumping in and out. You’re both breathing heavily and allowing the pleasure to take over. One of your hands slides to his hair to rub his head while his hips snap against you.
He’s falling into the perfect rhythm with you, one that’s driving you both toward the goal line, when suddenly you hear a muffled guitar strum coming from the floor. Leon groans and you burst into laughter as you hear the ringtone you had set for him as a joke.
His movements get weaker as his focus is drawn elsewhere, but he doesn’t stop rocking his hips. He reaches down to the floor where his phone is ringing in the pocket of his crumpled pants. He fishes it out and shifts so he’s kneeling while drilling into you.
He holds the phone up and squints to read the tiny caller ID on the flip phone which makes you laugh harder through moans. He smirks at your laughter and clamps a hand over your mouth. “Shut up, I gotta take this,” he says teasingly.
He whips open the phone, the maneuver causing you to moan and squeeze around him again. He winces at the sensation, nearly unable to restrain himself from giving into his carnal urges to groan and slam into you harder.
Your eyes widen as he brings the phone to his ear without stopping his hips and in the most monotonous voice says “Kennedy here.”
It’s good that his hand is over your mouth to keep you quiet. The contrast of his movements and that voice have the sparks of pleasure igniting into flames in your belly. Seeing how he handles his dumbass flip phone so smoothly has your arousal nearly pooling on the couch.
He listens to the call while grinning at you struggling to keep yourself somewhat under control. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sounds about right,” he drones as the person on the other end goes on and on.
His strokes are just as deep as before, nudging you in the perfect spots repeatedly. Your eyes roll back as you feel yourself getting near the peak. A soft whimper escapes you, loud enough to pierce the barrier of Leon’s hand. His hips sputter at the noise and his face contorts. He lets out a quiet grunt but quickly catches himself before losing it further.
“What? Yeah, I’m listening,” he says, his tone growing a little impatient, “Look, I’m just wrapped up in something right now. Could you not have just told me this before I left?”
You know he’s getting closer himself and struggling to hold back. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched and his eyes are projecting his rising frustration he has for the person who made this call.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, effectively ending the conversation. 
Then, to hang up, he doesn’t press a button. Instead, he flicks his wrist and shuts the flip phone with a clack.
You throw your head back against the couch cushion and a loud moan rips through your throat. You shudder as a wave of pleasure courses through you after witnessing something so unexplainably hot.
His eyebrows raise in amusement, noticing how much you enjoyed that. “Hmm, I’m not hearing any complaints about the phone now,” he says. He’s trying to tease, but his voice is husky with arousal. He maintains his grin as he drops the phone to the floor again and returns to his previous position which was closer to you.
“Careful, you’re gonna break it,” you whimper.
“Nah baby, I told you that thing is indestructible,” he breathes and starts pounding you into the couch mercilessly.
You bite your lip and resume clinging to him, your fingers digging into his back. You both are panting, expressions going lax as you focus on chasing the high.
“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you mewl, unable to contain yourself for much longer.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he says into your ear, his voice taking on more of a growl, “Daddy’s right there with you. You deserve it for being so good for me. Being nice and quiet while I was on the phone.”
As soon as you have permission, you give into another release. Your legs shake and your arms cling to him tighter as the euphoria shoots through you. You’re gasping for air and whining while squirming beneath him. Soon it’s just too much for Leon. He tightens his grip on you and slams deep before groaning and draining himself inside of you.
He rocks in and out a few more times before slowly pulling out. He then sits up on the couch and sinks back into the cushions. You follow by sitting up as well and curling up against his side. He pulls you into his lap, stroking your hair away from your face and kissing your forehead. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while until he gazes down at you with a smug look in his eyes.
“I knew the flip phone was a turn-on,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.
You scoff. “It is not. It was just… it was the situation,” you defend.
“Sure, but you were tightest when I was messing with the phone,” he says knowingly.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
He laughs at your stubbornness and gives you another kiss. “You can admit it, baby. I won’t judge. Really, if you like it that much, maybe I’ll show you how strong it can vibrate later.”
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y3nze1 · 2 months
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𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍 | c.I
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: I / II / III / IV / V / VI
𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Happy Readings!
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"You know Loralie.. i should just.. try, don't i?" you pondered to yourself, pacing back and forth as she laid there unenthusiastically, for months you've been tuning on to a particular radio station, you would find yourself stopping everything to listen to the music being blasted on there.
not on because of the music, but to also the broadcaster, he has the persuading voice, like a salesman with the large inviting smile, grabbing your interest till it's fully caught.
you fiddle through the long cord. biting your nails as you dialed up. you stare back at Loralie who's been staring at your agitated figure for the last hour.
"Oh Y/n, just type it in will ya'? don't waste the clam in that slot, just go ahead. stop bein' such a piker!" she huffed, lighting the end of her cigarette as she rolled along the couch, watching your actions.
with a gulp, your hands on the number plate, rolling in the station's number. waiting as it rang.
As the telephone sound clicked, you were through. your eyes dadted towards loralie, who's eyes widened at your sudden glimpse.
"i.. im through" loralie smiled, excitedly sitting by your side as she tuned in along. the telephone status was sort of static, either way, still hearable.
"well scoot over, and start speakin!" she muttered at you, frantically nudging your arm.
"alrighttt-" you coughed a bit, before turning your attention to the telephone in your hands, waiting patiently to hear his voice. only seconds later, you heard a muffle noise across, as if it was being picked up, and it was that then you heard his enthusiastic voice, one that makes you flutter inside.
You scoot over to make room for Loralie as she eagerly nudges your arm. You brace yourself as you hear the broadcaster's voice come over the line
. There is a static sound to his telephone, and it sounds like he's trying to tune in to pick up on you.
He must be using an older receiver model that is a bit outdated but works well enough.
Still, you can make out his voice clearly enough and it is his recognizable charm and charisma that immediately has your attention.
"You have reached Alastor Altruist! From New Orleans, Louisiana, Welcome to my Broadcast!~ and who might be on the end?" his tone bright and giddy, making you melt for a moment, slightly stuttering as you spoke back to him.
"You can call me.." you turned to Loralie for a moment, before turning back to the telephone. "you can call me Daisy" you smiled at your words, you felt you're mouth growing wider with glee.
"Well it's a pleasure to meet you... Daisy." he gives you a charming grin as he speaks, his voice still just as enchanting. He's got you reeled in, like a fish biting on the hook. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you and it's almost too easy. You feel drawn to him like a moth to the flame, you can't seem to help yourself as he sweetly speaks to you.
"Do you listen to my broadcasts often, Daisy?" he asks, his voice laced with smooth charm. You're not sure if it's all for the show, but you have an overwhelming feeling of attraction towards him. He makes you feel something you've never felt before so strongly towards a person. You feel like you could get lost in his warmth.
"well, you could say, quite often", you responded. "Really? That's wonderful to hear. I'm always grateful for listeners like you who appreciate my work." he says, his tone full of genuine appreciation as if you are a precious asset to him.
You blush slightly as a sense of euphoria washes over you. He's got his grip on you tight, and you already have this deep, irresistible attraction to this man.
"well either way, what song would you like to request for today?" you paused for a moment before speaking up again. "uhmm.. A Precious Little Thing Called Love, by Milt Shaw and His Detroiters"
"A good, simple choice!~ very classy. I'll be sure to relay the song for you, Daisy. Stay tuned~" his tone was still sweet and charismatic, he was still charming despite you giving him a simple choice. You still felt intoxicated from his presence, even though it was only through a phone call. It was as if he had a firm hold on your soul.
"This is Alastor Altruist, playing you. A Precious Little Thing Called Love, by Milt Shaw and His Detroiters" moments later, the call finished, your requested song playing on the radio, you smiled yo yourself as you tuned in, with Loralie right behind you, smirking at your sudden change of name.
"Y/n!.. are you serious dear? daisy. you are going to use daisy as a codename?! what kind of horsefeathers is that!" she let out a laugh, staring at your frame while you sat down beside her, tuning on the radio.
you didn't give a bother about her yapping, he smiled to yourself as the music blasted through the small speaker.
tapping your fingers to the beat, humming under your breath. Loralie's eyes widened at her realization. "y/n.. don't you be fibbin' on me but you seem to be, practically.. hmm, swayded.. per say?" she jumped up, wrapping her arms around you, her tone teasing. "i just think he's.. keen! yes.. keen" with that, she let out a chuckle at your response.
"Darlin, He's a radio broadcaster! ain't no way you'll be leavin' this joint if you get with him, find someone with the clams! you aren't really going to settle for less, are ya?" she paced back and forth.
huffing her cigarette, focused on you. "i just think he's ritzy.." you let out a nervous chuckle, your body laying onto the sofa. After a few minutes of silence. she sighed, throwing the old cigarette to the side before plopping down beside you as she scratched her forehead. "butt me."
you nodded at her request, grabbing a new batch of cigarettes, lighting the other end for her to easily access.
"I'm just saying.. would you rather stay in a jalopy rather than having the opportunity to hop in a swanky car! no. i don't think so." Loralie smirked, taking a huff on her cigarette. you stared down onto the hardwood floor, thinking to yourself before you muttered back.
"i don't think we should be to quick to judge.. Loralie, he's a pretty sweet man.." Loralie scoffed. "exactly. we shouldn't be quick to judge, who knows! he'd be a cannibal.. or some criminal doing god knows what activities." Loralie tone, sternly speaking up, she turned to the side to face you.
"look darlin', we've only got each other. and thank the stars we aren't stuck with just a sawbuck. we have a home and food in our stomachs everyday. so we gotta stick together darlin." her hands placed softly on your cheek as she spoke, smiling sweetly at you in which you return too.
As Loralie was out in town, You spent the rest of the day, tuning on your radio as always, prancing around the room as your ears perked uo to the swingy toons being played, you giggled to yourself, the skirt around your waist following you to your spins, flowing delicately as it fly up along with your speed and the wind.
for a moment you stopped, your eyes darted to the telephone.
you bit your bottom lip in nervousness as you approached it. you blinked for a few times, finding the right time to call, waiting for the music to finish. spending a few seconds as the melody died down. your fingers span the number plate. letting it dial. finally, it clicked. his voice as charming as always.
"You have reached me, Alastor Altruist! From New Orleans, Louisiana, Welcome dear called to the broadcast!~ good to know you're tuning in, and who might be on the end?" he tapped the surface of his desk. waiting for you to answer back. "hello! uh.. it's daisy.. again" you nervously spoke up. "Miss Daisy! coming in for another round for request, alright. how could i be of service with your request" you paused for a moment, thinking for a bit.
"Ah-.. uh.. yes, i'd request stardust by Hoagy Carmichael.. if that isn't taken already" you were still feeling slightly nervous as you spoke, almost forgetting your manners due to the overwhelming feeling of admiration towards him, even hearing his voice was enough to send a rush of adrenaline and euphoria through your veins. you couldn't seem to turn away from his charm as you leaned in to speak into the phone again. you asked, he chuckled back.
"why yes of course, stardust by Hoagy Carmichael will be on next. i expect that I'll get another song request, Miss Daisy? going three for three?" you softly chuckled at his antic, he found it amusing for a moment. patiently waiting for your voice to answer back. "of course, i have a lot more requests coming up." he smiled to himself.
The broadcaster gave you a sweet, reassuring chuckle as you spoke. You could feel his playful tone as he spoke back to you. "Well, this night is going to be a good one, I'm sure of it. I'll keep an eye out for that next song request, Miss Daisy.. i'll be waiting.." he softly called out. his tone softening, chuckling to the words you mumbled before dropping the call.
"well then, play me a song, radio man"
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callmeblaire · 4 months
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𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 | 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆
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a/n: here it is! the first chapter of one of my favorite ideas so far. I can't wait for the whole story to play out.
wc: 1.2k
warnings: mentions of abusive family, speak of virginity, touch starved reader.
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For the Night Court, it wasn’t common to have balls since Rhysand and Feyre were usually busy with their courtly duties. But they made an exception for everyone to be invited to the annual ball. 
Tailors were busier than ever and event planners even busier. Y/N wasn’t thrilled about balls when they were announced but as the date drew closer, she got more giddy. She worked day and night on her dress up until the very last minute. 
Y/N smoothed her dress over her curves as she looked out the window of her small bedroom. She had gotten off work early to get ready for the Court of Nightmares Grand Ball. Her boss at the tailor shop was better than the other ones in the Hewn City. She even taught Y/N how to design and sew her own clothes from scraps of fabric gifted by the shop. 
Ravens flew past her window as she pictured what the ball would be like. She was pulled from her thoughts when she saw her brother, Elliot appeared in the mirror in front of her. 
He grimaced and frowned at her dress, “Who are you dressing up for? It’s not like a male is going to come up to you tonight. I made sure of that last week,” he laughed. She didn’t. 
Oh, how she wanted to wipe that smirk from his face. He pushed off the doorframe, he came up beside her and looked down at her dress. It was a little long for her but it was still a beautiful gown for the evening. “Father and I know for a fact no male would approach you tonight after the very public display of me chopping that pricks hands off after touching you in the market.” 
“You didn’t have to do that. He was friendly, not aggressive. You just took it that way,” she snapped, her fists clenched at her sides. 
Elliot rolled his eyes and fixed his suit, “Males should know by now that you’re not available.” 
“Maybe I want to be. Maybe I want to find love,” she mumbled and crossed her arms as she watched him fix his hair. He scoffed and stood straight. 
“Like anyone would want to be with you, short stuff.” 
Her heart cracked at her brother’s words. She was tiny compared to other fae due to a birth defect. When she was next to her brother, she looked like an ant. She also had wide hips and large thighs. Maybe he was right to think that nobody would want her. If her family thinks that way then surely others do too. 
Y/N searched for her parents. She knew that as long as they were breathing, no male would come close to her ever. Her lungs felt like they would cave inward if she kept thinking of the possibility of never being able to experience love. Her parents always made a big deal of her getting her hymen checked every three months. 
It was a very outdated tradition among fae families. Healers would check for a hymen to ensure the purity of the female. It was used to set up arranged marriages or to showcase the purity of the family line. Y/N knew that it wasn’t because of either of those reasons truly. They wanted to make sure no males were touching her out of their possessive nature. No male was to touch her without the males in the household approval. 
Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as her parents came into view in the dining room. They looked up and her mother gasped, “Oh, my baby, you look so beautiful.” She cupped Y/N’s face in her palms and looked her over. Her father gave an indigent huff as his eyes raked over the dress. 
“Seems a bit too revealing for my liking,” he growled. 
Her mother turned and grinned at her husband, “Then it’s a good thing you’re not wearing it, isn’t it?” 
Y/N tightened her lips together to keep from laughing at her mother’s comment. Elliot came down the stairs and her mother immediately went to her baby boy to pick at his suit until she couldn’t find anything wrong with it. 
“Let’s go, we’re already late.” Her father’s voice carried and echoed throughout the house as he made his way to the front door. All of them headed toward the dark enchanted palace of the Night Court. 
~
People danced to beautiful violins and the energy was charged with a magical element that Y/N couldn’t explain. The air shifted and tugged against her as she and her mother conversed with the other ladies. 
The ballroom was spectacular, nothing like she’d ever seen before. The ceiling had constellations painted on the stone while the walls were a deep midnight blue. Chandeliers that look like stars hung high in the air which casted an ethereal glow across the room. 
Y/N was amazed at the sight. She had never seen anything quite so beautiful before. Her family never could afford such beautiful things and finally, she gets to see it all. If she didn’t find someone at the ball, it would be a wasted opportunity. 
She looked up to the dais and saw the High Lady speaking to her husband in hushed tones. When she looked to the right of the High Lord, the General and his Lady stand and talk with each other as does the Shadowsinger with his plus one. You didn’t know her name but she was beautiful. Her hair is liquid copper and her eyes a bright teal that matched the dress she wore. It reminded her of melted starlight. 
Y/N’s cheeks heated as she made eye contact with Lady Nesta. A sharp tug pulled her toward Nesta but Y/N ignored the call. Again, it strained against her chest and she had to rub her sternum for the pain to subside. 
