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percervall · 1 year

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it all fades to nothing (when I look at him)

Pairing: Toto Wolff x fem!reader Words: 2787 Warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of emotional abuse, slut shaming, Google translated German A/N: @kostasstsimikass and I started talking about Toto being your +1 to a wedding, and it got a little out of hand

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When the wedding invitation came in, your first instinct was to say no. There was no way you were about to subject yourself to a public humiliation willingly. However, the longer you thought about it, the more guilt churned in your stomach. It wasn’t just anyone- not some vague acquaintance or a cousin thrice removed. It was the person you had come to see as a brother. His parents, your aunt and uncle, had been there for you and had taken you into their home when it all had gone to hell. So, suffice to say you couldn’t not go, and a phone call with your cousin made it even more clear that both him and his bride-to-be wanted you there.

Your boyfriend had smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he read the invitation over your shoulder. The man loved a wedding –loved any excuse to get dressed to the nines and, in turn, spoil you with a pretty new dress or a piece of jewellery. It’s up to you, liebling, he’d said, but I know you will never forgive yourself for not going. You hated how well he knew you. You hadn’t been together long in the grand scheme of things, although it felt like you had known him all your life.

“Does this mean I get to spoil you?” Toto asked after you had filled out the rsvp.

“Knowing who will probably be in attendance, I don’t know whether to give you full rein or tell you no,” you replied, doubt tightening itself into a knot that sat heavy in your stomach.

“You know how little I care about their opinions when it comes to you, liebling. If anything, it makes me want to spoil you more.”

You did know how little he thought of them, disgusted by the way they had treated you –they being your parents, who had practically thrown you out of their house when you switched mayors your first year in University and pursued a career in law rather than medicine like your father had wanted you to so you could eventually take over the family practice. And a small part of you, a petty part, wanted nothing more than to show up dripping in Toto’s adoration as you showed off your combined wealth. Yet the majority of you was too scared to be branded the common whore again, the way they had when you were in your teens. Rationally speaking you knew it shouldn’t matter what they thought of you, after all they had made it abundantly clear they did not love you, but even after all these years that inner child still craved their approval.

“I’ll think about it,” you eventually agreed.

After a long phone call with your aunt, and later with your grandmother, you met him halfway: you’d pay for the dress and shoes, but Toto could buy you whatever jewellery he wanted. The grin he had given you when you set the terms of the agreement was truly a tribute to his last name and made you a tiny bit nervous that he would buy you a necklace with 50 separate sapphires or something ostentatious like that. Then again, Toto had impeccable taste so why should you be worried? The only clue you gave him was a photo of the colour of your dress –a stunning burgundy that reminded you of the blood oranges you would eat every time the two of you were in Italy. On his part, Toto gave you no clues as to what he had bought you until it was the day of the wedding. Your cousin was getting married in Tuscany and had offered the both of you a room in the villa they had rented for the wedding party. You were about to get ready after having breakfast on the little balcony of your room when Toto stopped you.

“I have something for you, liebling,” he said, pulling you onto his lap as he produced two jewellery boxes.

“Toto…” you said, not finishing your sentence. You felt him smile against your skin as he kissed your cheek.

“Open it,” he murmured. Opening the largest box first, you gasped quietly when you saw the dainty gold chain with two baguette cut diamonds –one along the length of the chain and the other vertically in the centre. You had a feeling that the stones would sit on the two places along your clavicle Toto loved to shower you with kisses and love bites. His habit of marking you had almost gotten the both of you in trouble on numerous occasions before you went public with your relationship, and even after it was often met with the unmistakable giggle of Lewis and a knowing look from Valtteri.

They glittered beautifully in the sun as you let the chain run through your fingers, your head filled with memories of the two of you in various hotel beds across the world. You just knew it would compliment your dress beautifully.

“You spoil me,” you muttered, running a finger along the length of the chain.

“Mm, good,” Toto replied, sliding the second box in front of you. You threw him a glare that you only half meant, and opened the box. Inside was a gold ring with three diamonds in the same cut as the necklace. The stones were held in place by two gold bands, making it appear as if the stones were floating. It was undeniably stunning and the set had probably cost him a pretty penny.

Toto took the ring out of the box and slid it onto the middle finger of your left hand –a secret fuck you to your parents.

“Eines Tages wird das ein Ehering sein, meine Liebe,” he murmured in your ear as you both admired the way the stones caught the mid-morning light. Although your German had vastly improved ever since joining the Mercedes’ legal team back in 2021, it wasn’t enough to fully understand the words that sat heavy in your heart; even if you didn’t understand him word for word, the sentiment wasn’t lost on you. It felt like a promise, almost an oath. A year ago it would have terrified you, sent you running for the hills, but right now it filled you with so much love that you thought you could burst. You studied his face while he sipped the last of his espresso, admiring the lines framing his eyes and smile, hair still messy from where you’d tugged on it last night when it hit you square in the chest: you’d give up everything if it meant having him forever.

Untangling yourself from him and the emotions that formed a lump in your throat, you excused yourself to get ready. Toto kissed the top of your head when he passed behind you ten minutes later to get in the shower as you sat down at the vanity to do your makeup and style your hair, deciding it would be easier to pull it back in a low bun. You slipped on the dress, running your hands over the silk material as you admired the way it hugged your curves in the mirror. Toto stopped buttoning his shirt to admire you. He came to stand behind you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, schatz,” he said, leaving a final kiss behind your ear. You felt your cheeks heat up at his praise as you turned to look at him.

“Help me with the necklace, please?”

Toto happily obliged, his large hands deftly clasping the chain, kissing the top of your spine. The tiny gesture sent a shiver down you as his hands came to rest on your hips. You looked at him in your shared reflection in the mirror.

“Toto..” you warned him, but your voice was devoid of any real threat. He smirked a wolfish grin that had become his trademark over the years, but moved away from you. The look he gave you as he finished getting ready left no room for misunderstandings: at the end of the evening you were his to do with as he pleased.

The ceremony had been beautiful, the display of such unfiltered love and adoration between two people had left you feeling emotionally raw. There had been several moments throughout the years where you had felt unworthy of such love. It had taken you nearly a decade of therapy and experiencing unconditional love to realise your views on reality had been skewed because of the way your parents had treated you. Toto handing you a flute of champagne pulled you from your thoughts.

“Are you okay, schatzi?” he asked, his eyes glued to yours. He knew exactly what had happened with your parents. During those long nights dealing with the FIA back in 2021, you had spent a lot of time together going over what had happened in Bahrain and combing through the rule book. Toto was a great observer, and while at the time you detested it, he had figured you out in an instant. He had been the first man who allowed you to open up while being there every step of the way. It had been so hard to be vulnerable, the damage done throughout the years making it near impossible.

“Yes. No. I will be,” you replied, pulling him down for a brief kiss, not trusting yourself to say the words bubbling up in your throat –that you couldn’t stop thinking about tying you to him for forever. This was not the place nor the time to do so, this was supposed to be a moment to celebrate your cousin and his wife.

Toto smiled at you, eyes soft and full of his love for you, and kissed you back as he murmured an ich liebe dich against your lips. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him get pulled away by your cousins a moment later to discuss either a business opportunity of some sorts or golf, although that quickly faltered when your eyes met your mothers’.

“Here we go,” you muttered, downing your champagne in the hopes it would provide the courage and patience you would need in order to deal with her and your father.

“Mother,” you gave as a greeting when she approached you. Anxiety gripped your insides, but you steeled yourself, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she still held a shred of power over you.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter,” she all but sneered. Her face was a tight mask of pleasantries but her voice betrayed her disgust.

“Oh no, see, that's where you’re mistaken. In order for me to be the prodigal daughter I would have had to come back home with my tail between my legs; show remorse for my transgressions. And if there’s anything I’m not, it’s remorseful for prioritising my own happiness over yours.”

You could see your rebuttal took the wind out of her sails. She had anticipated you crumbling under her thinly veiled attack on your character, and had this encounter taken place three years ago or maybe even a year ago, you would have.

“Your sharp tongue was always the thing that got you in trouble. No wonder you’re alone wearing cheap clothes and fake diamonds. There’s no man who would want a woman like you,” your father commented. It was a loaded comment, not only meant to degrade your intellect but also a way of framing you the way he had done when you were a teenager: a woman owning her sensuality and her sexuality could never be anything other than a slut in his eyes.

There was no denying that his words hurt; he always knew just where to hit to knock you down. You could feel the anger simmering in your veins, trying your hardest to keep your cool and not give them the satisfaction of knowing they could still affect you. The scent of Toto’s cologne, the brush of cotton against your exposed back and the warmth of his hand on your hip as he came standing behind you was enough to ground you. Even if he was behind you, his presence felt like a shield against their vitriol. Of course his height helped in that sense; even in your heels, you just about reached his shoulder.

“Everything alright, liebling?” Toto asked quietly, giving your hip a squeeze. You rested your hand on top of his, giving a squeeze in return as an answer and straightened up, rolling your shoulders back. You saw recognition flicker across their faces when it dawned on them who he was and what he was to you.