Nesta’s eyes twinkled and she turned back to her mate, whispering something in his ear. His eyes widened and he searched the crowd until his eyes landed on Y/N’s. His hazel eyes sparkled as did his grin. Had they felt the pull too? 
Y/N shifted on her feet and tore her eyes from them. She focused her attention on her brother and the female he was dancing with. The female had long blonde hair, pale skin, and was pure perfection. He smiled at her and it was the first time he had ever smiled at another female. 
If only that smile extended to his family. Just one good moment to share between them. 
Y/N was pulled from her thoughts when a throat cleared behind her. Both Y/N and her mother turned to see Lady Nesta and the General standing there. Her eyes widened as the tug came back but it pulled her toward both the General and the Valkyrie. “General Cassian, Lady Nesta, it’s nice to finally meet you both properly,” her mother said. “My name is Geneva and this is my daughter, Y/N.” 
“It’s lovely to meet you both. Y/N, would you like to dance with me? Your brother and I have discussed your love for dance.” Nesta asked. Since when did her brother ever talk about her? He hardly ever said a nice word to her let alone about her. Lady Death must’ve seen the look of hesitation because she gave Y/N a sweet smile. 
Y/N handed her drink to her mother and said, “I would love to.”
taglist: @icey--stars @illyrian-dreamer @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @starsinyourseyes @alohaangels @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @siggysims
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astroboots · 1 year
Note
Can we just think about somno/cock warming with Steven for a quick sec? Like imagine getting sweet doe eyed Steven semi hard to sink down onto him just to sleep. Waking up to the poor man whimpering and begging for you. Lord take my soul now.
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Summary: Steven is preoccupied by a research task for Marc that keeps him away from bed with you. You decide to keep him warm until he's done in the most distracting way possible.
Word Count: 2,850
Content: somnophilia, cockwarming, overstimulation.
ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST
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It's dark in his flat, the only light is coming from the small desk lamp in the corner and the blue aquarium lighting from the fish tank that bathes everything in a shade of pale neon blue.
The rain is pitter-pattering against the large windows. There is a faint scraping sound of pages being turned every so often.
You're lying in bed, head propped up against your pillow, as you try to keep your eyes open and observe Steven where he's hunched over his desk that's filled with piles and piles of books that he's completely consumed by. He's drowning in the books. Face practically pressing up against the ink that you're convinced will leave smudges on his soft cheeks. His outdated librarian glasses are slipping down the arch of his nose.
"Steven," you murmur sleepily, asking him for the third (or is it the fourth time tonight?) to come join you in bed.
But you get the same reply you got last time. A gentle hum, followed by, "in just a minute, almost finished love."
You give it another minute, then two-- until a good half hour must have passed before you call out for him again.
"Steven."
The only response you get from his is a distracted hum. He doesn't look up.
"Come to bed," you try again, but it's a lost cause.
Ordinarily, you barely have to finish the second syllable of his name before Steven's head pops up like a meerkat, with his alert and undivided attention focused all on you.
In the rare times he didn't, you'd certainly get his attention by the time you finished the first repetition of his name.
Tonight though?
This is probably the fourth or fifth time for the evening you've asked for him.
You're… annoyed to say the least.
With a heavy sigh, you raise yourself into a sitting position in the bed.
"What is so important it can't wait until morning?"
It comes out just a tad sharper than you had meant it to.
That seems to finally snap Steven out of his trance.
He looks up from his book, turning in your direction as his eyes flicker over to you with a wide-eyed expression of surprise. Like someone's just stirred him from a spell.
"Oh! Sorry sorry," he closes the book in front of him and holds it up to you.
"Marc needed me to decode the location of some ancient map, and it's a bit more complicated than we thought. It's a bit like a treasure hunt, quite fun actually. We're trying to retrace the steps of Hargrave Marks, he's an archaeologist from the 60s, who had this detailed journal of his treks. But I also have to cross-reference it with several history books cause the accounts aren't exactly contemporaneous or accurate even for the time it was written. Hargrave had a tendency to opt for good storytelling instead of accuracy and--"
His excited ramble pewters out as you cross your arms across your chest. It's rather hostile, you realise when you see him bite his lip in worry at the sight and follow up with a much quieter: "Sorry, love.. am I being too loud? Am I keeping you up?"
There's an apologetic smile on his lip, and normally that would be enough to make any traces of irritation thaw and melt into dew. You're soft for Steven that way.
But this time, his cluelessness at the source of your irritation only serves to make you more irritated.
"No, that's hardly the issue. I want you to come to bed with me."
You can admit that you're acting spoiled.
Because you are spoiled. Used to being spoiled rotten by Steven's profuse adoration. The way he constantly showers you with his affection and full attention at all times. It's probably why it feels like something that is rightfully yours (him) has now been unfairly ripped from you by someone else (Marc), and you're not happy about it, childish and unreasonable as it may be.
And poor Steven, he looks genuinely torn, eyes flittering between you and the book pages. Hesitation etched over the line between his brows, his eyes lingering at the reflection of the TV screen for a few conspicuous seconds too long (Marc).
Whatever Marc is saying to Steven, has him sheepishly ducking his head back down towards the books.
"It might take a while longer," he murmurs, eyes not meeting yours. "Maybe half an hour? Or an hour? If you're sleepy you shouldn't stay awake for me. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I promise."
You lie back down on the mattress with a huff as you turn away from him. Trying to shut out the white noise of his pen scribbling away as the pages continue to turn.
Mad as you may be. It's cosy and warm underneath the sheets. And you had a long day at work. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep. The odds were against you. You don't know how long you are out for, but you wake to the weight of the bed shifting.
Blinking your bleary eyes open, you see Steven with one knee clambering into bed, books strewn all across the mattress, and another half dozen huddled up in his arms, and a pen tucked behind each ear.
"I'm sorry, love. This was taking longer than I thought, and I hate being away from you. I didn't mean to wake you up."
God, this sweet adorable man. All at once, guilt washes over you for having been so harsh to him earlier.
Stretching out your arms, you wrap them around his back and curl one hand around the back of his neck as you pull him down to you, relishing the small "oof" sound he makes as he plops down on top of you with a soft thud against the mattress, books landing somewhere besides you both.
"You finished?" you ask.
He shakes his head, apologetically. "Not quite yet, sorry. But I thought I could maybe do the rest in bed? That way I can at least be close to you. If you don't mind? I'll try to be very quiet."
You hum, pressing your face into the warm crook of his neck. He's so soft and warm. Comforting and steady. You draw in your breath and you're not sure if you're imagining it, but he has that familiarly pleasant smell that reminds you of a bookshop. Notes of coffee and a freshly turned page. Drawing up your lips, you mouth a small path along the line of his neck, and relish the keen little sound that he makes. A quiet little whine as his hips hitch up and press up against your legs.
"Lo-love that's-- oh god that feels--wait, I still--" he's babbling, the way he always does when your lips are on him.
You nip at the soft skin with your teeth, not enough to hurt, just with enough strength that you know will have his toes tingling as he tries to curl them against the sheets for reprieve.
"Wait," he murmurs, even though he's the one who's bearing down his weight down against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against the softness of your stomach, separated only by the comforter. "I--I need," he licks his lips, trying to find his words. Eyes glazed in a way that tells you the blood in his head has travelled south, and his capacity for speech is quickly going with it.
You hum softly, one hand travelling between your torsos as he hisses sharply at the touch of your hand when it brushes up against his clothes then underneath, your knuckles dragging against the bare skin of his soft belly. "Hmm? Need what Steven?"
Reaching for his waistband, you slip your hand into his boxers. He's already half-hard, and still rising as if to meet your fingers as you wrap them around the girth of his cock, and he gasps brokenly with a half-strangled noise.
"Tell me what you need," you remind him.
His pupils are blown wide as he swallows, Adam's apple constricting against that graceful throat. He's trying to find his words again.
"I need to finish my reading. I promised Marc."
"So finish, I'm not going to stop you."
Steven's gaze darts downwards between your body, to where your hand is still wrapped around him under his sleeping pants, with a pointed look in an unspoken accusation that you are in fact: stopping him.
His cock twitches in your grip. You can feel the slick wetness of precum leaking down from the blunt tip, trickling down your knuckles even as Steven is trying very hard not to react.
You can't help the smile that spreads on your lips as you tilt your head up, until they're brushing against his sensitive ear, letting your breath fan against the shell of it as you speak.
"Don't let me distract you, keep going, keep reading. Finish your work." You're still holding him in one hand, as the other moves to the waistband clinging to his backside and drag it down.
You let your nails gently graze along his spine, round hips and thick thighs as you do, enjoying the way he shivers defenselessly under your touch.
"Uhm, love-- you're--"
It doesn't take much encouragement or strength on your part. You grab hold of his hips as you roll him onto his back, and he lets you. No resistance on his part, as you straddle his hips, palms braced on his chest to steady yourself.
"I'm what Steven?"
The tip of his tongue, pink and glistening darts out in a nervous habit against his lower lip.
"No-nothing, nothing..." he manages. Words slurred and clumsy in his mouth as his hands grip onto your thigh as if he never wants to let you go.
It's all you can do, not to laugh. Whatever promises he had made Marc, it seems to have flown out of the cuckoo's nest.
You really should let him finish his work for Marc though, it won't do to make Mr. Grouchy even grouchier. Problem is you're not quite ready to let go of Steven or to relinquish his attention that you've finally earned from him this evening.
Dragging your hand, you let it caress the soft cotton of his shirt from his chest to his stomach then further down as you grip his cock again.
"Don't worry, let's make a compromise" you say as you stroke his cock up and down the fully hardened length as it twitches and jumps in your grip.
Steven is already nodding forcefully before he's even heard what he's agreeing to. You grip his cock angling it between your thighs and you can hear the soft gasp erupting from his mouth as the tip catches against your slick entrance.
"Keep reading, and when you finish--" you tilt your hips, sliding down in a slow and steady pace. The pleasure is sweet and heady as it skitters through your spine.
Steven's fingers grip the flesh of your thighs, trying to drag you down deeper onto his cock. But you refuse to let yourself be rushed, taking your time to prolong the sweet stretch of the thickness of his cock splitting you open as you sink down on him inch by slow, gorgeous inch, until he's buried to the hilt of you.
His eyes are on you, wild and frenzied, like you're the only thing he can see, his whole world: sky, ocean, and every atom in between are composed of you.
Leaning down, you lie flush down on his firm torso, until your breast are pressed up against his chest, you tilt your head up just enough to press a much too chaste kiss on his lips.
"Keep reading" you tell him again and he whines.
"Love, I can't--"
"Finish the work" you interrupt. "You've promised Marc and I'm not going to move an inch until you finish."
His eyes widen impossibly large at your words, as he starts to realize what he's signed himself up for. Then his bottom lip pushes forward. He's actually sulking, and god, he has no right to make pouty look so gorgeous.
Without any words, his right arm reaches out along the mattress, patting it down until he finds one of the books and brings it to his chest. He lets out a slight testy murmur, in a grouchy tone that is much more characteristic of Marc than it ever would be for Steven.
Once the book is settled in his hand and he starts to read, you nestle your face into his chest. It's the best solution to prevent yourself from bursting out into laughter when you hear Steven mumble discontentedly about how: he's never going to do Marc any more favours again.
He still smells of books and coffee, of warmth and happiness that makes you feel weightless against him. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he reads, hypnotic, like being rocked to sleep, and before you know it you drift to sleep.
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You wake to pitch blackness. A sweet syrupy pleasure that flutters somewhere deep in you, but you can't tell where it comes from, and you can't grasp it in your hold. It skitters to your stomach and down to your thighs, warm and soft that makes you clench down to chase the sensation.
A keen gasp fills the room. Too low to be your own voice.
You blink your eyes against the darkness, mind still fussy and drunk with sleep, as you shift your body and are rewarded with that sweet-honeyed pleasure swirling through your stomach, except brighter this time, sharper, and you can't help but clench down again, hoping you can catch it this time and make it stay.
The sound comes again, a sweet gorgeous gasp, except this time, it breaks off in the middle with a quiet whimper.
"Love, please..." the voice pleads with you.
It's such a pretty voice, soft-spoken and gentle, but it sounds almost pained.
Steven...
You dart up, elbow anchored against his firm and solid chest as you look down on him, the small patch of drool on his white shirt, shit...
Trying to raise yourself further, the warm pleasure drags against your insides, and you can't help the moan slipping past your lips. Thick and heavy, his cock is still inside of you jerking from the movement in protest.
You fell asleep on him.
"I finished all my work now." He says it like an announcement.
You look down until your eyes meet. They're sharp. Mouth in a firm line of concentration. Then his hands grip down on the outside of your thighs, hard enough that you think he might leave permanent dents.
Patient, sweet, polite Steven is at the end of his ropes it seems. He pushes you down flush against him until you're pressed down as far as you can take him. It's white and electric, no longer the slow and lazied pleasure you've dreamt of in your half-awake state.
"Been having a nice restful nap, you have," he says, and you don't miss the sarcastic tone in his voice even as he groans, low in his throat, while he continues to reprimand you.
"Did you know that you've been shifting and squeezing down on my cock the whole time? No, I don't imagine you did, love."
The firm weight underneath you shifts, and you barely have a second to breathe and regain your composure before Steven raises his hips, thrusting up and into you as far as he goes.
"Felt like I was going mad."
He lifts you up, hands beneath the underside of your thighs, as he drags his cock alongside you, slowly. Maddening.
It feels like payback. The sweetest lesson you've ever earned.
"Said you weren't going to move until I've finished," Steven reminds you, as he holds you still. "But I've been done for quite a while, and you've been moving quite a lot before then actually. Writhing, hot and wet around me. I can actually feel it dripping out of you."
He pulls out of you until only the fat tip is resting inside you, his hips flush back down against the mattress. One hand draws down between your legs, his thumb sliding wetly against your folds, infuriatingly slow, until he's reached your clit but doesn't press down. He holds it there, without any pressure as if he's waiting for something.
"You ready love?" he asks, holding you poised against him, his hips canting up in preparation
Steven searches for your eyes, and the look in his eyes, focused and honed, has your heart beat fast and excitedly with no logical rhythm against your ribs.
"Yes, Steven."
It's all he needs, he thrusts up as his hands pull you down on him in a devastating stroke that incinerates the air in your lungs.
You're in for a long night, and whatever shortlived sleep you managed to catch earlier won't be enough for what Steven has in mind for you two. Not when you've gotten him riled up like this.
But that's alright.
You look down at Steven, eyes glassy with a feverish sheen. All of his attention pinned on you.
It's not so bad is it? To get to have all of Steven's devoted attention for yourself like this.
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Dedication: To @thirstworldproblemss who was indispensable as always, for the brainstorming, the coming up with the hottest Steven dialogue (jesus fucking christ her lines are fucking fire) and for the beta-ing and putting up with my atrocious run-on sentence, tenuous grasp of grammar and wilful typos. I love you.
Also to the secret nonny. You don't know what your ask did to me (and TWP) we went into a horny frenzy and I couldn't sleep haunted by the horny images that were flashing behind my eyes because of your ask. I adore you! thank you for sending this in.
a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡
2K notes · View notes
gallavichthings · 3 months
Text
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It's time!
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How would you all like 21 22 fics on the 21st 22nd of December?
The Gallavich Masquerade Ball 2023 is now open! Grab a glass of champagne or anything else you'd prefer, some hors d'oeuvres, and choose your (first) dance partner for the night!
You can check all the fics in our AO3 collection or on this post, after the cut. A list of all authors with links to their profiles is also included. This post is pinned so you can check it whenever you want.
And here's the link for the form where you can put your guesses. It's only one form for all the fics, so please wait to submit your guesses only after you've read them all.
Here's the updated point system:
Points for readers: Correct guess on first choice: 5 points. Correct guess on second choice: 2 points. Incorrect guess: lose 1 point. (Please note that you only lose 1 point per story, even if you guess incorrectly on both choices.)
Points for writers: If someone correctly guesses your fic (regardless of in the first or second choice): 1 point. If someone wrongfully guesses your fic: 3 points.
Leaving kudos and comments is allowed and appreciated! Writers are also allowed to answer, but it's up to them whether to already do it or wait until everyone's identity is revealed so as not to give anything away accidentally. Oh, and if you want to post something about the fics here on Tumblr but can't tag them, I can serve as buffer for now lol.
Oh, and the surprise? The winners will get some great fanart, courtesy of the talented @doshiart! Isn't that awesome?! 🥂
Cheers!
Keep reading to get a list of all the fics with their summaries and word count, as well as a list of all the authors, with links to their AO3 profiles.
FICS:
AITA?  (2,072)
AITA? My new clients (29M and 31M) threatened me and I want to fire them. I know that’s not official therapist speak. TLDR; I want to encourage them to have healthier boundaries and find a new therapist, but until then, what do I do?
Attitude adjustment (4,483)
Post-canon Ian and Mickey figure out some relationship issues. That includes insults, (play-)fighting, more insults, and orgasms. Or: Mickey is having an attitude. Thank god Ian knows exactly what to do.
Black Charcoal meets Fiery Red (1,838)
Ian poses in a life drawing class. A straight forward job, if not for the guy with the blue eyes who can't stop staring at him.
Carnival (3,136)
Ian and Mickey spend the evening at a carnival... "Ian locked the car’s door, and put his arms around Mickey’s shoulders, as they walked towards the carnival. He had brought the leaflet home a few days ago, wiggling the colorful sketch of a carousel and the outdated font under Mickey’s nose with some hopeful glee. Mickey had protested for habit sake, but had caved in pretty easily..."
Five Dates with Brad f*cking Pitt (4,269)
Sometimes things may not be what they seem. Especially when there are assholes around who add fuel to the fire just for the sake of a fucking joke.
Groceries (2,260)
A routine trip to the store turns into a trip down memory lane.
The Guardians (4,879)
3,000 years ago, they had to join forces to defeat an evil sorcerer. Now, the sorcerer was back, and more powerful than ever. Could they defeat him for good?
i'll find a new place to be from (5,947)
They stand in silence for a couple beats, unspoken words lingering above their heads. The cig in his hand has long burned out and Ian resists the temptation to light up another, and another. He feels his mouth open, and close, then open again–but nothing comes out. Time’s up. "See you inside, Red," Mickey finally says before pushing the door open, and Ian remembers how to breathe.
Infused Attraction (3,434)
Mickey has to receive Iron infusions. Ian is a student nurse who is assisting the other nurses with the infusion. Mickey is interested in the redhead. Ian is seemingly interested in him too. Let's see how it goes!
Italy (I Trust And Love You) (3,183)
"Ian closed his eyes and ran a hand through his damp hair. He sighed and straightened his shoulders. Took a deep breath, as if to steal himself for some monumental task, and walked off down the sidewalk. The rain made quick work of drenching him. Ian didn’t seem to notice. In the dirt beneath the tree, drawn in crude blocky letters made with the toe of his boot: I + M." OR A story mostly told through Debbie's eyes during world war two, as she worries for all her brothers, but particularly the one sent home much before the rest.
Jump To Recipe (5,977)
Hiring Mickey Milkovich - Freelance Photographer to shoot the photos for his food blog was the best move Ian’s ever made. Mickey’s a fantastic shot, plus he’s committed to the success of Ian’s blog. (He’s fucking hot, too. But that’s just an added bonus.) And the best thing about him, is that in all the ways he’s professional behind the camera, he’s refreshingly unprofessional to Ian’s face. Which means when he comes around, Ian always knows he’s in for a good laugh, intriguing conversation, and an ego boost - Mickey never shy about how much he loves Ian’s food when they dig in after the shoot. Ian’s made chocolate lava cake today. But when extra time leads to their at-home appointment going way off script - Mickey wanting to update Ian’s headshots, but with a twist - who will the spicier photos leave wanting more, the “housewife army” from his blog’s comment section, or Ian and Mickey?
A Lot (4,245)
What could have happened if Ian had told Mickey that he was worried about going to Mexico with him?
The man in the van (2,141)
“Suppose I should thank you for the compliment then,” Ian teases, smirking a little. The guy snorts. “Don’t mention it, Red. I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He proceeds to shamelessly check Ian out again, licking the corner of his mouth as he does. or Ian Gallagher wouldn't mind some excitement in his life. Enter one Mickey Milkovich, ready to oblige.
ole red (5,596)
Mickey is out of prison and walking the straight and narrow with help of his cheering section, P.O. Larry . It’s hard being tough in a pastel polo and dad shorts. Old Army is just a paycheck until he meets the assistant manager, Ian. Finally he figures out Ian was Mandy’s Ian from their teen years. Mickey is attracted to the redhead but is still closeted. Ian responds to Mickey lashing out by revealing he knows Mickey’s secret. Mickey decides to be brave and the reward , huge 😈
The Reason to Exist (4,851)
lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: can you stop stealing my loot lieutenantcolonel [18:22]: this team only needs 1 sharpshooter anyway 😐 mm1234567890 [18:23]: shut up u f** lieutenantcolonel [18:23]: WHAT
Red Hot (4,364)
Ian's workday has been shitty... but his afternoon might just be very different. Thanks to his favorite nephew and a certain mouthy and opinionated stall owner at the winter farmer's market.
A Salute Before We Sink (4,601)
The world will end tomorrow. Ian's only chance at survival is to earn a spot in an underground bunker. One man stands in his way.
Snowballs and Sneaking Out (2,441)
Mickey shows up to the Gallagher House in the middle of the night with a surprise for Ian.
So drunk on you (3,878)
"Then Mickey launches himself into quite a detailed account of the previous evening and there goes Ian’s sanity. He’s learned over the months to hone his selective hearing. That is, he’s not tuning Mickey out completely but he’s trained his brain to gloss over the facts that fall under the TMI category and focus on the highlights. Again, for the sake of his sanity. Because the thing is, he’s so gone on Mickey it’s actually embarrassing. And he’s been gone pretty much from the very beginning." Just another friends-to-lovers story.
Span the Distance, Bridge the Border (4,988)
Ian and Mickey are happy, living on the West Side and adjusting to life as husbands in their new apartment. Things are going well, really well, until one day Mickey’s brothers show up. And God only knows what they could possibly want.
weight of the world (3,360)
Mickey thought he was fucked for life and that he’d never see his mom again. Turns out he was wrong about both of those things.
Wonderful- a Gallavich Christmas Mini-fic (5,030)
In which Mickey learns the reason for the season or How the Mick gained Christmas.
AUTHORS:
Blodeuwedd
Calli_Writes
Captain_Jowl
energie_vie
Gallabitch73
gallawitch
Gembu
GrandSelfMythology
IanGalagher
JuliaKay
lingy910y
MissSnowwhitepink
mmmichyyy
My_Brain_Melted
NotHereNJ
Rayrayor
sam_writes_fics
Suzy_Queue
sweet_perversion
Sweetbee78
whatthebodygraspsnot
whatyouandihave
170 notes · View notes
Note
Transfem Stevie who figures it out when she goes to a gay bar with Robin (post s3?) and meets another transwoman and has a Huh, you can do that? moment.
i sort of Went Off on this one lmaoo. bc im incapable of not steddifying everything this is now T4T Steddie 2: This Time They're Lesbians- with trans girl eddie cracking stevie's egg
PLEASE NOTE: this is set in the 80s, so they use kind of outdated terminology for trans people. also there's a d slur used in a positive, self-ID way. overall the vibes are good but the language is questionable. do with that what you will lol
When Robin asks Steve to be her ‘emotional support heterosexual’ (her words) for her first visit to an Indianapolis gay club, Steve prepares himself for a night of ‘hey, have you met my friend Robin’, pointedly not hitting on any girls, and politely declining offers of drinks and dances from guys until he’s buzzed enough to admit he’s curious. And so far, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Robin’s off dancing with a girl after Steve assured her about ten times that he’d be fine on his own. He’s just debating whether or not his inhibitions are lowered enough to go dancing when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice to his right.
“Steeeeeeeve Harrington.”
Steve turns, already cringing. Anyone who says his name with a tone like that is someone who is not going to be thrilled with seeing him in a gay club. The thing is, Steve has no idea who this person is. Can’t even really tell if they’re a guy or a girl. Their features are fairly masculine, all lean muscles and square chin, but they’ve got long, wild hair and heavy eye makeup. The cropped muscle tank with ‘Massive Dyke’ printed in lurid red muddies the waters even further.
“Oh, hey… uh…” Yeah, Steve’s pulling a complete blank. They look kind of familiar? He’s definitely seen them around. Somewhere. 
They roll their eyes. “Not surprised King Steve doesn’t recognise me. Especially looking like this. What are you doing here?”
Steve sighs a little. “I’m here with a friend. She was nervous to come alone so I’m here for moral support and wingmanning.”
“Yeah, sure,” they scoff, and Steve frowns even more.
“Look, I know I was a dick in high school. And I’m genuinely sorry if I was a dick to you. But that was four years ago. I’ve grown up, and I’m here to be a good friend. Can you let me do that?”
The person blinks, and then looks a little sheepish. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair,” they say, before extending a hand. “And it’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”
Steve smiles and shakes the offered hand. “Oh, yeah! You ran that club my kids went to- dungeons and dragons, right? Cool to see you again, dude!”
Eddie’s face does a complicated little wiggle before- “Uh, not a dude, man.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m a girl, now. Still Eddie, though, it’s just short for Edith now. Have you heard of transsexuals?”
Steve shakes his head. “I’m pretty new to this. I know, like. Five words.”
“Well, easiest way to put it is that I was born a guy, but I feel more like a girl, so now I’m, like, switching.”
“Switching…” Steve says, trying his best to look genuinely interested and confused. He generally doesn’t struggle too hard to look confused, but he’s a little worried Eddie will think he’s being a dick about it. “You can do that?”
Eddie snorts, gesturing down to herself. “Clearly.”
“Huh,” Steve says. Frankly, this is blowing his mind. “Why doesn’t everyone do that, then? Like, no one likes being a guy.”
“Ye- wait, what?”
“Like, the sexism of being a girl would suck, obviously. But everything else sounds great! Like, you get prettier clothes and you can wear makeup- and girls are so nice to other girls, I've always been kind of jealous of that.”
Eddie looks shocked, but Steve's on a roll now, almost forgetting she's there as he continues thinking aloud. “And like. Girls’ bodies are just. Better, y'know? Like what do guys have, muscles? Girls can have muscles too, but girls are just so… like, everyone wants boobs, right?”
Eddie has a strange look on her face. “I mean, I do. Because I’m transsexual.”
“When you’re transsexual, do you get boobs? Like, do you- wait, is that rude? I feel like I wouldn’t ask another girl about her boobs.”
Eddie’s silent for a moment, looking at Steve in bewilderment, before she seems to collect herself. She takes a swig of her beer and then smiles at him. It looks both welcoming and like she’s in on a secret, and puts Steve at ease. He can see why the kids were so obsessed with her in high school.
“You know what, ordinarily it would be kind of rude, but I have a feeling this conversation is… not what I thought it was gonna be,” she says, and Steve tilts his head a bit in confusion. “So yeah, I do have boobs. You can take estrogen as a little pill, and it basically does puberty for you again. You get boobs, a little extra fat on your hips and thighs, and your skin gets softer. Here, feel.”
And then Eddie takes Steve’s hand and slides it up her shirt. His brain immediately turns off. And yeah, there’s definitely a gentle swell there. They’re small, but Steve can feel the squish of them. Her nipples are pierced. Steve thinks he might die.
“Wow,” he squeaks, about five embarrassing octaves higher than his normal tone. “Cool!”
Eddie grins as she removes his hand from her tit. “Yeah, cool. I’d let you fondle them a little more, sweetheart, but they’re still growing. Kind of sore.”
Steve blushes, rubbing his hand on his thigh and desperately trying to will his boner down. “Man, I wish I could grow boobs,” he sighs, a little wistfully.
“You can, y’know,” Eddie says, with a little chuckle and a soft smile. “What’s stopping you?”
That. Steve hasn’t considered that. A hundred things come to his lips- he’s not like that, he’s not one of those- a hundred things that he knows are absolutely terrible reasons. If Robin were here she’d either be whacking him upside the head or giving him that really sad look she does whenever he’s mean to himself.
“Hey,” Eddie says, speaking softly and laying a gentle hand on Steve’s knee. It shocks him out of his spiral as he looks up into her big brown eyes. “Y’know, I’ve got some makeup in my van. If you wanted to try some things out. No one here will judge you.”
“I- yeah,” Steve is breathless. “I’d like that. Uh- my friend-”
“Oh, is she real? I’ll be honest, I kinda thought you were doing the ‘oh I’m not gay I’m just here for a friend’ thing.”
Laughing, Steve looks out over the crowd. “No, she’s real. Let me just let her know I’ll be gone for a moment- honestly she’s probably halfway to third base with some girl anyway-”
And sure enough, Robin is more than ready to let Steve wander off once he peels her off a pretty girl on the opposite side of the club. He rejoins Eddie, who leads him down the street towards her van and helps him into the back. She takes out her makeup bag, cracking jokes about their wildly different styles while she delicately brushes powder over his face. She generously refrains from threatening to take his eye out with the eyeliner pencil (more than once at least), and apologises for not having anything more ‘babygirl’ than her bright red lipstick. Steve can definitely say this is the most fun he’s ever had in the back of a van.
Finally, masterpiece done, Eddie rummages in her bag for a little compact, presenting it to Steve with a dumb little bow. Steve takes it with a roll of his eyes, and prepares himself with a deep breath.
The person in the mirror is beautiful. Glowing skin, huge doe eyes lined with smokey eyeliner and lashes a mile long, practically sinful lips. Steve almost doesn’t recognise himself, except that he does. He really, really does, in a way he now realises he never really has before. It’s the first time he’s ever looked at his face in the mirror and not wanted to change anything.
“You’re a really pretty girl, Stevie,” Eddie says with a gentle smile.
Steve can’t look away from the mirror. “Yeah,” she says, a red-lipped grin stretching across her face. “I really am.”
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cuddles-with-dragons · 2 months
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a shitload of incorrect quotes
Tech: *clicks pen* Crosshair: *clicks pen in response* Wrecker: Stop that. Tech: Stop what? Wrecker: You’re talking about me in Morse code! Tech: Yes, that’s what we doing. In our very limited time, we took a class on a very outdated, very unnecessary form of communication just so we could talk about you in front of you. Congrats, you figured us out! *later* Crosshair, to Omega: That’s actually exactly what we were doing.
Hunter: What’s something you guys are better than Crosshair at? Wrecker: Mario Kart. Omega: Yeah, all video games except first-person shooters and The Last Of Us. Tech: Emotional vulnerability.
Tech: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be? Hunter: Maybe a bit tipsy? Echo: Drunk. Wrecker: Wasted. Crosshair: Dead.
Echo, setting down a card: Ace of spades. Tech, pulling out an Uno card: +4. Crosshair, pulling out a Pokémon card: Absol, I choose you! Hunter, trembling: What are we playing?!
Wrecker: What is love? Hunter: An emotional minefield. Tech: A neurochemical reaction. Omega: Baby don't hurt me.
Crosshair: What starts with F and ends with Uck? Echo: No it doesn't. Tech: Firetruck! Omega: FUCK!
Omega: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies. Hunter: You’re too young to have enemies. Omega: You don’t even know.
Crosshair: If I die, you can have what little I own. Hunter: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die? Crosshair: My unending existence is fuelled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full. Hunter: Hunter: *Sigh* Let me call your therapist again.
Nexu: I’m not a doctor, I’m a medic. Wrecker: What’s the difference then? Nexu: Well doctors actually save lives, medics just make you feel more comfortable as you die. Crosshair: Note to self; never get shot.
Crosshair: Hand me the people opener. Hunter: ... Hunter: Pardon? Crosshair, annoyed: The people opener! Just hand it to me! Hunter, stressed: WHAT THE FUCK IS A PEOPLE OPENER? Crosshair: How do you not know what a people opener is? Its pointy- you know? With a handle? Hunter: Knife. It's called a knife.