“My sharp tongue landed me my dream job as in-house counsel at Mercedes AMG Petronas F1, it got me a boyfriend who looks at me as if I am made to be worshipped. I don’t think he’d take kindly to the accusation that he buys me fake diamonds,” you said, your voice even and ice cold. It was the voice you usually reserved for dealing with stupid men in legal battles. Toto chuckled behind you, breaking the tension in your body. You were sure your parents were about to protest, make up excuses as to why you didn’t deserve any of the accolades behind your name, how dating a man twenty years your senior was more evidence for this. You didn’t want to hear it, no longer cared for what they thought of you. You had never been good enough for them, there was always something that displeased them; if it weren’t your grades, it was the way you dressed, how you flirted with a waiter, that you ate too much or too little. Something clicked inside your brain, a final piece of the puzzle that you had been looking for all those years: You were done trying to appease them, realising you never would get their approval –realising you didn’t want their approval, not anymore. The only person whose opinion mattered loved you unconditionally despite all your flaws and frayed edges, he could read you like an open book and knew just what you needed without you having to say the words out loud.

“If you’ll excuse us,” you interrupted your father’s spluttering, turning around to face Toto who just smirked at you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Both his hands rested on your lower back now as he leant down to kiss you. It was both so tender and so filthy and full of promise for later that it left you light-headed.

“Wanna get out of here, schatzi?” he murmured. You nodded and let him lead you outside, leaving your parents seething behind you.

Outside, you took deep, gulping breaths, tears burning behind closed eyes. They weren’t tears of sadness or grief, but you felt… Relief. Even though it hurt to have to hear those words, you were relieved you could finally stand up to them. You could feel the last rays of sunlight on your face as the sun slipped lower behind the rolling hills of the Tuscan landscape, painting the sky with hues of lavender and peachy pinks. It mirrored the way Toto’s words and actions warmed your soul.

“You did so good, am so proud of you my love,” Toto said softly, hugging your back to his front as he shielded you from prying eyes inside the ballroom. He kept whispering his praise and love for you, the words washing over you like a balm for your still healing heart.

“I love you so much, liebling,” he said, brushing a finger against your cheek as you turned to look at him. His expression was so open, so full of adoration, it squeezed your heart seeing him this way and cemented the feeling that he was the one you wanted to spend forever with.

“I know it’s unbecoming to discuss this at someone else’s wedding, and maybe this is all the emotions of today speaking,” you started after a moment of silence, “but I can’t imagine life without you. If-.. If you were to ask, I’d say yes,” you all but whispered. Toto didn’t reply to your admission, not with words at least. He tilted your face up, brushing his lips against yours as he whispered i love yous in between kisses. That was all the reassurance you needed that he felt the same way about you. A tiny voice in the back of your mind whispered that it probably wouldn’t be long before he’d give you a new piece of jewellery to symbolise just how much, to serve as a permanent reminder of his love for you, to make you his and him yours.

This fic was meant to be a Toto supporting his girlfriend as she deals with her shitty parents, but it somehow ended up being strangely cathartic? (this is still a work of fiction, don't worry about me) It got a little out of hand and I am not entirely sure of the flow of this fic, but I also know I need to set it free because I could nitpick this thing apart for all of eternity. Please let me know what you think, your comments truly feed the fanfic goblins in my brain For anyone else who recognises themselves in this fic, I am sorry you had to deal with that, know that you are loved and worthy and good enough 😘

click here for more of my work

#f1 fanfic #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff oneshot #did I throw every single essay word I remembered from my uni days into this fic? ...maybe #what good is a language degree if you can't use it?

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biggestxsimps · 1 year

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I Forgive You

Draco Malfoy x Male Reader (Part 2)

A/N: I haven't watched Harry Potter in a while, like I said in Part 1 of this, I’m not aware of everything in the HP universe so let me know if I’ve messed something up and I’ll try to fix it. I haven't written in first-person POV in a while so I hope it’s alright 😭

Part 1: I’m Sorry

Y/N’s POV:

The last couple of months felt like something out of a nightmare, never in a hundred years did I think Death-Eaters would storm into our school. Though I was in danger, I couldn’t help but watch as Draco stood on their side, I still think about it now. How he looked so terrified, so worried as Hagrid brought Harry’s limp body to the crowd. I shake my head. I can’t continue to overthink that evening, I’m in safe hands now, I just hope Draco is too.

I walk into the kitchen, deciding to finally grab something to eat. My eyes fall on the leftovers from last night’s dinner. As I grab the container, I hear a ‘swoosh’ as an envelope falls beside me on the counter. The food now left my mind as I reached for the envelope, something about it seemed familiar. I slowly pull the letter out, quickly scanning the writing, I feel my heart sink at the realization. Why would he be writing to me? I prepared myself before properly reading the words.

Y/N L/N,

I’m aware that I’m, no doubt, the last person you would’ve wished this letter was from, but I urgently need to speak to you.

I don’t wish for your forgiveness; just for you to let me explain everything to you. I feel terrible for leaving you with no reason.

I’ll be at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow evening, if you feel comfortable, please come and see me.

Draco Malfoy.

I felt my heart skip a few beats, no matter the pain that boy had put me through, I still missed him dearly. Now I have a chance to see him again, to talk to him again. My mind wanders back to our previous year, I can’t help but smile at the bittersweet memories, flashes of sharing laughs in the halls to quiet cuddles in our dormitory.

I couldn’t help but toss and turn that night, thinking about talking to the blond boy after what felt like so long.

Timeskip

The day had surprisingly gone by fast, 5pm only an hour away now. I decided to start getting ready, I didn't want it to seem like I dressed up for him, but I still wanted to look presentable. I started with a pair of black dress pants, then slipped on a vest over a white button-up and completed the look with a (Colour) tie.

I walk over to the full-length mirror in the corner of my room, flattening the wrinkled pieces of cloth before taking a few minutes to fix my hair. I glance down at my wrist, only 10 minutes left, I let out a deep breath.

Draco’s POV:

This was a stupid idea, I doubt he’ll show up. My eyes look up at the darkening sky, if he were to show up, he’d be here very soon. I look back at the crowding tavern before taking a second to take a breath. I was ready to talk to him, I had to. I look at the (f/c) rose in my hand, it’s not much, but I hope he’ll like it.

Y/N’s POV:

I can’t help but stare at all the colorful lights and buildings, it had been a while since I walked the Hogsmeade streets. Often coming here with Draco for a butterbeer in the colder months. I sadly smile at that, it feels like a lifetime ago.

I take a longer route to The Three Broomsticks, wanting to soak in the views before seeing the blond boy. A wide grin found place on my lips as I looked at all the parts of Hogsmeade I used to hang out with friends in, small memories passing through my mind at the sights.

I stopped my ogling and checked my watch, I didn’t mean to take as long as I was, time seemed to just fly as I walked around. I shake my head, in the back of my head, I knew that I was just trying to prolong seeing him again, I couldn’t bear the thought of falling back in love with him just as I was starting to move on.

I rushed over to the tavern, not wanting him to wait any longer than he already had. I sigh as The Three Broomsticks make its way into my view, my eyes search around the entrance, stopping on a well-known head of blond hair. I take a second to look over him, his shaking hands holding a (f/c) rose. I feel my heart beat a little faster and my lips tugging up as I start to approach him, his pale eyes lighting up as they see me. Merlin, he was beautiful.

Draco’s POV:

The sound of a familiar pair of footsteps starts to grow louder, I gaze up at the sound, my eyes locking with his. ‘Wow’ The grin on his face making my cheeks flush. He was somehow even more handsome than I remember him being.

Y/N’s POV:

“Good evening, Draco'' I nodded my head towards him, his face reddening. He looks me up and down before opening his mouth, a mix of incomprehensible words tumbling out. “Pardon?” I quietly chuckled. “I-I’msosorrythatIleftyouthewayIdid-” “Woah, woah, slow down.” I smile at the nervous boy in front of me, taking his hand and rubbing my thumb over his fingers like I used to when we were together. “Take it slow, alright?” His body starts to loosen. “I’m here to listen.”

The color on his cheeks starts to deepen as he nods, quickly looking away as he takes a few breaths. He turns back towards me and starts.

Draco’s POV:

I feel my stomach flutter and my knees weaken at his touch, Merlin, I can't focus on anything but his trailing fingers. My head shoots to the side. How am I supposed to talk to him when I can feel my heart beating in my throat? My lungs let out shaky breaths before I ready myself to talk to him.

“I know I should’ve told you back then, and it was foolish of me not to,” I start. “I just didn’t know how to tell you everything and how you would’ve reacted to hearing it. I trusted you dearly, but I was still afraid you’d hate me and see me as a monster for what I had been forced into.” I feel my voice waver and pause for a second, continuing after I collect myself. My eyes quickly glanced into his own, watching as they pinched in understanding.

“I knew that if we were close, you wouldn’t be safe. Not with everything going on, not with all the eyes on me. I meant it when I said I did it for your safety, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you forever because I was too selfish to let you go first.” A long sigh leaves my lungs. “I- I just wanted to keep you out of everything, avoid putting you through the terrors I had seen.”

“I’m so sorry I hadn’t told you back then, I truly wanted to, I hope you can forgive me.”

I stop, a deep breath bringing my speech to an end. I yelped as I was pulled into an embrace, Y/N’s coarse hands rubbing circles against my back. My eyes start to water ‘Merlin, how I missed this, him.’ I dug my head into his shoulder, the cloth soaking up my tears as his cologne filled my mind.

Y/N’s POV:

I couldn’t stand to see him like that, so conflicted, like he was last year. His eyes started to well with tears, and I just couldn’t resist pulling him into me, holding him like I always used to. My hands rubbed along his back as his face fell onto my shoulder, I loved holding him like this. My hand reaches for his cheek, pulling it up to see his face, his eyes hazily glancing back up at me.