Omega, hugging Crosshair: Do you feel any better? Crosshair: I feel much better now that you're here with me. *Hunter walks in* Crosshair: I feel half better.
Hunter: Would you rather kill Tech, or— Echo: Yes, kill them. Hunter: I didn’t say the other thing— Echo: I don’t need to hear it. Tech: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.
Benji, to cadet Crosshair: Oh my stars you are so cute and small! Crosshair: *proceeds to kick him in the shin and run away* Hunter, walking past: Rule number 1, don't call Crosshair cute or small.
Hunter: Omega is at that very special age where a kid only has one thing on their mind. Crosshair: Murder? Omega: Murder.
Hunter: How high are you? Crosshair: 6'4". Tech: No, he's asking what drugs are you on. Crosshair: Oh, antidepressants, why?
Crosshair: Hey, do you know the password to Hunter’s computer? Omega: Fuck you, Crosshair. Crosshair: Hey!! Omega: No, you misunderstood, the password is "fuckyouCrosshair". Crosshair: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.
Omega: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Echo: Wasn’t Crosshair with you? Crosshair: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.
Tech: I will find us a ride. Tech: If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone. Omega: Oh, please. We're not children. *Tech leaves* Omega, casually: ...Eat shit and die. Crosshair, also casually: Yes, fuck you.
Omega: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Crosshair: I'm a knife. Wrecker, from across the room: He's the little spoon.
Crosshair: Fun Fact! The average person will walk by 36 murderers in their lifetime. Echo: I like how this is a "fun" fact. Hunter: It's fun because they didn't decide to murder you.
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cuttoothed · 2 years
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Oh my heck I cannot BELIEVE that I only just realized that Jim’s revenge mission and Stede’s return home are mirrored plots. Like, I kept wondering why that storyline for Jim wrapped up so quickly with them leaving their revenge to return to…well, the Revenge*. It kept feeling like it resolved too quickly, like why bother to have them go off on a badass solo adventure and then almost immediately end it? But of course it makes perfect sense, they and Stede go through the exact same story beats.
They’re both confronted by a figure from their past (Nana/Chauncey) who doesn’t truly see them as they are, but rather based on an outdated idea of who that person thinks they are (“Bonifacia”/”Baby Bonnet”) and brings up painful things from their past (their family’s murder/abandoning his family) to accuse them of wrongdoing (dishonoring their family’s memory/ruining everything he touches).
In response to that pain and guilt they both fall back into familiar patterns (revenge/returning to his family), forcing themselves to go through the motions even though their hearts are clearly not in it, and it takes a frank conversation with a badass lady (Spanish Jackie/Mary) to make them realize that they need to move on from their old, unhealthy behaviors and appreciate the happiness they’ve found in their new lives with their new loves (Oluwande/Edward).
Also featuring:
both of them putting back on uncomfortable disguises (a literal beard for Jim, the pretense of being happily married for Stede)
both of their plots involving the deaths of two connected men (Siete Gallos/the Badmintons)
and both almost getting stabbed by their respective badass lady friends before they reach an accord
Of course Jim and Olu are quite a bit more emotionally mature, so Jim actually explains to Olu why they’re leaving and Olu understands and respects their decision. Hence they have a sweet, romantic reunion, while I doubt Stede will get such a warm reception from Ed right away.
Still, if the mirrored storyline continues then I predict we’re eventually in for a matching scene to Jim and Olu’s reunion, where the tension between Ed and Stede finally breaks, and we get to see the two of them just absolutely go to town on each other’s faces. I for one cannot wait.
*And god damn my dumb joke in the first paragraph just made me realize that not only is the best revenge a life lived well (as Jim figures out through talking to Jackie), but also that being on the Revenge has literally become a life lived well for her motley found family crew. God damn this show.
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suguwuus · 2 months
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Hii babe!! Omg I’ve been obsessed with your pajama pants book on wattpad for years I can’t believe I found your tumblr, ur my favourite Connor writer.
Anyway I figured I’d send an ask!! Maybe something with a daughter of Aphrodite reader? Could you do protective connor plss, I don’t rly mind the scenario whether it’s creepy guy or like in a battle or whatever.
Thanks so much!! 🩷🩷
HEYYY HII OMG thank u blushes kicks feet!!!
the damsel in distress trope is so outdated and children of aphrodite def have sparkly pink bejeweled weapons so this being set on the battlefield is crossed out of the list. also i dont like the ending but idk ??
edit: im sorry if this didnt meet your expectations of protective connor idk i feel like it's off or boring so feel free to ask for a redo or another one w this situation 😭😭😭😭 not sure if i interpreted ur req right but lmk if i did or if u have anything to say
wc: 1.7k words
contains: erm the general creep u meet while minding ur own business idfk that's literally it
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"G'morning, beautiful." Connor smiles down at you as you wake up from your rest. How many hours was that? Three? Four? A few hours as your beauty rest was better than none, so you let that worry go and sucked it up.
"Morning, Connor," you replied, your voice as sweet and smooth as ever. Your resting place today was hidden between two dumpsters behind a convenience store. At first, the idea revolted all three of you on the quest, but the events that followed that night gave you no choice, and the smell would mask your scent from any monsters. Fortunately, you had your perfume balm on you, enchanted to last for days, so smearing the stuff under your noses was a big help to battle the stench of the dumpsters.
You laid a hand on your boyfriend's shoulder. "Feeling better?" After getting into a car crash last night, his body was probably sore. He pulled a muscle in his shoulder, too. His brother Travis was knocked unconscious, so after hauling him through streets, you two had no choice but to seek shelter somewhere hidden. You only found out, when the sun rose, that you were stationed behind a convenience store. Great. Those things were like playgrounds to the sons of Hermes.
Connor stood up and stretched, testing his shoulder. "Yes! Good as new. Man, I wish mortal stores had stuff flavored with something that tastes like ambrosia."
You gazed up at him, pleased with the state he was in now. "Glad to hear," you smiled.
"Wait, they do. I love salt and vinegar chips. Oh, man, I hope Travis finds some."
You wrinkled your nose, but at the mention of food, your stomach growled. Aside from doing your best to nurse the boys back to a decent state last night, you also took first watch. That, and exhausting all your fighting skills, left you hungry.
You rummaged in your bag for a bottle of water to start your day as Connor picked up his. There you found your plastic bag of half-finished ambrosia, a flask of nectar, your first aid kit, your last change of clean clothes, your hair clip that transformed into your celestial bronze crossbow with a beaded charm around the handle, a magic blow-drier for emergencies, and—there it was.
"Travis is inside. Let's go?" Connor held out a hand and helped you up from the ground, and the two of you walked into the convenience store. You caught a glimpse of Travis, but he didn't catch sight of you back. So instead you put your water back into your bag and headed for the bathroom.
There wasn't much work to do. Just a bit of dusting off your pants and a quick wash of your face and hands to feel clean. As always, you looked perfectly put together, roughed up but in a movie star way, thanks to being a daughter of Aphrodite. It was like those scratches and stray hairs framing your face were strategically placed by a personal makeup artist.
Zipping up your jacket in a way that complimented your figure and the rest of your outfit, you nudged the bathroom door closed with your foot on the way out. Neither of the boys were inside anymore. While you scanned the aisles for them, you felt a pair of eyes on you and turned towards the counter to see a toothy man wearing a puffer vest standing in line. "You lost, sweetheart?"
You didn't like how he looked you up and down. How you felt like you were being examined under his stare. You picked it up immediately, and it made your fists tighten. You simply shook your head, then made for the exit.
Travis and Connor were munching away at breakfast sandwiches and bagels. They handed you a sandwich of your choice and a bottle of yogurt drink and you ate it without complaint, the previous occurence quickly disappearing from your mind.
"Thanks," You mumbled, and then peeked into Travis's paper bag. It had even more sandwiches and snacks inside. Quickly, he wrapped them all up and stuffed them in his bag. "Snagged some extras on my way out." He grinned, satisfied with his work.
"Still headed for the next city hall, right?" He asked.
"Mhm." You took a folded up map out of your back pocket and opened it up. "There's a bus stop right there." You nodded in the general direction of the shed, tracing a manicured finger along the map.
You had to be honest, you were only doing that to look cool. Your dyslexia slowed you down in trying to look for your current location.
You followed Travis and Connor to the waiting shed, passing the map to the former. "Let me do that, love," Connor said as you sat down and began to open your yogurt drink. He took his seat beside you and opened your drink for you, passing it back along with a kiss. The gesture made your stomach flutter. No matter how many people would throw themselves at you and try to get your attention, nothing would ever beat the way Connor made you feel with his princess treatment.
However, your mood immediately soured when the guy from inside the convenience store appeared, sitting beside you and doing a little stretch. When he was done, he turned to you and smiled.
"You're a pretty one, you know that?"
The man's voice was gravelly and he sounded like he needed a drink. You kept your eyes on whatever you could stare at on the other side of the street. "Thank you," You replied.
"You here alone?"
"No," You replied, holding back the urge to grit your teeth. You started to tap your designer boots on the concrete, impatiently awaiting the bus.
"Hm. A doll like you shouldn't be here all by yourself."
You didn't reply. Internally, you gagged and made a face and cussed him out for having the audacity.
Connor tensed up beside you; you could feel it. You huffed and checked your nails, bored. Time seemed to go exceptionally slow while you were in this situation.
When you finally forced your head to turn to see why Connor was so pissed, you saw the guy literally ogling you, a smile on his face with dark eyes that seemed to bore into every bit of you they could find.
It was disgusting. You felt disgusting. Your skin crawled.
You crossed your arms over your torso and scowled, trying to seem as unappealing as possible. Desperate times call for desperate measures, or whatever the saying was. You put a hand on Connor's knee to reassure him that you could handle it, and switched on your meanest girl voice.
"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" You shot the guy your meanest girl glare. It worked, for a second, because the smile melted off his face.
Travis came along, pulling out a pouch where he kept fake ID's and documents in case you needed them. He settled beside Connor, who had draped an arm across your shoulders, and took off his sweater.
The man glanced up at him as he passed by, relentless with his questions. "Is that your boyfriend?"
"No, this is." You moved aside to show Connor. You didn't dare break eye contact with the man, you wanted to show that you weren't afraid.
The man's frown grew deeper. "Well!" He chuckled. "Lucky guy."
Connor cleared his throat beside you. You squeezed his knee, and as curious as you were to see how he looked (because he was hot when he was pissed) you flashed the creep your fakest smile, words laced with poison.
"Your mom never told you not to talk to strangers? It's dangerous, you know." He started to force a laugh, but you cut him off, continuing. "Stop talking, because I don't have any time to waste on you, dickhead."
There was a beat of silence as he processed your words. You cracked a smile and turned back to face the opposite side of the road, satisfied with yourself. But then you heard the rustle of that stupid puffer vest.
"Hey, now, sweetheart, don't be hard. You know, if you're here on vacation, I can tell you a few good places to visit, let me tell you—"
You had just settled your eyes back on your multiple bangles and bracelets when you heard a loud smack from where the man was sitting. Connor stood between you and him and your lips parted in surprise with how quick he was. His hand was raised and the man was clutching his own, face red and showing an expression of pain. You couldn't see Connor's face, since he had his back turned to you, but you could feel how tense the hand that was on your shoulder was.
The bus finally pulled over in front of you. Travis nudged you and Connor took your hand with a stiff one. "C'mon, Y/N, let's go," he said. You eagerly stood up, keeping his hand in yours, but he didn't move. Instead, he waited for the creep to board and when he did so, he looked over his shoulder to steal one last glance at you.
You raised up your middle finger at him, but to your surprise, Connor even gave him a shove further down the aisle as the two of you followed.
Connor and Travis made sure he was seated far, far back in the bus before settling into seats with you. Connor gave you the window seat and the three of you got comfortable, though Connor was still muttering curses under his breath. You sent Travis a thumbs up gesture when he looked at the two of you.
Connor didn't relax even after the bus set off, but he did kick his bag under the seat and take your hand back in his. He planted a kiss on your temple, then your hand. "You alright?"
You nodded. "Nothing I can't handle," You assured him. "Horrible morning, but it's fine."
"Bastard was about to touch you," He muttered, lips moving against the back of your hand. "No one touches my girl if she doesn't like it."
"Mhm." You gave his hand a squeeze back, just as you always do to let him know it's okay.
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jikookiekosmos · 1 year
Text
Seneschal || jjk (Part 1)
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➥Pairing: vampire!jungkook/reader, former prince!jungkook/reader
➥Summary: Having been burned by the rest of the world, Jungkook was content to watch it go up in flames. Or, at least, he was until you gave him hope for something new. As plans are set in motion to unite your rival kingdoms, unforeseen circumstances arise. In the midst of the chaos, Jungkook is sure of one thing: he’d be damned if he let you get burned, too.
➥Genre: strangers to lovers, angst, slow burn, (eventual) fluff, (eventual) smut, royalty au, supernatural au
➥Rating: 18+
➥Words: ~6k
➥Content Warnings: a bit of angst, no smut in the first part but there is a little bit of nudity mentioned, blood and violence are mentioned, vampire lore(?), swearing, this is more of an intro chapter than anything else so there isn’t a whole lot that happens
A/N: so uh…it’s been a while, yeah? I haven’t updated any of my BTS fics on this blog in over a year due to a lot of life things (you can read here if you’re curious as to why), but I finally had a little time to sit down and dedicate to this idea I teased back in November 2021. As mentioned in the content warnings, this is more of an intro chapter so there isn’t a whole lot going on…definitely will be more happening later.
Anyways all that to say thank you to everyone who has supported/is still supporting me and my writing even during my hiatus. It means the absolute world to me 💜
(Also special shout-out to @dntaewithluv for listening to me ramble off idea about this for a literal year, I love you so much and appreciate you immensely ❤️)
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seneschal [sen-uh-shuhl] (noun) an officer having full charge of domestic arrangements, ceremonies, the administration of justice, etc., in the household of a medieval prince or dignitary; steward.
Otherwise known as Jungkook’s consolation prize when he was coerced to step down from the throne.
It had been 2 years since the…incident occurred, but Jungkook could still remember it as if it had just happened.
Which is exactly what he was reflecting on as a vial was being thrust into his vision.
He blinked rapidly a few times before staring up at the person holding the vial out for him, their face a mixture of excitement and mild impatience.
“Well? We don’t have all day. Drink up, Jeon.”
Jungkook glared.
“My apologies, please drink the potion, Mr. Jeon.”
“Jimin, you know how I feel about you and formalities-”
“It just so happens that my manners come out more as my patience grows thin.” Jimin teased. “So,” he tried once more, “drink it.”
Jungkook sighed and shook his head, knowing it was better to leave well enough alone.
“Are you sure this is safe,” Jungkook asked as he stared hesitantly at the vial filled with blue liquid just inches away from his face.
Jimin rolled his eyes before grabbing Jungkook’s hand and closing it around the vial. “Yes, for the billionth time I wouldn’t give you something I thought might harm you.” He took a step back and crossed him arms, waiting patiently for Jungkook to do something.
With a sigh Jungkook carefully brought the vial to his lips, swallowing the liquid without putting too much thought into it. The taste was bitter, but not wholly unpleasant, and a few more moments passed before either of them spoke.
“And the verdict is?” The genuine curiosity in Jimin’s voice was something Jungkook had always found to be endearing.
Jungkook chuckled. Jimin may have still been a wizard in training, but he always had Jungkook’s best interest at heart.
“How am I supposed to know if anything happened? You tell me.”
Jimin blinked before the realization set in. “Oh, right.” He stepped forward once more, peering into Jungkook’s eyes as best he could in the dim lighting of the room.
Jungkook already knew the results before Jimin could confirm them. The way his face dropped said it all.
“They’re still red. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I’m following all the rules-”
“Jimin.”
“Maybe the spellbook is outdated, you know? This is the only one I’ve ever seen anyone else use, it must be centuries old at this point-”
“Jimin,” Jungkook stated more firmly this time, clapping his hand on the other’s shoulder to keep him from pacing around more. “It’s fine.”
Jimin groaned. “But it’s not fine, what kind of a supposed ‘wizard’ am I if I can’t even do a simple eye color changing spell.”
“You’re one that’s trying and that’s what matters.”
“Yeah, but,” Jimin broke off, pout prominent on his face. “you shouldn’t have to wear contacts all the time.”
Jungkook offered a gentle smile to his downtrodden friend. “There’s lots of things I shouldn’t have to do, but I do them anyway. It’s only a slight inconvenience, not a big deal.”
Jimin didn’t seem convinced. “I don’t know why you need to wear them in the first place, does it really matter if people see-”
“Yes,” Jungkook cut him off with a tone of finality. “We’ve been over this. It’s best for everyone if they don’t figure it out.”
“So you’re honestly fine with everyone thinking you did something horrible enough to make you step down from the throne? You’re ok with letting people drag your name through the mud constantly?”
Jungkook shrugged. “It’s just better this way.”
Jungkook could swear he heard Jimin growl. “It’s not right and you know it. You’re just too set in your ways about not wanting to bring dishonor on your family. Which, by the way, not sure if you noticed but they aren’t the most honorable people.”
“Don’t.” Another statement with a stern tone. This time, Jimin obeyed.
Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, letting the dark curls fall at their own leisure. “I need to get going or I’ll be late.”
If he left now he had just enough time to stop by his room and grab his contacts he’d left behind on his way to see Jimin, as per Jimin’s request.
“I’ve got it all figured out, so you won’t even need them this time!” Jimin had promised.
Jungkook had hope that one of these days Jimin would be victorious in all of his spellcasting endeavors, and he’d be there to support him the whole way through.
Right now, however, he had bigger matters to attend to.
On his way back to his chambers he saw Seokjin, who he figured was en route to go check on Jimin, seeing as he was the appointed court wizard and Jimin was his apprentice.
Jungkook nodded at him as they passed by each other, but Seokjin calling out for him had him turning around.
“Yes?”
It was then that Jungkook could see just how tired Seokjin looked. “Lord Jeon requests your presence before your meeting with the king.”
Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Did he now? He bother to tell you what it was about?”
Seokjin shook his head, brows somewhat furrowed. Jungkook sensed that he seemed tense overall, and Jungkook didn’t like it.
“He didn’t. He just said it was important and had to be done as soon as possible.”
With a deep sigh, Jungkook relented, mumbling a thank you to Seokjin as he changed the direction he was walking. His brother’s chambers were located in a completely different wing of the castle, but he still had enough time to stop by his own room afterwards if he played his cards right.
He could hear the noises before he even approached the door, faint enough to go unnoticed by other passerby, but due to his heightened senses he had the unfortunate luck of not being able to remain oblivious. Jungkook knocked on the door despite the urge to just barge in; protocol was a big thing here and it was best for him to keep that in mind.
When he got no answer, he knocked once more before he squared his shoulders and turned the knob to open the door.
Without waiting for a greeting, he walked in, fully prepared for what he might find, seeing as it’d happened before.
Sure enough, the sight he was met with was exactly what he expected.
“Ah, so you finally came,” a snarky voice called out to him, slightly muffled. Jungkook rolled his eyes as he waited for the other party to get situated.
“What do you want, Yoongi?”
The blonde man in the bed not far from Jungkook smiled as the sheets fell around his waist. The woman next to him had even less shame, not bothering to cover her naked torso.
It wasn’t like Jungkook had never seen it before, anyway-
“Now is that anyway to address your superior?”
Jungkook gritted his teeth. “It is when my ‘superior’ is my younger brother.”
Yoongi tutted disapprovingly. “If you recall, you’re still only 24 years old-”
“Yoongi.”
“Which makes me the older brother now since I just turned 25.” he flashed a grin and the woman beside him snuggled up to his arm, still not completely covering her breasts. Jungkook looked away.
“So,” Yoongi continued, “you care to try that again?”
“I don’t, thanks. What do you want?”
Yoongi huffed, clearly unamused. “What I want is for you to tell our father what my requests are for the event we’re holding.”
This intrigued Jungkook enough to turn his sights back to his brother. “You’re not attending?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Yoongi feigned remorse. “I have more important matters to attend to.”
Jungkook watched in disgust as Yoongi grabbed a hold of the woman’s chin to turn her face so that he could kiss her. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.
“So you’re not coming then?”
“Oh he’s not, but he will be,” the woman ran her hand up Yoongi’s arm. Long, teal hair covered her shoulders, reminding Jungkook of when it was first dyed. He’d been there with her after all, so of course he’d remember it.
She giggled at her own joke while Yoongi laughed boisterously, 2 sounds Jungkook wished he’d never have to hear again.
He’d never been that lucky.
“I don’t have time for this,” was his only remark before he turned on his heel to exit the room.
Jungkook ignored Yoongi’s calls for him to come back, instead taking longer than necessary strides to put as much room between him and his brother as possible.
A low growl died in his throat as he pulled on the edge of his chain dangling from his neck. It looked like an ordinary chain necklace to the untrained eye, but it was long enough to where the end of it could fit in Jungkook’s pocket. From his neck, the rest of the chain disappeared beneath his shirt, covering the length of his chest.
It was a safety measure more than anything, something Seokjin and Jimin had helped him come up with following the ‘incident.’
⊱─────✧༺✧༻✧─────⊰
“Silver has been known to cause excruciating pain to vampires,” Seokjin had explained, “but this is a special chain, charmed with a spell that dulls that effect.”
“It doesn’t get rid of it completely?” Jimin’s confusion was evident alongside his concern for his friend.
Seokjin shook his head. “It won’t, only because that was Jungkook’s request.”
Jimin’s worried stare shifted to Jungkook, who was sitting on one of the tables in Seokjin’s chambers. His shirt was shredded, and his chest was stained scarlet: souvenirs of his most recent outing.
He went out to feed, traveling several towns over, and ended up failing miserably. Jungkook maybe got a few seconds of satisfaction before he was being ripped away from his willing victim and promptly beaten by 3 other men.
He absolutely could’ve taken them, but he was already ashamed of what he was doing in the first place. He figured that this was punishment that he had coming in one way or another.
That night when he stumbled into Seokjin’s room, bloodied and defeated, they put together a plan straight away.
Jimin asked to sit in and observe, since he was still unfamiliar with certain spells, but he missed that part of the conversation when he was fetching supplies.
“I don’t understand, why do you want the chain to still be able to cause pain?”
Jungkook sighed, wrapping part of it around his fist and noticing instantly the slight burn the metal singed his skin with. “Because the pain will hopefully be enough to stop me.”
“Stop you from doing what?”
Jungkook slowly raised his eyes to look at Jimin, a small, sorrowful smile stretched across his face.
“Something I regret.”
⊱─────✧༺✧༻✧─────⊰
The familiar sting of the chain branded the inside of his palm with invisible marks, and he kept it curled inside his hand until he was in front of his own chamber doors. He was really pushing time now, close to being late for his advisory meeting, but he’d risk a slight delay in the start of the meeting versus having to explain why his eyes were crimson colored.
Once he had his contacts fixed, he all but jogged to the large meeting room down the hall. A few guards and his father were already there, waiting on him as it seemed he was the last to show up.
“You’re late,” the king greeted, a hint of disappointment in his tone.
Jungkook was used to that by now.
“Sorry, Your Majesty, I had to run a few errands first. Shall we start?”
The king cleared his throat and nodded, holding out his hand to the guard nearest him. A scroll was placed into his large palm before he quickly unraveled it.
Jungkook watched his eyes flit across the parchment, and when he deemed it satisfactory, the king handed it back to the guard so he could pass it down to Jungkook.
“You’ll find the agenda there for tomorrow’s event. I’m entrusting you, as usual, with all the planning so you can make sure everything is taken care of.”
Jungkook hummed as he read through everything. It all looked to be in order: designated time for the other guests to arrive, instructions for what catering needed to be prepared, an outline of what was required for Yoongi’s meeting with the princess-
Jungkook read that line again. And another time. He ground his teeth together as he looked back up at the king whose eyebrow was raised as he waited.
“Well? Is something the matter? You look perturbed.”
“Father-”
“This is an official meeting, boy. No informal titles allowed.”
Jungkook’s jaw was clenched. “Your Majesty,” he tried again, “what is this last portion here about a meeting with a princess?”
“Ah yes, that.” The nonchalant answer made Jungkook’s anger rise even further. “The meeting between their princess and our prince is what will be the defining moment for the entire event.”
Jungkook had known there was some sort of event happening that was supposed to – hopefully – demolish the rivalry between the two neighboring kingdoms. There had been bad blood for far too long, and it sometimes made it difficult to retrieve supplies from other areas without conflict arising.
Jungkook had been tasked with planning everything for the guests arrival, as his job required him to do. Despite being kicked from the royal lineage, he was allowed to stay a part of the royal court and act as a steward of sorts. It wasn’t always the best, but he figured it beat being exiled from the kingdom entirely.
He worked tirelessly over the last several months to ensure that all boxes were checked for this gathering. But this new information blindsided him, and now it suddenly made sense why his father and Yoongi both seemed so cocky and sure that this would work.
“And no one thought it pertinent enough to tell me that this would be happening?”
Of all things he could’ve done in that moment, the king had the audacity to shrug. “You won’t be present for that bit of it, so we didn’t feel it was necessary to tell you.”
“Then why isn’t Yoongi here for this instead of me,” Jungkook tried to keep his tone respectful, but even he couldn’t stop some of the malice from slipping through.
“The prince” the king put heavy emphasis on the title, “is busy carrying out other affairs, so it didn’t seem important to bother him with this.”
“Yeah, affair is certainly one way to put it,” he mumbled, crossing his arms as he looked to the side.
“I beg your pardon?”
 Jungkook exhaled through his nose. “Nothing, Your Majesty.”
The king stared at Jungkook for a few more moments before he dismissed the other guards in the room.
“Gentleman, if you’d kindly take your leave for a moment – I need to have a discussion with my son. Two of you may remain posted at the door in case you’re needed.”
The guards obeyed quickly, bowing as they exited.
Jungkook scoffed. “So now I’m your ‘son?’ I’m surprised that word still exists in your vocabulary where I’m concerned.”
“Jungkook, be quiet!” The king raised his voice as a warning and slammed his fist against the table, stopping Jungkook’s jabs in their tracks.
“Regardless of your faults and any heinous acts you may have committed, you are still my son. Whether I like it or not.”
Jungkook hated how those words caused a dull ache in his chest.
“And because you are my son, that is why you are still allowed to be here in the first place. Do you ever think about how easy it would’ve been to toss you on the street like some mere commoner,” the king spat, his own outward frustration mirroring what Jungkook felt on the inside.
“You only tell me every chance you get, how could I not?”
“Watch your tone with me, boy. I am not above throwing you in the dungeon for insubordination.”
Jungkook was well aware. At this rate, he had his own personal cell with how often his father (and more so his brother) felt the need to send him there.
“Can we go back to what this ‘meeting’ is supposed to entail? Why is their princess involved?”
The king squared his shoulders and smiled. “They’ve offered a marriage proposal.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, a what?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. The king’s eldest daughter, Princess Mina, is being offered as a marriage candidate for Prince Yoongi.”
“And Yoongi agreed to this?”
The king frowned at Jungkook’s continued lack of formality before he nodded. “He’s been preparing for it for a while now.”
Jungkook clenched his fist under the table.
“Fucking unbelievable,” Jungkook muttered, a few seconds from leaving the meeting altogether in order to give the prince a piece of his mind.
“Language,” the king reminded him sternly.
“Look, fa- Your Majesty. With all due respect to you, I think this is a terrible idea.”
“Please do enlighten me as to why you feel that way.”
Jungkook sighed as he rubbed his temples. “Arranged marriages amongst royals never seem to work out well from what I’ve seen. Arranged marriages amongst anyone just seems like a poor idea.”
“Your mother and I married as part of an arrangement, and we turned out fine.”
Jungkook would beg to differ, but that was an entirely different conversation for some other time.
“I just think it’s odd that he would accept this proposal when he’s already involved with someone else.”
Finally, it was the king’s turn to look taken aback. “Whatever do you mean?”
‘He doesn’t know,’ Jungkook realized.
“Don’t worry about it, I just assumed he already had someone in mind is all.”
“Unlike you, the prince seems to be able to keep his mind off of finding love amongst the common rabble outside the castle walls.”
Jungkook winced.
“Additionally, if he did already have someone in mind, I’m sure I would’ve heard about it by now.”
“You know better than I would,” Jungkook lied. He knew that Yoongi kept many, many secrets from their parents, which is why he’d always been the favorite. They never got a glimpse of his true nature, but unfortunately for Jungkook, he got to see all of it.
“Indeed,” the king said with finality, marking the end of that conversation. “Now, back to the preparations for the event-”
“I’ll handle it,” Jungkook sounded much more deflated than when he entered the room. Animosity exhausted him.
“Good. I expect nothing less of you. I don’t expect much from you to start with, but I at least anticipate you will do your job.”
Another mindless insult. Jungkook stopped keeping count of how many times his father shamed him years ago after the scandal first broke.
If anyone asked him, he’d even go so far as to say his father’s love for him died the same day his human life ended.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, the queen and I have other matters to attend to before tomorrow.” The king got up from the table and walked off, not even bothering to see if Jungkook would also make way to leave. Before he exited through the door, he turned back one last time to look at Jungkook.
“Don’t make me regret letting you stay here. This is the most important thing the kingdom has faced since you were a child, and if you mess it up somehow, being exiled will be the least of your worries.”
Jungkook received the threat with a solemn stare, no more words spoken as he was then left alone in the large room.
On the way back to his chambers, Jungkook had a lapse in judgment. He turned and let his feet carry him to his new destination, landing three hard knocks on the door before it opened quickly.
“What?” An annoyed tone filtered through the open doorway. “Oh – it’s just you.”
Yoongi’s hair was less disheveled than it had been earlier, but it was clear he was now trying to get himself ready for later activities in the day.
“What do you want?” Yoongi crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe, not allowing Jungkook any space to enter the room.
Not that he really wanted to, anyway. He just needed to know one thing.
“Does she know?”
Yoongi blinked in confusion. “Does who know about what? You gotta be more specific, I can’t read your mind-”
“Does she know,” Jungkook interrupted, more sternly this time. “What’s happening tomorrow. Does she know?”
He had to ask. As much as he loathed her now, he still thought she deserved better than to be cheated on and discarded like she was nothing.
Even if that’s exactly what she’d done to him.
Jungkook watched as Yoongi’s eyes sparked with amusement when he finally understood. “Aeris? Yeah, she knows. She actually just left by the way; sorry you didn’t get to see her again.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed.
 “So she knows and she’s fine with it?”
“Yeah, I mean – she gets it a ‘thing’ I have to do. It’s completely transactional and I’m only doing it for the betterment of the kingdom.”
Yoongi was lying through his teeth and Jungkook wanted to wipe his smug grin off his face. His entire life Yoongi had been selfish and only looked out for himself, so this idea that he was doing it to help the people living in the kingdom?
Absolutely preposterous.
Jungkook needed a fucking break. He needed to get away, clear his head before he had to come back and deal with everything else tomorrow.
He walked off without another word, something he knew Yoongi hated – which is most of the reason why he’d done it.
“You know,” Yoongi shouted after him, “I think bitterness suits you. It’s a good look since it matches the rest of your miserable demeanor!”
Jungkook ignored him and continued walking, not stopping until he reached his favorite spot in the entire castle.
He would often come up to the highest balcony, somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts and not have the added stress of other’s opinions for a short while.
The balcony was all but abandoned as he was the only one to frequent it. The only crime he’d ever say he committed was stealing the key to the door that granted access up here. After a while, everyone else forgot about it, so he was able to keep this spot hidden. A place of his own, where he didn’t have to worry about being found.
A place of his own where his thoughts could run wild. A place of his own where his demons continued to follow him despite his best efforts.
A place of his own where he could just be alone.
After all, that’s what was best for everyone, right?
Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder, as he’d done many times before, what his life would be like now if he hadn’t been attacked. His entire life – as a prince, as an official royal family member, as a living, breathing human – was cut short in the blink of an eye. His humanity as he knew it was gone in an instant.