“Of course I forgive you, Draco; there’s nothing you could ever do to make me feel even the slightest bit of hatred for you.”

“I- Really? You forgive me after all that happened.”

“Yes, if I’m being honest, there is not a waking moment when you are not on my mind; you haunt my every thought and dream. I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you now that I have you again.”

“Y/N”

“Yes, Draco?”

“Do you think we could try this again? Us? I won’t let anything come between us now.”

“I’d love to, Dear.”

Draco’s POV:

I can’t help but swoon at the name, I’m so lucky to have him back. All those months of planning and fear were worth it in the end; I was in his arms, and he had no intent on letting go. As I now become more aware of my surroundings, I feel the rose I had paid so little attention to in my hands, the couple stray thorns pricking me.

I carefully back away from his chest, instead standing half-an-arm's length apart from him. His hands now resting on my lower as I bring the rose up to his view. His smile widens impossibly larger at the flower, freeing his hand and grabbing the (f/c) rose before placing a small kiss against my forehead “You remembered” I meekly nod “You haven't left my mind either.”

“Since we’re already here, what do you say we make the most of it and hang out like we used to?” My eyes light up as I look up at that. “You asking me out on a date?” I giggle. “You said it, not me.” I accept the offer, and he takes my hand and brings me into the tavern we were standing in front of. “Butterbeers on me.” He grins before opening the doors.

Y/N’s POV:

It had been a couple hours, but it felt so much longer. Being able to talk to him like this again, treat him like my lover again, I couldn’t stop the smile that forced its way onto my face. My eyes wandered his frame, I took in everything I had been missing for the past few months. His silky blond locks to his inviting grey eyes, to the dust of red on his pale cheeks, to the unique marks littered amongst his skin, and finally landing on his plump lips. He was truly gorgeous.

He must’ve noticed me staring, because his ears also start to blush, I place a hand on his thigh, moving my face towards his. His eyes flutter closed as we share a long awaited kiss.

Draco’s POV:

My heart nearly beats out of my chest at the connection; it was everything I hoped for, the kiss just as loving as it used to be. I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands grabbed my waist before breaking away. “It’s getting late; would you like to come home with me?” His hand reaches for my own, fingers dancing upon my palms.

“I’d love to.”

A/N: This somehow ended up being 3x the length of Part 1, idk how I did it. I hope it’s comprehensible, I haven't proof-read it. Thank you to @sotvs-luv for requesting the part 2 to this. (I’m unsure if you wanted to be tagged so if not, let me know and I’ll take it out!)

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

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annalu86 · 1 year

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I do details.

“What was yours and Isabel’s wedding like?” The question is so casual. The immediate response is a toothbrush clattering into the sink.

“What?” Lucy was ready for the level of surprise in Tim’s voice when he managed to reply.

“We were called to a fight at a wedding reception today, the father of the bride had had far too much to drink and got into a fist fight with the best man over some comments in his speech” Lucy was clearly enjoying recounting the drama “apparently the bride had dated a few of the grooms friends before they decided to settle down together and her father wasn’t happy with that being joked about!” Lucy looked at Tim but as always was disappointed that he wasn’t as invested as she was in the lives of complete strangers. “Anyway, it got me thinking. You’ve never mentioned your wedding, now I’m curious”

Tim was now stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised. He was ready for bed in an old T-shirt and shorts, bags under his eyes, very ready for their shared day off the next day.

“You’re surprised I haven’t told you about my wedding. To my ex-wife?” He remained in the door way, watching her sat on the bed rubbing in hand cream. She looked curious, but calm. He felt This could only go badly but he didn’t want to come across secretive.

“I’m just surprised I don’t know anything about it, other than your age. I don’t know the date, the location, the style. Anything!”

“And you want to know these things?” Tim really couldn’t understand why. Lucy had supported him through the very end of his marriage, she knew all about the toughest times they had been through but only a smattering of the good.

“I do” Lucy grinned at her own pun. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Ok. We got married in May, the exact day doesn’t matter. Near Isabel’s home town, a church and then an elderly relatives garden for the reception. Style? We were young, we didn’t want to spend much. It wasn’t fancy but it was..” he paused, was it wrong to say perfect. It had felt it at the time. Was it a disservice to describe it any other way, but how would Lucy feel?

“It sounds perfect” Lucy finished for him. He walked over and sat on his side of the bed, not getting under the covers, ready to answer more questions. “What was Isabel’s dress like?” She was smiling and he felt himself relax a little more.

“Traditional? Big, white and fluffy. I think Isabel would have like more of the glitz” he looked Lucy in the eye, knowingly “but that’s not really me.”

She laughed “no, it’s not”

Tim reached over and pulled Lucy, already dressed and ready for bed, over on top his side. Her head on his chest and his fingers tracing patterns onto her arm.

“What about you?” It was definitely easier to ask her this without her looking at him.

“Hmm?”

“What do you imagine your wedding will look like” he swallowed heavily.

“My wedding?” She turned her face to look up into his.

“If you could have anything you wanted” he gazed back down at her. Taking her hand in his and circling his long calloused fingers around her ring finger slowly.

“I’m not sure, it’s not something I dreamed about as a girl. I wouldn’t want a big wedding, I’d maybe be happy to elope” she glances up to see a slight look of surprise on his face “I’d want Tamara with me of course, she’d never forgive me. But I think I’d be ok to leave the drama of my mother behind” Tim kisses the top of her head as she continues. “A beach maybe, or even vegas! A dress with flowing sleeves, maybe some

Colour and sushi!” She was starting to enjoy this “we definitely have to have sushi. We could invite some of the guys from work Angela, of course, Nyla, Nolan. Genny and the boys.” She stopped suddenly. It had not escaped either Tim or Lucy that she has switched from ‘I’ to

‘We’. Tim had stopped moving his hand in hers.

To Lucy it felt like hours passed, she was just about to open her mouth to attempt some damage control when

“Nolan? I don’t dislike him but you want him at our wedding?”

“I thought I could have whatever I wanted?” She smiled against his chest

“But Nolan?”

They talked like this for a while longer, until Lucy heard Tim’s breathing start to slow, his hand dropped from her back where it had been drawing patterns.

“Tim?” She whispered. No response, instead of waking him she climbed off the bed and found a blanket to drape of his before climbing under the covers herself.

She felt proud of them. Their relationship was anything but traditional, they knew each other so well and their connection was so strong that when Tim had finally asked Lucy out it had felt like they had agreed to a

Whole life together. Not just a date. It was easy to just assume they were on the same page but tonight they had managed to confirm it.

As she was drifting off to sleep she smiled thinking about the last think he had said to her before falling asleep him self.

“I’d go to the court tomorrow, all That matters is you”

#chenford #chenford fanfic #tim bradford #lucy chen #the rookie #can’t sleep #ramblings #at least it’s a bit shorter this time #elopements are the best

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autisticlancemcclain · 11 months

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prev chapters

———

Lance smooths down the pleats of his new black skirt, trying to focus on how nice it feels and not the anxiety churning in his stomach.

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s totally not going to make a fool of himself and then be forced to quit Voltron due to his own humiliation.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Hunk laments dramatically, poking at Lance’s lockpad like he’s itching to take a screwdriver to it. “Keith is so whipped for you that it’s actually embarrassing. I dunno why you’re worrying about anything.”

“The person who’s fault this is doesn’t get an opinion,” Lance says pointedly. He glares at his best friend through the mirror, who only shrugs in defense.

“You don’t work through your shit unless you’re forced to. Remember the Garrison applications?”

Lance sighs. Hunk’s right, which is annoying. Lance had dreamed about becoming a pilot since he could think, basically, but as soon as he was old enough to fill out the forms, he chickened out. Worked himself up into a frenzy about not being good enough, and managed to convince himself not to bother. It was Hunk, aged eleven, who forged Lance’s application for him and sent it in with his own.

Lance does, unfortunately, need to be pushed into things he’s nervous about. That’s why he and Hunk are friends, even though Hunk is a horrible secret keeper.

“I still think you should be begging for my forgiveness,” Lance grumbles. He takes one last look in the mirror and can’t quite help a smile.

He does, if one were to think completely objectively, look fine as hell. Red is his colour, and damn any conflicting opinions to hell — the belly button piercing is pretty. The tramp stamp is a classy kind of trashy.

And the lipgloss Allura convinced him to get?

Damn. That’s all he has to say about that.

“Finally,” Hunk grouches when Lance turns to the door, but he’s grinning, and he keeps an encouraging hand on Lance’s shoulder the whole walk to the dining room.

“I think it’s really excellent that we’re doing this as we eat,” he says conversationally. “I’m looking forward to watching Keith forget how to use a spoon.”

Lance snorts. “Keith will not forget how to use a fuckin’ spoon, dorkbrain. Besides, he’s seen it all, remember?”

Hunk grins. “I do remember you telling me about the shower incident. Allura and I like to bring it up to each other randomly and laugh until we cry.”

Fortunately for Hunk, they make it to the doors before Lance can kick him for his insolence. Hunk half-yanks Lance through before he can talk himself out of it.

“Oh, no fucking way.” Pidge is the first to notice. She looks at Lance with wide, gleeful eyes, as if Lance has just informed her that her birthday comes twice this year. She looks at his midriff, then back at his face, and grins, adjusting her glasses. “I fucking love it here. Everything about my life is a gem.”