If it hadn’t happened, though, where would he be now? Would it be him getting ready to marry someone for political gain instead of his brother?
He shook his head as he let out a humorless chuckle. He knew he’d fight that decision with everything he had, and for he first time since it had been stripped away from him, he was relieved he wasn’t in that kind of position anymore.
The thought of sharing his life with someone he didn’t truly care about, whether it was for the greater good or not, just didn’t seem right, nor did it seem fair. Not to mention the fact that it didn’t just include him: someone’s else’s life would be affected just as much as his.
It dawned on him then that he was standing here, genuinely putting thought into how he would handle such a situation. He wasn’t some cold, heartless being. He still had the ability to care for others, and that alone gave him some sort of hope.
He looked up at the moon, admiring how the light spilled through the branches of the tree overhead.
“Maybe I still have some humanity left after all.”
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lady-in-waiting (noun) a woman of noble birth who serves a female monarch as a member of the royal household.
“Please hold still, Your Highness,” you huffed with thinly veiled frustration as you tried to lace up the corset you were currently working on.
You made a mental note to go shopping later in order to find better dresses for the princess. They still would be ones that were just as extravagant, but hopefully didn’t give you a blood pressure spike to assist with.
“Oh please, what’s with the formal treatment? It’s just us right now, you don’t have to do that, you know.”
“Yes, but,” you tugged once more, finally letting out a sigh of relief when the strings worked how you wanted them to. “With the event happening soon, it’s better for me to get back into the habit.”
Being best friends with the princess granted you some privileges that you were grateful for. When it was just the two of you, you didn’t have to uphold this extra formal, fancy attitude and instead you both got to be much more laid-back. You knew she appreciated it just as much as - if not more than - you, since she was held to a higher standard and scrutinized more heavily.
However, by the kingdom’s definition, you were first and foremost her lady-in-waiting, which ranked above any and all other duties you had in the royal court. Which, unfortunately, meant that at certain times your role took precedence over your friendship, and that was just the way it had to be.
“Ugh, I can’t wait for all this stupid royal relations stuff to be over.”
“Mina-”
She held up a hand. “Let me get it out, then you can scold.”
You waited patiently, fixing the other parts of the dress while she rambled on for the umpteenth time about her dislike for the event happening soon.
“…I mean this is a rival kingdom, we don’t even like them, so why bother. You know?”
“Mhm,” you hummed as you agreed honestly. It did seem like a stretch for your kingdom to try and force relations with one who had been a long-standing rival. The way you saw it, if after all these years and prior failed attempts had yet to work, what made the king think this would be any different?
Of course, there was now the added factor of a new bargaining chip: the king and queen were offering one of their daughters as a potential marriage candidate for the other kingdom’s prince.
Mina, being the oldest princess in line, begrudgingly accepted for the sake of the kingdom.
The plan had been set in motion months prior, but it was all finally happening tomorrow – both you and Mina were on edge, anticipating the worst but hoping for the best.
What was supposed to happen seemed simple enough: the king would accompany the princess on her visit to the other kingdom, escorted heavily by guards and with you at her side, as you always were. She would meet the prince officially for the first time, and both kings would try to strike up some sort of arrangement.
You figured this would actually be more beneficial for them, seeing as their kingdom was still recovering from a huge scandal that happened a few years ago. You remembered it vividly, taking note of how the abruptness of it all never sat right with you.
The eldest prince stepped down from his position as next in line for the throne, following some sort of act that was only described as ‘utterly disgraceful’ and never really elaborated on in the public news.
Before the news broke, the kingdom was well known for its power and influence all over the land, and the downfall from it all landed a huge blow to their standing. It aided your own kingdom in rising above them in their rivalry, but it appeared that now your own monarchs wanted to put everything behind them and unite for…whatever reason.
You tried not to get too deeply involved in the politics. Your duty was to serve Mina, and the royal family as a whole – this didn’t leave you much room to voice your own opinions.
 Mina’s soft calling of your name pulled you out of your thoughts.
“Yes?”
Any frustration you had left from the dress fiasco quickly evaporated when you saw her face. She was biting her lip, and in that moment she looked very meek, small. Very unlike the exuberant, confident young woman you knew.
“I’m scared.”
You sighed at that, pulling her into a hug that she gratefully accepted. This was this first time she had outright said it, but you could tell she was terrified from the moment she was first told about this arrangement months ago.
“I know,” you patted her back. You wanted to tell her everything would be alright, that it would all work out, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Lying to someone to provide them comfort was never something you could get behind, and you didn’t plan to start now.
“I promise you, though, that whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.” You didn’t feel bad saying that because it was the truth; you were ready to face anything when it came to Mina, and you’d do anything for her.
She was basically the most important person in your life, and you’d be damned if you let anything bad happen to her.
Well…anything short of letting her go through with a marriage to a man she’d never met.
Just as your duty to her came first, her duty to her kingdom came first. You knew it and respected it, even if you didn’t always like it.
Mina giggled, her frame shaking slightly in your hold. “It almost sounds like you’re the one I’m supposed to be marrying,” she teased.
You joined in her laughter. “I mean, I don’t think it would yield quite the same results-”
“We both know we’d be arrested before we could even say ‘I do.’” Mina joked, despite her dark attempt at humor having a level of truth to it.
“A princess marrying her lady-in-waiting?” You covered your heart and pretended to be appalled. “Imagine the scandal!”
Mina shoved you lightheartedly, her laughter echoing off the walls. She looked miles happier than she’d been a few minutes prior, and you were relieved to see it.
“C’mon, help me with my hair or we’re gonna be late.” Mina collected her hairbow from her dresser and handed it to you so you could tie up her hair in the back. When you were done, she glanced quickly in the mirror and nodded, pleased with the result.
“Is there anything else you need to do?”
You gave yourself a once-over in the mirror as well and decided that your outfit would have to do. It wasn’t bad by any means, but if you had a little more time, you probably could’ve spruced it up some more.
“All good here. After you, my Lady.” You made a grand gesture out of letting her go first, which earned you another light shove.
“Cut that out! We still have a few minutes of freedom left before we have to be formal.”
You chuckled. “You got it.”
✧───────⊱✧⊰───────✧
You accompanied Mina to her final etiquette training before the big day. Everything she learned was more of a refresher than new material, but her nervousness kept her from doing her best, which led to her being reprimanded by the queen.
“How can you expect to marry someone if you can’t play the part of a prim and proper princess?”
Mina bit her tongue, as she usually did with her mother, and you expected to get an earful from her later about the situation. To your surprise, instead of venting, she was quiet and calm upon returning to her chambers.
Before she was ready to sleep for the night, you checked in one her one last time. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
With a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she responded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
✧───────⊱✧⊰───────✧
You had never woken up more stressed out in your entire life.
All your training had culminated in this moment. You were to make sure that the princess arrived safely along with her appointed guards, and it was also up to you to make sure that everything went off without a hitch.
Such a small responsibility, right? What could possibly go wrong?
Well, for starters-
The castle you found yourself in was much larger than you anticipated, which was saying a lot considering the castle you lived in was already rather large.
Also, you weren’t the best with directions, but as long as you and Mina didn’t get separated, that shouldn’t be a problem.
And it wasn’t a problem…until it came time for her to meet the prince.
“We’re sorry, miss, but only high-ranking royal officials can be present for this meeting.” A guard held out his arm, blocking you from following Mina into the room. She frowned and tried to protest on your behalf, but her father wasn’t having any of it.
“She’ll be fine, we need to get a move on.” He grabbed a hold of her elbow and ushered her along, and you got one last look at her worried countenance before the doors closed.
Now was when the panic set in.
“I-I need water. Or just- something.” You said it aloud but didn’t really know if anyone would hear you or help you for that matter.
Thankfully, the guard who had just cut you off was kind enough to give you directions to the kitchen and dining area. You’d been there not too long ago when everyone was eating the meal that had been prepared, so surely – you thought – it wouldn’t be an issue to stop by and get a drink to calm your nerves.
That plan worked for all of about ten minutes before you re-entered the hallway from the dining room only to find nobody was around. No guards, no passerby, nothing.
It didn’t help that, from what you had seen, most hallways looked nearly identical.
You were officially lost. Alone, panicking, and lost in a castle you’d never been to before with no one in sight to help. Unsure of what else to do, since walking around aimlessly definitely did not seem like a good idea, you did what any normal person would do.
You sat down on the floor and wrapped your arms around your legs, resting your head on top of your knees.
This had to be your worst nightmare. You were separated from Mina, the one person other than yourself who you were responsible for taking care of, and you were also stuck in unfamiliar territory which was one of your biggest fears.
None of your training ever prepared you for this-
“Are you alright, miss?”
A soft voice filtered through your thoughts, making your head snap up. Your breath got caught in your throat.
There was a man kneeling down in front of you, his hand extended as he offered you a gentle smile.
Suddenly, your situation didn’t seem like such a nightmare anymore.
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A/N: thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!
permanent taglist: @inlovewiththemoonn​ @lavienjin​
fic taglist: @veronawrites @thisartemisnevermisses​ @outro-kook​ @cravingforhotchocolate​
please let me know if you want to be added or removed!
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Tickle Trap
Request: The reader is Steves younger sister. She wants to join the Avengers like her best friend peter and the rest of her family. Steve, however, is very much against it due to his overprotective nature, and the reader is still young (still in high school with spiderling). Despite having no superhuman abilities, she wants to prove herself. One day, while rummaging through old items in the Avengers compound, the reader stumples upon Natashas old (outdated) spy tech - seeing it as her golden opportunity to prove herself. Maybe if she can trick and trap her brother, he will see she is more than capable. However, as she has no real training or idea on how to use the stuff, she quickly traps herself, leaving her to her brother's (nonexistent, as bad guys don't show it in the field) mercy
Notes: Thank you so much for this request! I love the idea behind it, and I had a lot of fun writing it! Thanks for being patient for this fic, I appreciate it! I also added Natasha in there to help enhance the plot, and I hope you enjoy! Also special thanks to @thenigotthisfamily for helping me figure out the ending! ❤️
Word Count: 1820
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“How come I can’t be cool like the rest of you?” You questioned Steve, who was your older brother and the famous Captain America. Despite not having any superhuman strength or superpowers, there was nothing more you wanted than being an Avenger.
“Because, it’s too dangerous, and I don’t want you getting hurt,” he replied.
“I could say the same thing about you. How come it’s okay for you to get hurt?” You persisted.
“There’s a much lower chance of me getting hurt due to my super strength. Besides, you’re too young anyway,” Steve said.
“I’m the same age as Peter! He gets to be an Avenger,” you said unhappily.
“He’s only an Avenger because he was bitten by a spider that gave him spider senses. Otherwise he’d be too young and not fit either,” Steve said. 
You huffed in annoyance, knowing that you would find a way no matter what.
The next day, you were rummaging in the old storage room at the compound. You were looking for something easy enough to use so you could prove your skills to your older brother. You tossed a few things aside, as they looked too complicated. However, you now stumbled upon what looked like a simple contraption with a remote control. Once the button was pressed, the trap was activated, and the person would be trapped in it. Not only would you prove that you could use their equipment, you would also show that you could outsmart a superhero. Your plan was to wait in Steve’s room and hide. When he entered, you would activate the trap. However, things don’t always go as planned.
You were hiding in Steve’s room behind his dresser. You smiled to yourself, giddy to see your plan in action. However, while you were squatting there, you felt a cramp form in your foot, causing you to fall out of your squatting position and hit the button with your knee. With that, the device activated, ropes shooting out at once and quickly trapping you to the wall with your hands and arms away from your body.
“Oh no! I’m so screwed,” you said to yourself, struggling to break free. If your brother caught you getting trapped with your own trap, he would never believe you had what it takes to be an Avenger. You contemplated whether you should struggle more to escape, or call it quits and yell for help. You twisted and turned, but the trap was so tight and well done that there was no hope. You swallowed hard before shouting, “Somebody help! I’m stuck!”
“Is that Y/N?!?” You heard Steve gasp from downstairs, as you also heard Natasha telling Steve that she would come help.
You heard footsteps trampling up the stairs quickly, and before you knew it, you had to face the music. The music of embarrassment.
“Hi guys,” you said shyly, avoiding eye contact.
“Y/N, what on earth happened?” Steve and Natasha asked at the same time.
You thought about whether you should lie or not. Lying may make them forgive you faster, but you also knew you were a terrible liar. You took a deep breath before speaking.
“I uhh found this thing, and it trapped me?” You finished, making it sound more like a question than a statement.
“Where did you find my old spy gear?” Natasha asked, shocked that it was even still around and worked. You didn’t say anything, as you weren’t sure how to get out of answering that question.
“Are you okay Y/N? Like is it hurting you?” Steve asked. You shook your head no.
“Well, we’re both glad you’re okay, but I still don’t understand how any of this happened,” Natasha said, looking around the room for any clues.
“Did someone else do this to you?” It’s okay to tell us, we promise we won’t get you in trouble or anything,” Steve said, worried that someone messed with his little sister.
“No, I promise no one else was involved and didn’t hurt me,” you reassured them.
“So if no one else was involved, that means you trapped yourself? Why would you do that?” Steve asked.
“I plead the fifth,” you said, sticking your tongue out at your brother, now being silly after clearing up that you weren’t hurt or picked on by anyone.
Steve looked taken aback at first, but quickly righted himself.
“Oh so you want us to get that information out of you huh?” Steve said, walking over to you, with Natasha not too far behind.
“Wait! No! What are you gonna do to me?” You asked, suddenly feeling very exposed. You were trapped against the wall, no part of you was touching the ground. Only the wall.
“Let’s just say, we know every human’s weakness,” Steve said, grinning at Natasha.
With that, Steve reached out to tickle your sides, causing you to scream with laughter in response. 
“STEHEHEVE STAHAHAHAP THAHAHAT,” you laughed, unable to hold it in. 
“Better tell us what happened then,” he teased. He knew you were stubborn, so he targeted all your weak spots. Luckily for him, you had many of them to choose from.
You squealed with laughter as he began vibrating his fingers between your ribs, a spot that you absolutely could not stand.
“PLEHEHEASE IHIHI SWEHEHEAR IHIHIHI CAHAHANT TAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT,” you screamed.
“Oh you’ll take it. At least until you spill,” Natasha said, now bending down to tickle your feet with her ridiculously perfectly sharp nails. To make it worse, Steve was now digging into your armpits, making you wheeze with laughter.
They could tell you were getting out of breath, so they gave you a break and a chance to talk.
“Ready to talk little missy,” Natasha said, coming over to poke your tummy. You flinched and bit back a giggle.
“Not to you,” you replied, knowing it would only cause trouble. The redhead began to quickly spider her nails over your kneecaps, a spot you didn’t even know could be ticklish.
You snorted hard, shaking your head from side to side, as you wiggled your legs as much as you could to get away from the tortuous nails.
“Natahahahasha stahahahap plehehehease,” you giggled breathlessly.
“Come on, you know you want to spill,” Natasha teased.
“Okahahahay plehehehease juhuhust stahahahap,” you barely managed to get out. Natasha stopped tickling you, as they both waited for a response.
“We’re waitinggggg,” Steve said goofily. 
“Keep waiting,” you said smugly, knowing exactly how to get on your brother’s every nerve.
“You really want me to get that spot, don’t you?” Steve asked with a smirk.
“NO PLEASE! ANYWHERE BUT THEHEHEHEHERE STAHAHAHAP OHOHO MY GOHOHOSH PLEHEHEASE,” you screamed, as Steve wiggled his finger around your belly button.
“Spill, Y/N, or Natasha will go get an electric toothbrush. Your eyes widened at that, assuming it would be a thousand times worse than this already was.
“OHOHOKAHAHAY IHIHI WAS TRYIHING TOHO PROHOVE THAHAT I COULD BEHEHE AN AVEHEHENGER,” you shouted, desperate for your worst tickle spot to stop being tortured.
“Oh Y/N, I know you want to be an Avenger,” Steve said softly.