“I mean, we are fighting fascism,” Allura mumbles. She shoots Lance a smile and turns back to trying to sculpt the castle out of food goo (it is not going well, thus her stuck-out tongue and intense concentration). Lance tugs on her hair as he walks by, just to be a nuisance. She tries and fails to trip him.

“My, dear, you look wonderful!” Coran says. He beams so brightly at Lance that Lance can’t help but smile back, accepting the chair Coran pulls out for him — swallowing down the twinge of pain he gets when he remembers his siblings doing the same teasing gesture back home, whenever he dressed up for no reason, the twinge of pain he gets when his space family and his Earth family occupy the same space in his heart — and sitting carefully so as to not flare up his skirt.

“Thanks, Coran.”

He glances at the rest of the table. Shiro shoots him a wink and a thumbs up, and Hunk, who’s sat down next to Pidge, is openly sniggering.

Keith is completely frozen, spoon halfway to his mouth, goo sliding off of it.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says. He hears the slight slyness in his voice, the nerves making butterflies turn in his stomach but kind of exciting him, too.

Keith opens his mouth, then closes it again, and does that several times before he finally makes himself speak.

“Hey,” he croaks out. Lance ducks his head slightly to hide his grin. “You, uh. You look — I like your —” he struggles to find his words and gives up for a moment, gesturing vaguely to Lance’s person.

Poorly-hidden giggles erupt from all over the table. Keith goes redder than his lion.

“You like my…?” Lance tries, well aware he’s fishing for compliments and beyond caring.

“All of it,” Keith says, a little helplessly. He’s undoubtedly embarrassed — obviously — but his eyes are determined, and his voice is sincere. He takes a deep breath and then nods once to himself, like he’s solidifying a decision.

“All of it,” he repeats, voice steadier than before.

Lance’s cheeks start to hurt. “Thank you.”

Keith nods again, ears still red, and turns back to his goo. He scarfs his food down, not looking up, and practically runs to the sink when he’s done, washing his dish at lightspeed and rushing out the doors with a hasty wave and excuse.

“Oh, he’s going to be so embarrassing for the next few weeks,” Shiro says wistfully. He turns to Lance with the fondest expression. “Gold star for you, kiddo. Please continue to make my week.”

Lance thinks to the giant bag of clothes he and Allura brought back from the mall, and how absolutely none of them cover his midriff. He smirks slightly to himself

“Will do, Team Leader.”

He’s going to have fun cracking that boy.

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asgardianangel · 1 year

Note

oh lord forgive me if this is just too much but i would just die if you wrote something with saul along the lines of … “i know some very bad men that would pay very good money for a sweet little thing like you”.. angry dark possessive sexy saul mm

A night you would never forget

Saul Goodman X Innocent fem! Reader

Summary: Your love for your ill grandma sent you in a desperation for money and into the arms of a possessive lawyer

Warnings: 18+, bad language, dark possessive Saul!, mentions of sex working, threats, naïve! reader, allusions of NSFW, deception, age gap, forced relationship, implied stalking

Living in Alburquerque New Mexico was hard to say the least. Going from one job to another it just wasn’t enough for you. You were financial drained and it was a call for desperation by the reveal of your ill grandma’s medical bill. She was in and out of hospital and unfortunately things didn’t look to be getting better.

Your love for her encouraged you to pull your weight on earning money tremendously more. She was the only family you had and losing her would mean the end of the world to you.

You were desperate to the point you started to consider selling your body to willing men. The idea came to you when your friend Anna unexpectedly visited you, she was in the whole ‘sex worker business’ or ‘lady of the night’ that’s what she liked to call it unlike some people.

Anna giggled showing off her new designer handbag “guess how much this beauty cost?” she asked you raised a brow in a thought “I’m not too sure hundred maybe?” you guessed.

“More like five hundred” she answered with a grin and you mouthed a ‘wow’ in disbelief. “I wouldn’t have guess” you say.

“How’s your dear old grandma?” Anna asked and your stare down at your coffee with a sigh “not good and truthfully, I’m financially fucked to pay for her possibly lifesaving treatment” you responded with a saddened tone.

Anna looks at you with sympathy “you know Y/n you are really beautiful and if you're that desperate why don’t you start doing what I do” she suggested and you stare at her in shock.

“I-I don’t know about that” you stutter a little and Anna just smiles at you “C’mon it’s not bad besides my customers are nice and generous sometimes they just want someone to talk to” you in thought about what she was saying.

“Like I said you are beautiful and young you could really earn a lot from it. These men they love innocent looking girls like you” Anna giggles again. You were totally innocent you had three relationships in the past but they all didn’t end well. It’s not like sex wasn’t something you had never heard of before.

“Listen I have to go now call me if you want to go through with it. It will change your life.” Anna waved in goodbyes.

After another unfortunate call from the hospital, you were left with no choice.

It was a Friday night and you carefully memorised tips given by Anna like ‘might sure you flirt with them most of the night’ and ‘make sure they know what you are worth’.

You hardly recognised yourself in the mirror after she gave you a makeover.

Anna made it easier for you by sending one of her clients your way claiming ‘he’s a big lawyer guy that makes a lot of money’ so you sat at a local bar waiting for his arrival. After one or two drinks you realised, he was late of the time Anna gave him. You started to get anxious as you pulled on the tight dress you were wearing.

Maybe he changed his mind. You didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Glancing at the clock behind the bar he was now half an hour late. Sighing you pulled out your purse ready to pay up and leave.

Then there was a man's voice “you must be Cat” you turn around hearing the fake name Anna made up for you. He was much older then you. Appearance was very much smart like a lawyer but his colour choices were usual to say the least. Reminding you of those inflatable men outside car dealerships and whatnot. But he looked oddly familiar.

You gave him that sweet smile of yours “that’s me handsome” you tuck a hair behind your ear.

The man laughs “what a charmer my name is Saul and it’s nice to meet you” he introduced and it struck you he was that late night lawyer guy you have seen on TV. Saul sits on the empty stool next to you.

It felt awkward you didn’t know what to say to him as you finished your second drink “you want another one of those sweetheart?” he asks and you nod. “Yes please” you say quietly.

Saul seemly was admiring the way you looked his blue eyes would drift from your bare thighs to your cleavage. “God you are beautiful” he mused and you blushed “thank you”

Given you were so awkward Saul kept the conversation afloat telling you all funny stories about his clients and you laughed along with him. “Wow you deal with all sorts of characters it sounds like fun” you say and he takes a sip of his beer “yeah it is- you got any stories about your clients?” Saul asks and you almost choke on your drink.

What could you say? You hesitated for a bit “I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you- I don’t mean that to insult you given well your job” he rambles and you snigger.

“It’s okay I don’t get interesting clients” you lie and then Saul raises his brow at you “wait a minute-am I your first client?” he questions at you just gave him an honest look “oh sweetheart” Saul awes in understanding.

“Just so you know we don’t have to anything tonight. I’ll still pay you for this nice company” he reassured you. Not sure if it was just the drinking or the good conversation but you were starting to become attracted to the older man.

Saul was so gentle and charming.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” you asked curiously and Saul just smiles “I think you are very beautiful doll face and easy to talk to” he sighs honestly but it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Then he gave you a clear answer “Very much so- if you want to” staring at each other he placed his hand over yours. Saul moved in for a kiss and there was hint of shyness with you “sorry I’m just not used to this” you tell him. He started caressing your cheek “it’s okay we can just go slow” he advised you softly.

You felt comfortable around him so you gathered up the confidence and kissed him gently. It started off slow and then you granted his tongue access and you tasted the beer he had been drinking. As you wrapped your hands around his neck. After some intimate kissing at the bar, he then asked you the question.

“I have a room booked upstairs if you wanna-” you interrupted by kissing him again

It was certainly a night you wouldn’t forget.

A whole month had passed and you started to notice changes. You didn’t really know what type of relationship you had with Saul. But there was one thing for certain...he was behaving strangely.

Ever since that first night you shared with him Saul made you vow to be at his side

‘Tell me you are only mine sweetheart and I will take care of you’ he whispered tracing circles along your shoulder blade pecking kisses on your soft skin.

In exchange for the sex and downright obedience he solved all your financial worries. The sex was amazing but you felt as though each time Saul would become rougher and controlling.

Grabbing at your throat and slamming into like a man possessed.

“You belong to me in each and every way I own you”

On the lighter side of things your grandma was recovering smoothly. You tried spending as much time with her as possible but recently it became hard with Saul demanding you to be with him every second of every day.

On top that you had an eerie feeling that you were being watched.

You thought you would be able to have some decent time to yourself knowing Saul was a busy man. But that didn’t stop him.

It started to become unbearable. Your body was sore and oversensitive.

As he called you in his office you started to question the relationship you had with him. But that was interrupted the displeased look on his face.

“I can’t fucking believe you sweetheart” Saul seethed as he closed the door behind you with a slam. Why was he so angry? Staring at him confused.

“Don’t look at me like that! You know what you have been up to!” he shakes his finger at you like a parent scolding their child. Still unsure what he was even talking about you utter a “what?” and he laughs sarcastically.

“Conspiring to leave me when you know exactly who you belong to. I know about your little meetups with your bitch of a friend Anna” His words withheld so much venom and you were in shock. “You were spying on me?” you questioned and he nods with another chuckle.

It explained the feeling you always had since seeing him.

“Why would you do that?” you asked and you started to wonder how long has he been doing it?

Saul steps closer to you with a big smirk on his face “I just wanted to keep an eye on my doll and you have deeply upset me” there was a look in his eyes like never before. No gentleness or warmth but possession.

He was no longer the man that you went to the hotel room with that night.

You're back hitting against the wall Saul had you caged between his arms “please just let me leave” you quietly begged. “Oh, that’s how you going to repay me for taking care of you?” Saul questions with a tusk.

He presses his lips against your ear “do you want me to tell you a secret?” His voice husks and you gently nod. Feeling disgusted and shocked by his true demeanour

“I’ve known you long before you became a wannabe sex worker doll. You see Anna owed me big time for defending her in court. She was going to be sentenced away for a looong time if it wasn't for me and she offered me her body. But I didn’t want her” your eyes widen in disbelief as his hand traced up to your breast.

“I wanted that sweet and innocent friend of hers who was desperate to take care of her beloved grandmother” his voice purred pecking down the side of your neck you struggled against him trying to get away.

You couldn’t believe this was happening to you. How can Anna do this to you?

But the older man was quick to slam you against the wall “you are so ungrateful after anything I’ve done for you” he seethed in your ear. His hand was held tight around both your wrists holding them above you.

“i know some very bad men that would pay very good money for a sweet little thing like you” he threatened

“I suggest you stop struggling and bend over my desk for me because I can make that happen sweetheart trust me”

#saul goodman x reader #better call saul fanfic

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

Text

Springtime On The Moor [Chapter 2]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Chapter Rating: T Story Tags: Regency AU|Slow Burn|Arranged Marriage (affectionate)|Strangers to Friends to Lovers|Angst/Comfort Proofread: No lol Taglist: @trfanglophile @fairy-writes @feeiry Chapter Summary: Now in your new home, you begin to start planning how to improve all manners of the estate. You don’t see your new husband very much, but the one time you do? Well, it’s...eventful.

When you wake the next morning, your mind is addled with confusion. At first, you can’t really place where it’s stemming from, but as you slowly begin to gain awareness, the reality of your situation sets in.

Most notably is the way your room smells - different than the one you’d grown so used to over the years, with its vague pine aroma: gone are the woodsy undertones of your childhood, replaced by a pleasant freshness that reminds you of springtime.

It’s not a terrible smell, not by any means, but combined with the strangeness of your new bed and the unfamiliar angle at which the sun casts into your room, you just feel…lost.

You’re calmer than you were yesterday, you realize, though you’re still on edge. Now that your disastrous wedding is done and over with, and you no longer feel the need to dread about the upcoming event, you can better focus on catching up from your momentary lapse.

And what a recovery it would be.

Sitting up in bed, you stretch your arms above your head until a series of little pops crackle up your spine.

It was going to require most - if not all - of your energy to climb your way out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself, and you were going to need to be smart about it. Begging your friends for forgiveness would only cause them to snub you even further, and outright trying to bribe them would result in snide disdain.

But…that’s a problem for the near future, you suppose.

Before you could work on winning back your companions, you’d first need to work on…well, everything.

You push yourself out of bed - a great effort on your part, considering the plush excellence that is your mattress - and wander over to where your various trunks and suitcases are still stacked by the wardrobe.

Though, much to your surprise, they’re all empty.

Your stomach leaps into your throat for a couple moments, fearing the worst fate for your precious clothes, but the moment you pull open the doors of your closets, you catch your breath.

Of course someone would have put all your things away for you - and while you were sleeping, no less.

You briefly wonder if perhaps it was a task done by your husband, as a way of apologizing to you for the night prior, but you’re quick to shake it away. In the brief time since meeting him, you’ve never known Viktor to be a particularly forward man.

No, it’s far more likely that one of the maids had come in while you were resting.

Still, it’s far easier to pick an outfit for the day when everything is delicately hung up and in plain sight, rather than neatly folded and stacked in a trunk.

You end up choosing something light and airy, that flows comfortably over your body. The colours are the gentlest of pastels, patterned in lovely, abstract, florals, and it’s one of your favourite summer dresses that you’ve ever owned.

It doesn’t take you long to dress yourself after laying everything out on your bed. Your father had always ensured that you and your siblings were well cared for in terms of food and knowledge and housing, and never was there a day in your life when any of you were unloved: but you hadn’t been an especially wealthy family.

You were used to dressing yourself by now, having learned from your sisters as you’d grown, rather than having had the help of a ladies’ maid.

Which is why the sudden knock on your door startles you so significantly.

Even moreso when the knob turns and the face of a young woman peeks in. If you could even call her that.

The girl barely looks older than sixteen, though she’s dressed in the standard manner for a housemaid. Hair tied back in a low twist, held in place by a ribbon, and a typical pocketed apron fastened around her waist.

She looks a little bit distracted as she comes into the room, but the moment she sees you standing at the foot of your bed, half-dressed no less, her demeanor changes. Her eyes widen in realization, and she’s quick to drop her head low to avoid eye contact.

“My apologies for entering unannounced, ma’am,” she squeaks, barely mustering up the courage to spare you a glance. “I had no idea if you’d be awake yet, and the master distinctly informed us that we were not to wake you until you were ready.”

Your brows raise in a way that must be comical, though the girl in front of you doesn’t giggle.

Viktor had ordered his staff not to wake you?

It’s a sweet notion, you think, wondering if he’d done as such just to be polite, or if he genuinely thought you needed the extra rest. You did nap on the carriage ride over to his estate. And perhaps he’d realized your emotions had been running high after the calamity that was your wedding day.

“It’s no issue,” you assure her, offering a sweet smile with intent to soothe her. “I have a tendency to oversleep. Perhaps in the future we might try rousing before ten, though?”

The young maid stares up at you for a moment, appearing most boggled by the kindness in your voice.

“I- of course, ma’am,” she agrees, nodding again. “It’s not yet past noon, though, so perhaps you’d like to take breakfast now? Our chef has prepared a menu of eggs, potatoes, sausage, toast, and an assortment of jams to choose from. Served with your choice of tea.”

Your stomach rumbles just thinking about it. Your father had never let anyone in your family go hungry, but heavens you weren’t used to such a wide variety of foods.

“That sounds wonderful,” you sigh, your mind already beginning to wander to all the different flavours of jams and jellies you might spread across your toast. The softness of the salted potatoes…the satisfying pop of the sausage as you bite down…

Until thoughts of your husband once again invade your mind.

“Will…Viktor be joining me, today?” you ask hesitantly, as you button up the last three buttons on your dress.

Your young maid looks at you with an almost pitiful expression, before she’s able to catch herself and put up a more neutral facade. She continues to fiddle with her sleeves, though, and it’s not hard to pick up on her nervous mood.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” she replies sadly. “The master doesn’t usually take breakfast. I fear he doesn’t usually take lunch, either, try as we might to get him to eat.”

You frown slightly, while she continues.

“But he’s insisted that you be offered a wide variety of foods, so you might find something you enjoy. No expense is to be withheld when it comes to you.”

You feel as though you should be some sort of grateful for all that your new husband has done for you, so far. At least in terms of the freedom you’ve been given.

Full run of the estate, claim to whatever you desired, any kind of food or material object you could ever possibly want. Nothing was too expensive - not if it was for you.

You should be grateful.

And really, you are grateful.

You know many women - some of them your own friends - who do not have such kind marriages. Rules upon rules, regular scoldings, feeling as though they are always doing something wrong. You’d known that your father would have never let you enter into such a union, not for all the money in the world.

But…it’s so strange to have no structure whatsoever.

Viktor didn’t even know you, and yet he had so easily offered access to whatever you could possibly ask for.

“I’ll have to give him my thanks the next time I see him,” you mumble, wringing your hands together.

Your stomach growls again.

“I don’t suppose you’d be able to point me towards the dining room?”

—

The young maid makes haste in leading you down towards your desired location, insisting that it won’t take you long at all to know the ins and outs of the manor. “The master chose you specifically because of your cleverness, after all,” she happily tells you, promising that the layout is not so difficult once you get used to it.

Right.

As if you could ever get used to this.

Being led through every room, it becomes more and more obvious. You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings the day before - you’d been far too cranky to really take in any of the details. But now, in the light of day, with a fresh mind and pair of eyes?

The manor is remarkable.

The furniture is dated, yes, but much like your room, each piece is so finely crafted that it outright screams wealthy. Decorations and trinkets on shelves, statuettes and beautifully painted artworks, the softest and most intricate of upholstery.

Viktor isn’t just wealthy.

Viktor is filthy rich.

And it completely baffles you.

Whether his fortune is inherited or not, you don’t care. Any family of such monetary value is not one that goes unnoticed among the upper class! But Viktor…

…you had no idea who he was.

You knew of his parents, you know of his siblings. You know of the business they used to run, or perhaps the business that they still do run - but Viktor?

You didn’t even know your now-husband existed before he’d asked for your hand. You hadn’t recognized his name, nor his title, and you hadn’t believed his letters when he’d spoken of his familial ties. If not for your father vouching for him, and remembering him from when he was but a boy, you would have tossed his proposal aside!

Because surely it would have been a joke.

An incredibly cruel joke.

A man of such standing would never have chosen a woman of your humble background. Not if he was in his right mind.

Why would he choose you?

“Here we are, ma’am.”

You’re jarred out of your thoughts by the gentle voice of your young maid, her small hand coming to rest at your elbow to guide you further into the room.

“You’re free to take any seat you wish. I'll inform the chef and the other staff that your meal is to be brought up at once.”