“But this could’ve been really dangerous. What was your plan to use this anyway?” Natasha asked.
“I was gonna wait for Steve to come in, and I would hide and trap him to prove that I could use the same tools a spy once did,” you said, now feeling small.
To your surprise, Natasha grinned and came over and patted you on the head.
“I have to say, that wasn’t a bad plan, and I would’ve loved to see that happen,” Natasha said with a laugh.
“Hey!! That’s mean,” Steve said, as you giggled.
“I’m sorry for putting myself into potential danger and not listening to you,” you apologized.
“It’s okay, Y/N, we just want you to be safe and away from harm. As an older brother, it’s natural for me to protect you from harm’s way,” Steve said, as you nodded.
“I still think we gotta tickle her a little more as punishment,” Natasha said cheekily.
“Right, make her sorry for all the times she’s asked to be an Avenger,” Steve said, as the two of them were formulating a plan telepathically. With that, Natasha pushed a little on your back, as the trap gave a little room for you to arch your back. “Does this tickle?” Natasha asked, slowly spidering her nails over your lower back.
“YEHEHES IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES NOW STAHAHAHAP,” you laughed, arching your back, leaving your tummy out for Steve to tickle.
You were a mess of laughter now, wanting to both arch your back and suck in your stomach. The fact that one had to be sacrificed was torture to you. You lost it when Steve went back to your belly button, along with the back tickles.
“GUHUHUYS PLEHEHEASE NOHOHO MOHOHORE ENOHOUGH,” you squealed, turning red and beginning to sweat. The two of them had mercy and pulled away, releasing you from the trap.
“Oh my gosh, you guys are the worst. Who the heck is that good at tickling,” you grumbled.
“Us apparently,” Steve said, smiling down at you. You rolled your eyes in response.
“Have you learned your lesson?” Natasha asked, as you nodded.
“Hey don’t worry kid, we all make mistakes. But, I have something in mind that might make you feel better,” Natasha said. Your ears perked up and you turned towards her.
“While you don’t have superhero powers, that doesn’t mean you can’t be a part of our team. Why don’t I make you the master tickler of the team?” Natasha said reactivating the device, this time on Steve, putting him in the exact same situation you were in.
“Natasha don’t you dare!” Steve shouted, trying to remain calm.
“Allow me to tell you exactly how to wreck the brave and strong Captain America,” the redhead said, telling you where to attack.
“You TRAITOHOHOR!” Steve laughed, as you tickled into his deep hollows. A spot that Natasha frequently targeted when they had tickle fights.
“You may be able to beat me in a fight of strength, but you can’t beat me in a tickle fight,” you teased, poking his ribs.
“Y/N STAHAHAP IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES,” Steve squealed, making you giggle. You gave his sides a good squeeze and even found a good spot around his ears and neck, thanks to Natasha’s help.
 Eventually you let him go after getting a good amount of revenge. Natasha knew she would be the next target, so she ran off faster than light. Unfortunately for her, she had left the device behind. So you and your older brother planned revenge. The best way siblings could bond. You also had a new title of Master Tickler at the compound, which many of them found ironic given how ticklish you were. But it didn’t matter, since you had an official title with the group you belonged with. The Avengers.
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forpiratereasons · 9 months
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meeting stede bonnet
a slow meandering through June. prompt eight: family
day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10
-
Stede Bonnet was having a very good morning. The sun was shining. The birds were singing. He had a great pin on today: a rose, in rainbow colours.
And he’d woken up with Ed, sleep-soft and warm and drowsy in his arms.
Hard to beat that. It didn’t even matter that Stede was running late to work. Because Ed Teach was a snuggler, and was not bothered in the least by morning breath when kisses were involved, and was really enthusiastic about the idea that a thing worth doing was a thing worth doing twice.
Yes, it was a very good morning.
“Good morning, crew!” Stede called out as he entered the bookshop. He shook a box of sorry-I’m-late pastries at the staff currently hovering around the check-out counter. “Hello, morning!”
Roach clapped Oluwande on the shoulder and said, inexplicably, “Nope. Nope, this is not for me, not today,” before he shuffled off.
Frenchie followed with an apologetic smile. “I’d love to stick around for this,” he said, “but I really don’t want to.”
Stede frowned. He looked back at Oluwande, who sighed, resignedly, and Lucius, who—“Lucius, you weren’t on the schedule today.”
“I’m not actually here,” Lucius said quickly.
“Yes, you are. I can see you.”
“That’s not really what he meant,” Oluwande said. He blew out another breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then said, in a not-at-all-convincingly casual tone, “So, Stede. Have a good—night? Last night?”
“Plan B?” Lucius whispered to him, before Stede could respond.
“Absolutely Plan B,” Oluwande confirmed, with considerable relief. Lucius patted the counter and disappeared.
“As a matter of fact,” Stede said, determined not to let his very strange staff get in the way of his very good morning, “I did have a good night.”
He paused, waiting to see if Oluwande was going to ask him to elaborate.
“Good,” Oluwande said eventually. “Good. That’s good. I had like, just a regular night. Regular, boring old night! Pizza night. Good to have a night like that some nights.”
“’Course. Sure.”
Stede waited again. There seemed to be something they were waiting for, but—
“Right, well, thanks for the pastries,” Oluwande said suddenly, just as Stede caught sight of Lucius slipping out of the back hallway, giving two thumbs up. “Oh, um, I just remembered, I left you some invoices to check. In your office. On your desk.”
Stede didn’t usually do invoicing until Monday afternoons—always the slowest days of the week—but he snagged a pain au chocolate anyway and made his way down to his office.
He picked up the first invoice in the pile, and then found what had been tucked underneath it: a book.
The Joy of Gay Sex.
Ah, Stede thought.
For a long time, that was all he thought. He kept trying to think the next thought, the one that ought to come after it, but he just kept circling around that same one. Ah. Right.
He wandered, slightly stunned, back out to the counter, where Roach, Frenchie, Lucius, and now also Jim had materialized. Even Wee John, who was not even Stede’s employee but who belonged to Frenchie in some way or another, had taken up residence in one of the shop’s armchairs. They all looked at Stede expectantly.
Stede looked at them.
They looked at Stede.
Stede said, “I’m gay.”
“Oh, thank god,” Lucius blurted. “For a minute there I thought we’d got it wrong.”
“Just a jumping off point,” Frenchie said, rubbing Lucius’ back while he caught his breath. “The book. Some of it’s a little outdated, but it’s a classic. It’s a start.”
Surprisingly, it was Jim who added, “I emailed you some websites, too. For the more updated stuff. Read it, be safe, never talk to me about any of this again.”
“It’s a bit like—being family,” Oluwande said, and everyone nodded along with him. “We watch out for one another, when we can.”
There was something thick and rough in Stede’s throat. Something hot behind his eyes. He tried several times to think of something to say, but in the end all he could muster was a small, tight, “Thank you.”
“And if you happened to get that guy’s number,” Roach said with a sharp grin, a wicked wink, as Stede flushed instantly, “his assistant is looking for him.”
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avatarmerida · 1 year
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Truth or Dare
Quick little Drabble where the Labyrinth brothers bond about how much they want Hunter to date Willow
—-
“Okay truth or dare?” Gus asked.
“Uhhh truth?” Said Hunter, knowing how creative and dangerous Gus’s dares tended to be.
“Okaaaaay,” said Gus, his face summoning a devious grin. Hunter gulped, he had also forgotten how creative and dangerous Gus’s truths tended to be. How had he roped him into playing this game again? “Hmmm, tell me something you’ve never told anyone else!”
“Uh, well I tell Flapjack everything so I don’t have anything that really falls under that category,” said Hunter with a shrug, giving the little bird a gentle pat. He was relieved the specifications took the Grimwalker secret out of the running.
“Okay then, tell me something you’ve only told Flapjack!”
Flapjack happily chirped a suggestion which made Hunter scrunch his face and turned his ears red. Gus was instantly intrigued.
“Um, I dunno about that one buddy,” said Hunter nervously. “I don’t think Gus wants to hear about that haha!”
“Yes I do! Yes I do!” Gus bounced eagerly on the couch. “Tell me what Flapjack said!”
“You keep changing the conditions of the truth and I feel like that’s not allowed...” said Hunter.
“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!”
“Okay, okay fine!” Hunter gave in with a light groan. The secret wasn’t really embarrassing, it was something more delicate than that. “When we were still in the demon realm before... a lot of stuff happened... I had decided that I was gonna ask Willow out... on a date... to go on a date... with me.”
Gus let out a gasp so loud Hunter was worried he’d wake the whole house. “You have a crush on Willow?!” The boy exclaimed with wide bright eyes.
“Did I just tell you two secrets?” Hunter asked between clenched teeth.
“Nah man, I already knew that one.” Gus assured. Hunter didn’t know how to feel about that, either Gus was very perceptive or Hunter wasn’t as aloof as he thought. “But wait, why haven’t you? We’ve been here for months, you’ve had plenty of chances.”
“I know, but I can’t until...”
“Until what? Are you waiting for the cherry blossom to come back in season so they can fall dramatically behind you as you confess your love to her?” Gus teased with a kissy face.
“...until I get approval from her dads,” Hunter finished simply even thought Gus’ suggestion had also crossed his mind. Hunter knew mentioning family back in the Isles was still a delicate subject.
“Aw dude, that’s really sweet but you don’t need their permission to ask her out.” Gus assured.
“Well, all the books I’ve read would highly disagree.” Hunter said smugly.
“You researched this?”
“Of course,” said Hunter. “I’ve never done it before so I wanna make sure I do it right. I know it’s Willow’s decision and they can’t make her say anything but they mean a lot to her and I’d feel better if they liked me before I tried to become a bigger part of her life, that’s all.”
“Hmm what if they like you and she still says no?”
Hunter face sunk. “Why would you say that?”
Gus giggled. “What if they say no? What would you do then?”
“Well, I’d ask for their honest feedback and take notes on how I can improve,” Hunter stated. “I mean, I’d imagine their standards are high. But they must be used to it by now, I’m sure Willow has had many suitors.”
“Suitors?”
“Is that not... what people call them still?”
“Not in this century dude.”
“Oh,” said Hunter quietly, furrowing his brow as he thought. “Maybe that book was a little outdated.”
“Maybe a little,” Gus chuckled in agreement. “But I think it’s sweet you care what her dads think. Willow would think it’s sweet too.”
Hunter smiled faintly at the suggestion would find anything about him sweet. “Yeah well, like I said I decided that I was gonna do it but I’m not sure how long the process would take,” said Hunter. “She’s so...” Hunter couldn’t even finish his sentence, he couldn’t pick only a few words to describe Willow. He chuckled at his own speechlessness. “I probably would’ve chickened out anyway.”
“Well, now you don’t have that option,” said Gus. “Now that I’m in on the secret, I’m gonna make sure you follow through. You already have my approval, and I think that’s a lot harder to acquire than her dads’; I’m way pickier.”
“Aw thanks,” said Hunter genuinely trying not to tear up. “That... actually means a lot to me. Heh, I guess I do tend to overcompicate things a little huh?”
“Yeah, but that’s only ‘cause you care a lot,” said Gus. “Willow deserves to be with someone who cares a lot. She also cares a lot.”
“Hmm, yeah she does,” agreed a Hunter softly, it was one of many qualities he admired in the plant witch.
“Hey, wait; what if Willow wanted to ask you out?” Gus asked.
“Oh, what? Pssh, I don’t think she’d ask me out, I mean she totally could I wouldn’t mind I mean I definitely wouldn’t say no but I mean.. uh... why? Did she... say something?”
“No, well maybe actually, but no my point is: if she wanted to ask you out and follow the same rules, who would she need to get permission from?”
“Oh,” Hunter said, understanding Gus’ point. “Hmm, well she’d have to approach my guardian which would technically be... not an option right now because he’s evil?” Hunter put his fist under he chin as he pondered.
“What about Darius?”
“I guess? I don’t think Darius would care. I mean, he would, but I think he would find it silly,” said Hunter. “Or he might try to talk her out of it to mess with me. Actually no, don’t send her to Darius; it’s too risky.”
“Right, right,” laughed Gus, loving how invested a Hunter was in the hypothetical. “What about me?”
“I’m older than you,” said Hunter with a laugh, before his face turned serious. “Why? Did she ask you for permission?”
“As if Willow would ask my permission for anything,” scoffed Gus, the very notion hilarious. She hadn’t asked for Gus’ permission no, but she had asked his advice. But Gus would save that information for later. “What about Camila? She’s a pretty good guardian.”
“Yeah,” Hunter instantly agreed. “She would be a great guardian! I would trust her to make the right call. So I- wait, why were we talking about this again?”
“No reason, just planning my next dare,” said Gus slyly. “I’ve always been a pro at locating technicalities and loopholes.”
“Gus,” said Hunter sternly, cautiously rising up from his sleeping bag. “Did Willow say something? Are you planing something? Why are you-.”
Gus jumped up, shedding his blankets as he ran full speed up the stairs. Hunter took off after him but the smaller boy was too quick.
“Camila! Camila!” Gus yelled as he nearly tripped over his own feet before saying the next part quieter in order to tease Hunter. “I need you to give Willow permission to date Hunter!”
“Gus! Shhhh!”
“Willow!” He yelled. “Do you wanna play truth or dare?!”
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shannankle · 3 months
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The Sign Episode 7 Thoughts
Showing abs is apparently necessary for good art (taking notes)
Okay but are they talking about having him paint him, make love, or kill him and make him a part of the art (they keep showing the art tools like torture tools)
That love scene was really beautiful, love the way it makes the art very visceral. The way it's framed reminds me a bit of Hannibal and the way bodies there are framed as art.
Ah so we are intentionally blurring the lines here between love making, art, and potential murder--cause the scene of him washing off the paint is pulled straight from a crime thriller. I like the contrast between the red paint and the blue lighting.
Interesting bathroom, the shot is really pretty, but logistically how do you shower without getting everything wet. The mirror is really interesting though. Practically it's a good way to make sure he gets all the paint off. But it also highlights how alone he is here, with only his own reflection to keep him company.
Yai why are you trying to stop Tharn from saving someone?
These guys are so bad at working, meanwhile Yai is telling Tharn not to get distracted from the job they're already all not doing
Oh I like the way the actor plays Mr. Montree. A lot of actors would overplay the sinister aspect to make sure the audience really gets it, but instead of any tension in his voice or body language, he comes across quite genuine and warm in his responses. We can still pick up the tension if we observe the captain and read between the lines of what he's saying. Nice!
Tharn, darling, maybe don't tip the guy off! I'm glad Yai told him that was stupid
Ah hello again Nat's abs!
Interesting that most of the guests are in black, white, or beige, but Mr. Montree is in blue and Phaya's grandma is in red. Of course those are the colors used in the painting and earlier with Art. It makes sense that Mr. Montree would stand out, but I'm curious why Phaya's grandma in particular. Will she become more important? Is she related to Mr. Montree in some way?
I'd love to know more about the artists and art they used for this episode. There's some really gorgeous pieces
Oh no a broken statue I'm getting Shadow flashbacks
Wait why would they detain Art? It was clearly an accident
Dr. Chachacha stepping up to say Art is his patient, what is this Hannibal? Dr. Chalecter over here! It's got to be an influence right? Cause I was getting similar vibes in the opening scenes too
I wonder if hysteria as a term has the same connotations as it does in Western psychiatry. Like is it still a term that's used medically? Or is it clearly outdated? If it's the later, why doesn't that raise any eyebrows? Either way it fits with his sinister role in the story and the way he riles Phaya up to cause problems and make it seem like Phaya is dangerous or hysterical. Say Art is hysterical and off his meds and you can discredit him. How much of that is Dr. Chalecter using some sort of power on people is hard to say.
Huh, even after that back and forth, I'm not quite sure what the show's perspective is here on mental illness. They aren't necessarily pushing back on the idea that it can make you dangerous, even if there's some nuance added. Though Dr. Chalecter did get in a funny burn telling Phaya: you're not mentally ill, your personality just sucks.