Then, before you can so much as open your mouth to speak, she turns on her heel and glides out of the room, leaving you behind to flounder for a moment in the doorway.

Maybe she’s new.

You don’t sit down right away after she leaves, too curious about the various decor scattered about. A painting on one of the walls, of a scenic countryside you don’t recognize. A delicate lace runner laid across the center of the long, darkwood table.

About six different potted plants that are…a little worse for wear.

You reach for one of the large, fanned leaves, swiping your thumb over the waxy texture a couple times with a miffed expression. No wonder the poor thing is wilting, you think, when you observe the trail you’ve left in the dust.

It brings your mind back to the garden that you’d gotten a glimpse of when you’d first arrived at the manor.

Your new husband obviously had trouble maintaining a home, which you can hardly blame him for. As a man, he wouldn’t have been raised to know how to handle that sort of thing, and he would have had expectations on him to flourish elsewhere: outside of the home, among the other business owners and men.

If he even had any expectations put on him at all. He was only an adopted son, after all - most parents would have wanted their fortune to go to their own blood, so that their legacy might continue…

The harder you think about it, the more baffling the entire situation becomes.

Nothing makes sense.

You eventually grow bored of picking over the various nuances of the room, and decide to find a seat for yourself, across from where you think Viktor might sit, if he were there with you.

A convenient choice on your part, because not two seconds after you settle into a chair does one of the doors in the far corner open, allowing a handful of kitchen staff to stride in and bring you your meal.

—

You venture outside not long after you finish your breakfast.

The clouds and rain from the prior day have disappeared completely, leaving in their wake a blue, sunny sky and the sweet smell of saturated earth. Even in the overgrown nightmare that is the garden, you can’t help but bask in the sunshine as you walk down the numerous, winding flagstone paths.

It truly must have been a marvel when it was kept up, you think. You poke and prod at ivies and vines as you wander, checking at the structures that lay beneath them.

Stone statues and sculptures, carved by hand and with great care.

Now worn and mildewy, covered with heaps of creeping plants.

You wonder for a couple moments if your husband has a gardener in his employ, but with a little bit of critical thought, you abandon the idea. With the yard in a state like this, there’s no way he’d have someone who tends it - no one with any sense of pride would want to be connected to the mess.

It makes you sad, the more you think about it.

His staff already seemed so minimal, barely able to care for the inside of his home. You’re not sure how frequently he ventures outside, but you know he must feel some sense of loss when he gazes upon the wreck of a garden. Loss, or perhaps failure.

As if it’s because of his own personal shortcomings that he’s not able to manage better.

But that’s why he has you, now.

You take a seat on some old patio furniture when you stumble across it. The paint is chipping, and it desperately needs a good cleaning, but the wrought iron is sturdy and relatively comfortable. It provides a good spot of respite after all the roaming you’ve done.

Viktor had said that anything you could ever want was yours to be had. Anything he owned, anything you could find, anything you could ask for. Did that sentiment also hold true when it came to bringing on new staff members?

The vines and weeds would be a great uptaking, especially so late in the year: you’re honestly not sure if you’d be able to find someone well enough equipped to handle the delicate labour: the plants needed to be removed properly, as to not destroy the healthy soil hiding beneath them.

You could do it perfectly fine, you know. It would take a couple of weeks to clear everything away, especially as you were only one person, but you could do it. Your father had raised you to love the earth, allowing you to run around and play outside when the time was appropriate, always encouraging you to learn about nature and how to care for it.

He hadn’t cared if you’d gotten your dresses dirty or made a mess.

…but you’re not sure your husband would share the sentiment.

Nothing so far about our courting or marriage has been conventional, you try to remind yourself as you stare up at the sky, thinking of how you might bring the subject up to him. You’ve been given freedoms beyond what you had ever expected, but a little piece of you knows it might not be wise to push your luck.

But you won’t know until you try.

You sit out in the sun for a while longer, letting the warmth seep into your bones and smooth over your skin. And then, when you feel sufficiently revitalized, you make your way inside to begin mapping out your plan - a schedule of sorts, to outline all the things that needed to be done in order to start bringing the estate back into its former glory.

—

You get so into your work that you end up missing lunch altogether. You hadn’t minded initially, not wanting to break into your flow state to pause and eat, but now, as the clock chimes seven, you deeply regret your actions. Your stomach is positively storming after missing a meal, creating an embarrassing amount of fuss.

You nearly run down to the dining room to make sure you don’t miss out on any of the promised food, all but bursting through the open door in a fit of hunger, disheveled and out of breath.

What’s even more embarrassing, is the fact that Viktor’s gaze snaps up to you as soon as you appear.

Ah.

Yes.

Right.

Your young maid had said that he never took breakfast, and rarely lunch. He…would have to eat at some point, wouldn’t he? Slender as he is, you don’t think he’d survive much longer without at least one meal each day.

“Ah- good evening, sir,” you greet him, trying in vain to get your hair back into place. “I wasn’t expecting your company tonight. I apologize for my tardiness.”

He’s quiet for a couple of moments, his eyes not so subtly wandering over your form.

You realize now that you must be an absolute mess, to him. Dirt caught along the hem of your dress after traipsing around outside, your hair halfway falling out of your usual style, your breath coming in quick huffs after hauling yourself through the manor like a bat out of hell.

Entirely unladylike.

“It’s alright,” he finally says, in his quiet lilt that you so desperately wished to hear more of. To hear him read to you sometime, perhaps curled up in the sitting room together - about his work, maybe, or perhaps one of his favourite novels, if he had one.

You smile sweetly at him, and quickly find yourself a seat across from him - only too late do you realize that he means to keep up appearances.

You pull your chair out.

He scrambles to stand.

His sleeve catches on his cutlery.

You’re not entirely sure what manner of event follow, save for an upsettingly loud clatter, and then the crack of a candle popping out of its holder.

Fully lit.

Onto the beautiful crimson table runner.

“Shit!” Viktor hisses, hastily looking around for any manner of item to extinguish the small flame now burning a hole in the fabric.

You, however, are shocked into silence. Watching on in utter confusion as your husband looks high and low for a pitcher of water, or a glass, or-

He’s well and truly terrible under pressure, isn’t he?

With a well practiced hand, you’re quick to snatch the fallen candle off the table, setting it upright in its original holder alongside its brothers. Once it’s steady and not in danger of tipping again, you turn your attention to the tiny fire smouldering on the table.

Barely bigger than that one a candlewick.

You bring your bare hand down on top of it, hardly even wincing at the slight pinch of heat, and bat at it until it’s well and truly snuffed out, leaving nothing but a crisp hole in the delicate lace and a couple wisps of smoke.

Viktor stares at you.

You stare at Viktor.

You lock eyes for a good couple seconds.

Until you can’t resist any longer. Your bottom lip wobbles dramatically, and a snort slips forth past your lips.

Then another.

And another.

You plaster your hand over your mouth to try and contain yourself, but you’re entirely unable to. Your shoulders shake as you laugh, your mirthful cries filling the room as you continue to lose your senses.

Even more peculiar, your husband joins you.

Both of you collapse back into your seats, sharing together in the moment of absurdity, the utter carelessness and back luck. Of all the things to happen during your first dinner together, neither of you could have predicted that you’d start a fire.

“I’m sorry,” Viktor sighs, with hints of a grin still tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m so sorry. That was - not intended. I promise you, I would never-”

“Viktor, it’s okay,” you chuckle, finally able to take a breath. “It was an accident, and no one got hurt. It’s okay-”

The door bursts open, and a portly woman in a maid’s dress storms in, looking every which way around the room in a fit of what appears to be anger.

“What is all the fuss?!” she demands, glaring a hole in your husband as she stomps closer.

She doesn’t look particularly old, perhaps in her forties, but she looks and acts as though she’s a well-seasoned carer of the manor. She certainly speaks to Viktor as though she’s known him his whole life, though the disrespect in her tone when addressing him certainly puts you on edge.

“Boy, what have you done now?” she scolds curtly. “And why is there a hole burned in the-”

“We had a bit of a mishap,” you interrupt her, squaring your shoulders to stare at her with a cool sort of curiosity. “I’m afraid it was my doing, not that any harm has truly been done.”

The woman’s eyes nearly bug out of her head, and she rounds the table to turn her anger on you.

“No harm?!” she shouts, flailing in the general direction of the inconsequential burn. “Do you know how old this lace is, girl? It’s been the envious centerpiece of this feasting table for decades-”

“And it can be repaired,” you say sharply, cutting her off once again.

She stares down at you with a barely contained rage.

You raise your chin and stare right back.

“I don’t know who you are,” you say calmly, keeping your eyes locked on hers, “But in order to speak so fondly to the master of the house, he must consider you quite an important part of his life. I, however, hold no such ties.”

You lower your voice, and lean forward in your chair.

“In the future, you will speak to my husband and I with respect, and not as if either of us is some sort of folly child. Understood?”

The maid, as you assume her to be, remains steadfast for a couple of moments, before deflating with a deep sigh and taking a step back. All at once her expression softens and her posture relaxes, and she regards you with a tired half-smile.

“Lord knows that boy could use a woman who is capable of running a home,” she barks, turning away to begin making her way back to the kitchens. “He chose well with you, he did.”

You must look as baffled as you feel.

And then, right before she exits the room completely,

“Mind the knife stuck in the wall, though, dear.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #Springtime On The Moor #this is so not proofread it's anti-proofread

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inbetweenhours · 1 year

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Hermes Origins

When Sanctuary arose Joel was dubious of its success. The leader the spitting image of a long dead enemy, hailing from where his kingdom once stood and insisting he was creating a safe haven for people. That his kingdom wasn’t interested in conquering or power, but was just a place to rest. A place to become a home. Joel brushed him off. If Sausage became a problem he was more than capable of keeping Stratos secure.

But then months turning to years passed, and Sanctuary still stood. It neither fell to ruin nor reached beyond its borders. More and more people moved in, escaping something of the first continent Joel called home. Forgive Joel for growing curious.

When he visits it's as if the city itself is alive, a spirit ushering you along roadways opening windows or doors or moving furniture. It would be creepy, haunted, if it weren't for the utter warmth it filled the place with. The bright colours and lively nature reminded Joel of a place he had long locked away in his memory, securely forced to the recesses of his mind for all the damage it causes his psyche… Still, perhaps it is why he couldn’t help but love Sanctuary.

Perhaps this is why it is not his fault when Sausage comes to him and asks about a messaging system between them. They have been talking an awful lot lately and they are quite a distance from one another. So Joel doesn’t think as he returns to Stratos. Doesn’t dwell as he sits by the fountain with a block of terracotta. He has made constructs before for Stratos. Mindless ones that do not quite resemble people but instead machines. To do simple tasks, or message between other empires. Mindless machines, as constructs should be.

This is his intention as he begins to carve and mould the clay. But as he works he finds himself getting lost in thought. Of Sausage and Sanctuary and a home he has tried to forget. A home his hands remember as they shape the clay with features unlike any other construct he has made in the past millennium. When his hands come away from the clay and he knows he is done he sees a boy. A small, young boy. If he were human Joel would be curious if the thing would even be able to walk, so young looking. But it is not human, it is a construct. A machine to walk messages between Stratos and Sanctuary. That is its purpose, no more.

So he lays the construct in the fountain as he does all his creations he wishes to put power into. And a day later finds the construct sitting up in the water, splashing at it curiously. It looks at Joel with such large, round eyes full of curiosity and hope and life and Joel knows right then he has done something wrong. That he has never given something life, not like she had anyways. And so he must be imagining it. He picks the construct out of the fountain and hands it a letter for Sausage. He explains it’s purpose, gives it it’s mission to Sanctuary.

And he should have simply given direction and left. Constructs are machines, they follow orders, they don't think. But… Joel wouldn’t mind a trip to Sanctuary. So he picks the construct up and makes the trip to Sanctuary for the both of them. Just to show it the route of course. And when he reaches the town he puts the machine down in all its beige unpainted terracotta glory, points and leaves it to its goal. Deliver its message.

It’s a week later when Sausage shows up in Stratos that Joel realizes he can’t just ignore the problem at hand. Sausage asks what Joel was thinking, expecting a baby- Toddler? To wander the expanse between their empires. Joel would be confused, if it weren't for the messenger construct curled up in Sausages arms. Dressed in bright purple sanctuary clothes. Joel tries to explain (though Sausage is very distressed) that it isn’t a real child. It’s just a construct to act as messenger. It is made of clay. He shows the messenger for Chromia that had come back in the recent days as an example. But the still automation of the llama creature does nothing to convince Sausage.

And Joel wants to argue that the kid isn’t real. It's just a silly statue he carved in the heat of the moment. He’ll carve another less life-like if it will calm Sausage down and he can just take this one back. But Sausage resists, holding the construct close. And it is in that movement that Joel looks at it and notices-

It is staring, wide eyes at him. It curls small and close against Sausage's chest as if afraid. And that wouldn't be enough. Because other constructs can emote, can move their bodies in ways that could be read as humane. But this construct breathes, and the hair that was clay only a day ago moves as if it were real, not a single carved mass. And the child cries, because of course. How could Joel not see it? This was not a machine, this was a child. More real than any Joel had ever made, perhaps more then even she had ever made. Because even she could not transform her creations, give them hair and tears and pigmentation. Because the clay of the hair had darkened, and the skin had lightened, and eyes were distinguishable even if only in shades of brown and grey clay.

Sausage soothes the child and Joel falls to their level. And filled with old pride he takes the child from Sausage’s arms and looks at him. At the child he created, at the life he had created. And he holds the child close. He soothes best he can, stilted and awkward but trying. He never got the chance to try before. He confesses to Sausage it was an accident. It was meant to only be a machine, he hadn’t meant for it to breathe and grow as it surely will. He isn’t even sure it was all his own magic on inspection, divinity lies in the boy but just as much as foreign Sanctuary magic. As the spirit that engulfs the city.

So now Joel and Sausage have a child. They trade him every week and exchange letters when they do. It's an inefficient system, but there's pride in the boy they’ve called Hermes. Their son. The first family Joel has had in a millenia.

#empires smp #empires smp 2 #there are clearly links to s1 but this is focused on s 2 so thats all im tagging #empires smp season 2 #smallishbeans #empires hermes #mythicalsausage #stratos joel is mezalea joel #hourspost #hourswrites #this was sitting in my Emperors Guide document and i figured it was story like enough to post lol #could talk for ages about my esmp thought rip

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beyondthegame · 8 months

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hello mila, hope september has started on a good note for you!! may i please have "always giving the utmost attention to the other if they are in a crowd" or "associating random things with them" for n (i swear i do love the other ros, e being a close second to n, but yeah…) also the results of the poll? 👀

It’s typical that you and N would end up at an event where you don’t know anyone but each other. It was pretty hard not to be drawn to each other, there’s only so much mingling you can do.

“I assume you got an invite to this thing last week too?” you say as you join N’s side. You watch them visibly stiffen, they’re probably looking for an escape. But, where on earth would they be able to find one in an almost crowded, fancy room?

“I did.” They take a long swig of their drink before scoffing. “I’m only staying for another half hour, anyway.”

You turn to them. It’s not like N isn’t dressed for today, if your relationship with them was better, you’d probably throw a sweet compliment their way. Say that they’ve cleaned up nice. Or maybe say they look gorgeous.

You snort a little. “Not having a good time?”

N’s brows furrow. “Forgive me for not wanting to spend my evening rubbing shoulders with people I don’t know.” They then glance towards you. “Or people I don’t like.”

Your jaw clenches. “It seems like you get off on that. Throwing insults in my direction when your self-esteem feels threatened,” you say. “It’s pretty shit really.”

“It’s your own fault,” N spits.

“Hm, like everything in your fucking life as you like to constantly remind me,” you counter.

“No, this really is your fault,” N says with venom in their voice as they place their glass down. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

You blink rapidly. “Don’t be an ass and keep me in suspense. Enlighten me.”

“This whole event was set up by the football academy you and I went to when we were kids,” N admits. “The same football academy that always used to pit us against each other.”

That’s a detail you brushed over without a care in the world. But it makes sense as to why N’s here now. It seems that the reason you and N aren’t close is always brought up when then two of you are in each other’s presence.

“It’s a fucking joke,” they murmur. “Almost everything here reminds me of you. Even the stupid colour scheme,” N says with anger to their tone. “The colours are red and green, and half the time as kids we were playing football with odd coloured socks.”

Your eyes quickly scan N’s features, and behind the anger and the detest, you can see genuine… longing.

“All of that really reminds you of me?” you ask quietly.

N takes a step forwards and goes to leave, but not without muttering the answer, “Unfortunately.”

#drabble #n tallon #I also don’t know the poll results because tumblr doesn’t let me check unless I vote #and I don’t want to mess up the vote so who’s winning? 👀#ri ✨

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sainamoonshine · 2 months

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Okay so I have watched like, three Avatar live action episodes so far and here are some quick thoughts on it. (Spoiler alert this is a positive post, negativity DNA unless you want to make me sad)

- Right off the bat it should be noted that my standards for good tv / movies are pretty low these days. Due to the general state of tv / movies, I have been forced to place the bar of acceptability at « I can see what is happening on the screen and the character’s costumes have colours ». NATLA passes both criterias with flying — well, colours.

- Secondly I actually like the way the show handles the character arcs. I feel like people who are complaining just noticed that they changed or toned down some aspects of the character arcs, and were so angry that they straight up stopped paying attention instead of noticing all the new and nuanced things that were added in. Every character is getting an interesting and intriguing storyline, they just don’t look exactly the same as in the original. If that makes you froth at the mouth, may I suggest not watching any adaptation ever maybe? Because huh that’s kind of what adaptations do.

- Unfortunately the pacing is kinda clunky and some of the dialogue is irritating, especially the recurrent thing where a character who would usually prefer to die before speaking about their feelings — or wouldn’t have the emotional maturity to even realize what they are feeling — just turn to the camera and loudly announce « I am feeling this thing! ». However, those two issues are obviously a result of not enough episodes. They had to cram A LOT in eight episodes and that is Netflix’s fault, not the showrunner’s. With eight episodes they basically had the choice between not having the time to properly « show not tell » and therefore having to cut out the character’s more subtle emotional states entirely, or try to work in conversations and monologues in which the characters just straight up say things to each other. So you get Aang telling Appa he’s scared of being the avatar and Zuko actually admitting out loud that he has hope that he might get to go home. It is what it is.

- They clearly ran out of money for wigs tho. Gran-gran’s wig is horrendous and the only thing I cannot forgive.