Okay I get that Phaya is acting like an idiot because he's scared, but my patience is a little thin. It's just not a dynamic I enjoy. I'm kind of hoping it really is Dr. Chalecter's doing.
Oooof Dr. Chalecter is over here distinguishing "normal" people vs mentally ill people. Rich and ableist! Despite the copganda the show is at least giving us evil psychiatrists.
No don't bring the charismatic psychiatrist into your police investigation! It's like the captain hasn't even seen Hannibal!
Did Kao's body get put into the art and that's why they can't find him?
Okay I guess I'm glad it wasn't portrayed as him killing out of madness or mental illness, that's a relief.
Tharn's visions are getting super convenient and helpful now. I like the touch of focusing on the clock in the flashback
Imagine being the poor cab driver. You pick up a guy with a bleeding neck and instead of going to the hospital he asks you to drop him somewhere sketchy
Why would you sit in the car to get evidence? Wouldn't that disrupt things?
These two have no chill, why are they bickering in front of everyone's salad. Also not sure why we needed a montage of the meeting.
Kitty Kitty Kitty Kitty!!!
Oh Phaya's little meow to deflect, adorable!
Huh the grandma's comments about not understanding people's motivations and everyone losing their minds are troubling. Feels in line with what the episode seems to be bringing up around mental illness. Even with Tharn's response, I'm not really sure what the show is trying to say about the topic. Kind of similar to last week's take on justice.
Kitty makes the perfect transition shot!
Interesting how the final scenes between Phaya and Tharn here mirror Art and Kao but with very different endings. Both begin in spaces where Art and Phaya make and display their art. Tharn and Kao are invited into these intimate spaces. But the couple's follow opposite trajectories--one betraying that intimacy (Kao) and the other (Thar) deciding to take a leap of faith and trust in it.
Art and Kao make love in a scene that may have just been a fantasy, but, real or not, the scene has a dream-like aesthetic that is edging into nightmare. We then learn they fought and separated.
In contrast, Phaya and Tharn talk, resonate with each other emotionally and come together. They then make love. Like, Art and Kao's love scene, there's a fantastic quality, but this one stays out of nightmare territory.
The mirrors are particularly notable. We end with mirror's capturing Phaya and Tharn together, intimate. While we began with Art in his bathroom, the mirrors highlighting how alone he is.
A final thought: It has been 4 weeks since Sand has graced our screens, now we must wait at least a week more and that is a true crime!
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porcelana-r0ta · 10 months
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The Curse of Sight, Part 4
[Part 1] [Part 3]
[Ao3 Link] (Available only to Ao3 users)
Summary: When Wes Weston meets Tim Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.
Ever since Wayne Enterprises’s TikTik went live, Wes has been upgraded from go-fer to Rebecca’s unofficial assistant. He mostly helps pin microphones or scribes for her as she dictates scripts. Sometimes he’s a runner to other departments when she’s too impatient to wait for emailed replies. She also gives him “homework” in the form of scrolling through his TikTok FYP and reporting to her on popular trends and audios so she can keep an eye on teenagers’ interests.
The only real thing he’s still doing with his original internship is his morning coffee runs, which Tim Drake will only occasionally join him on. Not always—he is the co-CEO of WE—but enough that Wes starts to relax on his “Red Robin and Batman are going to rip out my spinal cord” anxieties. His two main concerns are now just “What if Jade tries to make me go back to being a go-fer” and “What if Rebecca wants me to be in another TikTok?”
He’s still running interference with the other teenagers from Amity Park over that one. Especially with Tucker, who had only become more insufferable when he got the letter containing Tim’s signature.
“Wes,” he said into the phone when Wes had finally answered the call instead of pressing decline like he’d done six consecutive times beforehand. “Wes, buddy. I—I need to meet with Tim Drake-Wayne. This is a matter of life and death. WayneTech is only releasing one more PDA and then they’re shutting the PDA line down completely in favor of regular tablets. I can’t let that happen. Wes, please!”
“I think it’s too late for that,” Wes had replied. “Like, this is already in motion. Also, Mr. Drake-Wayne and I aren’t really friends.” He conveniently left out the part where they had known each other long enough to probably be considered friends, at least by normal civilian standards. Wes certainly considers Tim one, at least, but he’s not sure how mutual it is. “I’m just an intern who ran into him on a coffee run, and I got his signature. There’s not much more I can do for you.”
Tucker made the sound of a dying lamb, “Wes, please. I’ll do anything.”
Wes paused, tempted to say, Then admit what Danny is.
He bit his tongue and cleared his throat, “Anything?”
“Anything, man. Please!”
“Then perish.” Wes ended the call and ignored Tucker’s resulting onslaught of texts.
But that was a few days ago, and now Tucker only intermittently asks for Wes to convince Tim to save his beloved line of WayneTech PDAs. Wes wants to send a mean text about outdated technology, but he manages to hold back and continue to leave the other on unread.
Maybe it’s still mean to ghost (ha) him like that, but it’s also mean to harass Wes about the PDAs when he’s just a lowly intern. He just gets the fucking coffee.
(Nevermind the whole, you know, the friendship is real thing.)
Soon, getting coffee for the 73rd floor with Tim turns into hanging out with Tim for a few hours after their shifts. It starts slowly, with Wes mentioning off-hand that he’s going to the library, and Tim mentioning that he hasn’t been to the library in a while, so Wes invites him out. And they go to the library, check out some books, and then realize, Oh, hey, it’s a little late. Wanna head to Batburger for some food? And then they go out to eat and take turns reading the first chapter of the books they’ve chosen to each other.
And then Wes is inviting him over to his house, or Tim is inviting him out to eat, or to the movies, or whatever. No invitation to Wayne Manor, not that Wes expects one or even really wants one—a house full of Bats? No, thanks.
And Wes wasn’t kidding about the kidnapping/hostage bait, either: just last week, Dick Grayson had been held hostage in Bludhaven, not as a police officer, but as Brucie Wayne’s beloved first child. Interestingly enough, it wasn’t even Bludhaven’s own hero Nightwing who saved the day, but rather Gotham City’s Batman and Robin.
So, yeah. Not being spotted at the Manor? Tim wearing sunglasses and hoodies whenever they hang out in public? Totally fine by Wes, thank you very much.
Plus, it keeps Tucker from really blowing his phone up.  
“Hey,” starts Tim one day after being invited over to Wes’s house after work. “Do you think you and Rebecca would be willing to work at a Wayne Gala?”
They’re lazing about on the couch in the living room with Criminal Minds playing on the TV before them. They’re both under separate fuzzy throw blankets with a bowl of popcorn taking up residence on the middle cushion between them.
Wes tilts his head, considering, “What gala? And when?” And more importantly, “Will we be getting overtime for it?”
Tim snorts and shoves a fist full of popcorn into his mouth, chews, swallows, then says, “The Pride Gala toward the end of the month. The 26th. And yes, you’ll get time and a half.”
“Ah,” says Wes. He remembers how much more openly supportive of LGBTQ+ rights Bruce Wayne had become when Tim began dating some guy named Bernard Dowd from his school last year. (Not that he hadn't been supportive beforehand.) They’ve been broken up for a while, but he knows the two are still on friendly terms because the tabloids publish photos of them hanging out every once in a while and hypothesize that the flame is rekindling. “I mean, I have literally no other friends in Gotham, so I’m game. I don’t know about Rebecca, though. She probably has a life.”
“Probably?” Tim asks.
He shrugs, “I mean. She makes a lot of memes. I don’t know what your social life is like if you make as many memes as she does.” He shakes his head to himself, then asks, “I’m guessing you want something on TikTok about the Gala?”
“Yeah.” Tim shifts on the couch so he can face Wes more, and Wes turns as well. “Bruce says that some of Gotham’s elite need a reminder that he’s not a fan of their bigotry and that he doesn’t like doing business with idiots.”
Well. That sounds like the Brucie Wayne who loves his children and made a whole public spectacle of babying Dick Grayson after his rescue in Bludhaven last week.
“I’m down if Rebecca is down,” Wes says. “I don’t know about going if she can’t make it, though. I don’t think I’d do well around rich people without a poor person by my side. Eat the rich and all that—no offense.”
Tim snorts at that, “None taken. We can be kinda snobby. I hope I don’t come off too snobby?”
“Well, you haven’t asked me about my favorite place to go skiing yet, so you’re doing pretty good.”
“I haven’t even been skiing,” Tim says.
Wes thinks about how during his cyberstalking of Tim, he’d found several pictures of the Drake parents on their own skiing vacations, all suspiciously missing Tim, even though he’d have been old enough to attend according to the time stamp. His heart clenches and his body goes cold.
He wraps the blanket around him tighter, “What, no way! That’s criminal. That’s, like, the basic necessity of proving wealth. You need to have Mr. Wayne take you some time.”
Tim’s nose wrinkles in disgust, “Just call him Bruce. Hearing ‘Mr. Wayne’ from someone who isn’t a journalist or an employee is weird.”
“Tim. I am an employee.”
His friend’s ears go a smidge red, probably embarrassed to have forgotten so easily, if Wes had to guess, “You hardly count. Besides, I don’t wanna go skiing. I’d probably break all my limbs.”
Ah, right. The classic “I’m too clumsy to be a superhero” defense. The only Waynes who couldn’t use that excuse were Dick Grayson (a literal Flying Grayson) and Damian Wayne, who would probably pop a blood vessel if he was anything less than the perfect heir.
Danny was genuinely clumsy, at least. Even before he dropped all those beakers in science, he was always tripping over literal air.
“Well, you can do some other rich person activity. Like, I dunno, having a pet tiger, or something.”
“Damian would love that. He has a pet cow in a barn on the Wayne property.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I would never lie.”
“What’s its name?”
“Her name is Bat-Cow.”
….You’re fucking kidding me.
“Like… after Batman?” These people aren’t subtle. Why the fuck is Wes the only person capable of figuring anything out? Why was he cursed like this?
Or is it the other way around? Is everyone else just cursed with obliviousness, and Wes has some kind of immunity?
“Yeah, like Batman. It’s because she has a spot on her forehead that looks like a bat.”
“Of course she does.” Because why not? It’s not like anyone but Wes has eyes and brain cells, after all. Hell, the Waynes might as well dress up as their alter egos for Halloween. It’s not like anyone will fucking notice. Gotham society would probably have a grand ol' laugh about the ridiculousness of Brucie Wayne dressing up as the Bat. Ha, impossible!
“She’s the reason Damian is a vegetarian.”
“Okay, that’s adorable.”
“It’s really not. He’s a Demon Spawn.”
“That’s a rude thing to call your little brother.” Never mind that he’s called his cousin, Kyle, much worse.
“Ew, spoken like an only child.”
“Shut it. Do you guys have any other pets?”
Tim nods, “Yeah. They’re all Damian’s, though. He has a cat named Alfred the Cat, who isn’t to be confused with Alfred Pennyworth, the butler who’s honestly more like our grandpa and Bruce’s dad. Then there’s Titus, a dog. And Dick has a dog named Haley who he sometimes brings to the Manor for ‘playdates’ with Titus, but it’s really so Damian can fawn over her without feeling embarrassed over it.”
“Gross, that’s sickeningly sweet.” Wes chews some popcorn consideringly, “You know… that might be a good TikTok, too.”
“What? Meeting the pets?”
“No. Well, yes.” He thinks back to some of his mother’s rants, and then Rebecca’s own rants. “Not to make it sound like my mom just tells me everything, but she says that the public views Damian as kinda snobby. Or at least stiff. Letting him do some kind of ‘introducing the Wayne Family Pets’ TikTok might help with that. People love pets."
“Yeah, well, Damian hates cameras.” Tim’s voice is more than a little tense, and Wes doesn’t need to be told in words that he’s walking into more dangerous territory.
He shrugs, “Just an idea. If Damian is uninterested, he doesn’t have to. I just figure that using the pets—animals he loves enough to go vegetarian over—to humanize him to the press would be easier than, like, traumatizing him on Good Morning, Gotham or something.”
Wes doesn’t mention how a lot of the press and public’s view of Damian stems from racism thanks to his obviously Middle Eastern blood. He doesn’t think he needs to—Tim and the rest of the Waynes are already well aware.
“He’d traumatize them, really. But I see your point.”
Wes snorts, if only to keep up his façade, “He’s a twelve-year-old boy. What can he do?”
Tim gives an amused smile, an inside joke that he doesn’t know Wes is in on, and says, “Yeah, you're right.”
xxXxx
At work the next day, Rebecca squeals with delight when Wes asks her about going to the Pride Gala for work, and immediately starts drawing up script ideas. Halfway through Script #5, she freezes, and says, “Oh my god, I have nothing to wear to the Gala!”
Wes looks at her in confusion, “What do you mean? We’re basically going as the help. Can’t we just wear something professional?”
She sends him a withering glare, “Ugh, you’re such a teenage boy. This is a Wayne Gala! And even better, it’s the Pride Gala! All the donations go to the Trevor Project. We– we can’t just show up in sweats and a hoodie!”
“That’s… that’s not at all what I was suggesting? I said professional? Does professional mean something different in Gotham?”
Rebecca’s brow is pinched, “Listen. This is a Wayne Gala. That’s a big fuckin’ deal, you non-Gothamite. Even the press dresses up for the Galas.”
“Oh, okay.” Uncertain, Wes pulls out his phone and texts Tim about her concerns.
W: Hey Tim Rebecca says that we can’t wear prof clothes to the gala bc we’ll look too homeless. Is there, like, an actual dress code to follow?
The reply is swift for someone who is a CEO of a whole entire Fortune 500 company.
T: Don’t worry about clothes. WE will provide a fitting and the formal wear for you both to keep. I assume this means Rebecca is down?
W: Yeah. And I’ll let her know.
“Tim says that WE is gonna provide the formal wear,” he tells her while she’s in the middle of a panic attack.
“Are you texting him right now?” Rebecca asks. “Ask him when we need to be fitted. And make sure he knows we won’t be fitted outside of work hours unless we’re getting time and a half.”
Wes rolls his eyes but obligingly relays the message.
T: I am going to talk to Damian about your idea today. If he is receptive, I am thinking that you and Rebecca would clock in like normal on Friday but would accompany me to be fitted, and then go to Wayne Manor to film that “introduction to the Wayne Family Pets” TikTok.
W: Let me run that by Rebecca
He explains the idea they’d discussed yesterday about the pets, and then Tim’s proposal for Friday. Instead of verbally saying anything, Rebecca snatches his phone from him and ignores his indignant yelp, and plays an impressive game of keep-away as she types something with one hand and uses her other hand to bat away his angry attempts to reclaim his property. After a few moments of this struggle in her tiny cubicle, Rebecca lets out an “ah-ha” and hands the phone back to Wes.
He quickly takes in the damage:
W: Hi Mr. Drake-Wayne it’s Rebecca!!! I stole Wes’s phone :) I’m totally down with using company time for this and so is Wes 🙂 you’re way better than my old boss at Taco Hell btw. Also does WE buying our formal wear include buying shoes and accessories?
“This feels exploitative,” Wes says with an uncomfortable twist in his stomach.
“That’s why I took your phone instead of asking you to ask,” she says. “I get to be the bad guy, and you get to be friends with your friend without feeling like a gold-digger. Everyone wins.”
“No. I feel like trash.”
“Sorry.” And to her credit, she does look apologetic. “But I have student loans to pay off, rent, and other bills, and no heels that would go with anything WE will provide. I can’t afford this and I won’t feel bad for asking my rich boss to pay for it all as a work expense.”
On the surface, Wes understands that. He knows that he’s not poor-poor in the way that lots of people are. His mom has a job at Wayne Enterprises, for fuck’s sake, and he likely won’t have to worry about college as long as he chooses someplace sensible. But asking for so much from Tim, from his friend, leaves him feeling hollowed out and filled back up with swamp mud.
His phone lights up with a notification.
T: Hi, Rebecca. And of course! You’ll have to do your own hair and makeup, though. And I’m glad to be better than your old boss :)
Wordlessly, he shows the text to Rebecca, who nods, “Acceptable terms.”
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he says.
He walks away and hides in his mom’s office for the rest of the day.
xxXxx
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