- Aside from some clunky pacing and gran-gran’s wig tho, everything else has slapped so far. Sokka is PERFECT. Suki was great too. Sad that they didn’t put Sokka in the full Kyoshi warrior getup but it does create an unintentionally hilarious moment where the kyoshi people are all like « um no we don’t have any outsiders in our village, no sir mister fire soldier » and meanwhile this idiot is just standing there all dressed in BLUE

- Aang is also perfect. Zuko is perfect. Katara is doing that thing where you bottle up all your anger inside and never make it anyone else’s problem and just keep smiling and being nice and polite and then you die, which unfortunately seems to make people think she just has no anger? Lmao okay.

- the cgi was hit and miss in the first episode but then got a lot better

- the fight choreographies are ON POINT OMG

- I didn’t remember why I didn’t like Jet (forgor most of his arc in the show) but just remembered I didn’t like him, which made for an interesting ep 3 viewing experience lol

- also Kevin from supernatural?????

- would prefer it if my husband stopped saying « okay Anakin! 🙄 » every time someone gets set on fire but I think that might just be an issue in my household

#natla #natla spoilers #atla netflix #avatar netflix #positivity tag #mature and respectful discussion tag

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kiasnocturnality · 2 months

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⋆ :₊ ᥫ᭡ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒖

⊹ ° . tips: be sure to only begin your play-through from the main menu. Your choices have consequences and will unlock different scenes and endings.

The man in front of you visibly bristles when you refuse to allow him to search you. Why would you? His jaw clenches for a moment before he bites the inside of his cheek in thought. He seems even more suspicious of you than before now. You have nothing to hide but you don’t know what he’s hiding either and you’re not about to gamble your life on him being a harmless but cautious man after everything that’s happened already.

“Very well, you can use the telephone. Though, I’m still your host and I would feel a terrible gentleman if you left you in this state. I’ll have the staff prepare a change of clothes and meal for you. Come along.” His tone is prickly, almost haughty. He clearly is not fond of you but nor are you of him. He beckons you with a wave of his hand as he goes out through another door and begins leading you through the manor’s hallways.

You walk in silence until he brings you to the dining room. He turns back to face you and looks you up and down, examining how your clothes occasionally drip and are so soaked they’re clinging to you like a second skin.

“Can I offer you a change of clothes?” He offers. You don’t trust him but you’re also freezing and drenched and a change of clothes couldn’t hurt. It seems like an unusual pretence if he wants to attack you: surely he would do it right now if he attends to finish you with brute force?

“That would be very nice, thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement of your decision. The mysterious man then goes over to one side of the room where he rings a bell and the nearest door cracks open. You cannot see who is behind it but you catch whispers of a hushed conversation.

“-Prepare… tonight… perhaps… clothes too.” From Alois.

“-Hunter then?” A mature female voice replies.

“-Sure as of yet… telefone… mess… up, ok?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Spoken much more clearly. Obviously, the rest of the conversation was kept from you on purpose. The woman, approaching her middle-ages, steps out, dressed in a simple black and white uniform with blouse and fitted trousers.

“Come along, my Lady, you’re soaked through. We’ll have a change of clothes prepared for you immediately.” She says. You give a little nod and follow her, wanting out of your wet clothes. Alois is proving himself to be more trustworthy and you hope that you’re doing the same in his eyes. The maid has faded red hair that fades to darker roots that show she likely had it a bright red colour not too long ago and is now trying to grow it out. She leads you to a guest room and opens the wardrobe where she pulls out a few shirts and bottoms, trying to find clothing in your size, if the way her eyes flicker from you to the material is anything to go by. She presents you with a simple dark blue jumper and black bottoms.

“And your shoes, please.”

“My shoes?”

“Yes, they’re making quite the mess around the manor.”

“Oh… of course. Sorry.” You slip them off and watch as she picks them up and exchanges them for a pair of socks passed into your hands. You change into them and follow her back to the dining room where the white-haired man is sitting at the head of the table. There’s a bowl of soup and bread prepared at the seat he had directed you to earlier. When you sit, he gestures to the food.

“Forgive me but I’ve already eaten.” He says and you give a simple nod, swallowing thickly as you recall the glass of blood you found at his seat not that long ago. You glance down at the orange-red tomato soup and the little garnish set in the middle of it, sliced bread and butter on a little side dish nearby.

⋆ :₊ ᥫ᭡ “This is very generous, thank you.” ⋆ :₊ ᥫ᭡ “I actually ate shortly before the crash too…” You refuse to eat the food, it could be poisoned.

#ᥫ᭡⋆ :₊ 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐 : 𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒄 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒄𝒚 (P2B) 🦇

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cacklingblobbittyrabbitty · 1 year

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super unhinged rainbow magic post 10 of 12

I was a music kid so I have a lot of opinons about instruments and Vibes, they may not be correct but here they are, also small lil backstory shit will be mixed in here muahahaha

MUSIC FAIRIES

hurray no necklaces!

Poppy That is some amazing hair! FEDORA ALERT BABEY Painfully 2000s - KELSI FROM HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL She 1000% borrowed the waistcoat from Tasha (tap dance fairy) Needs a shirt underneath tho cos Poppy is not as confident as Tasha That being said the chosen shirt is a Disgusting colour (what’s wrong with white bruh louise the lily fairy had the same problem) I appreciate that belt resembles a stave, but i don’t LIKE it LOW WAISTED FLARESSSSS ARE BACK WOOHOOOO This should be a black and white ensemble to complement the vibrancy of her hair

Ellie Has just graduated from acoustic to electric, she’s slightly scared of it lmao, but she eventually will buy a midnight blue guitar and her whole vibe is gonna end up being a lil bit darker Top half shows she started playing acoustic - the shrug cardigan and sparkly stripy top have primary school vibes I’m sorry Bottom half is brilliant and ready and raring to go - Doc Martens, tights, poofy petticoated skater skirt That bisexual bob is a new haircut - currently she hasn’t figured out she’s bi but she’ll work it out soon - there is one girl and one boy that play bass guitar in the band and she’s gonna look at them and go oh shit

Fiona Sandals with ballet straps! BADDEST of bad bitches Colour scheme is gorgeous! The silver and blue work so well, I especially love the blue-black dreads Belt is so 2000s it hurts but she is WORKING IT This is exactly how i thought she was gonna look Really really cute outfit well done best one yet No necklace HURRAY Bit worried about where her wand is but we reckon she tucks it into her ballet ribbons

Oh Danni, Danni, Danni 1) the background is weirdly christmassy and i don’t like it 2) why is the outfit Like That? she’s a solar pannelled bitch - she wishes it was solar punk but it’s not, plus the 3/4 length leggings are too short 3) why is the hair Like That? the colour, the style, UGH This is not gay enough for a percussionist of the female persuasion! She’s better than that shitty little drum kit and her drumsticks are too damn short FIX HER Band shirt, flannel, skinny jeans, doc martens, solar panel belt Messy high ponytail, no fringe, wand tucked behind ear/into ponytail Full drum kit (bass, three cymbals, two snares and a tom tom) and a timpanny, a tambourine (dancing queeeeeeeeeen), and a vibraslap in the background with normal-sized drumsticks

Maya 70s groovy I like her hair but not the headband I can’t decide whether or not i like the dress, it’s giving weird kooky music teacher vibes - I love the colour scheme tho Her shoes are really cute! That’s not a big enough harp for her, we are so disappointed - we’ve stopped being one person so we can double our disappointment It’s not even pretty it’s ugly as fuck You gotta be elegant to play the harp babe i’m sorry You are groovy - you gotta have a sexy instrument! I’d give her a trombone of a french horn for some lower brass representation but she could also absolutely pull off a sax or a clarinet

Victoria SHE DOESN’T PLAY THE VIOLIN SHE PLAYS THE FIDDLE she’s a country bitch and she plays on the taylor swift song ‘mean’ She knows exactly who she is and she’s rocking itttttt Alexander Rybak was in love with THIS fairytale FINALLY SHE’S ACTIVELY USING HER WAND TO PLAY THE INSTRUMENT We finally understood the assignment bitches Sweepy fringe? Streaks of purple? Shoulder length messy? BEAUTIFUL The 2000s have been condensed into this outfit - I weirdly like it tho The embroidery on the jeans is my fave part Colour of the boots is questionable at best but forgivable cos she’s a hoedown throwdown queen

We were on such a high with Victoria :(

Sadie That is an oddly proportioned sax (alto? Soprano? Who fuckin knows) Colour of hair is yuck make it darker Headband is… a choice I don’t like the green but the turquoise and blue colours are cute ig? Dress is cute! Triple layer colour changing skirt! Cardigan looks fuckin RAGGED bruh, what is it meant to be? An artistic interpretation of a treble clef??? HUHHHH also it’s ugly I do quite like the boots it has to be said even though, once again, white boots on principle? Nein She does have the weird girl woodwind vibes so well done ig FIX HER Darker hair with a wispy side fringe (like Victoria) NO FUCKING CARDIGAN, a demin jacket instead (navy or black) with gold sparkle embroidery Make the dress all blue, going from dark to lighter I want her to have Helena’s (horseriding fairy) sparkly boots but in navy and gold

#rainbow magic #rainbow magic fairies #music fairies

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period-dramallama · 2 years

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Becoming Elizabeth review: episode 1

TLDR: I have my criticisms but honestly?? i love

+ Henry’s coffin is opened and the subtitle ‘King Henry VIII is dead’ comes up. Really?? He’s dead?? I thought we were opening the coffin of a different obese dead guy???

+ Henry’s a mummy we don’t even see his face or his funeral. Power move from Anya Reiss right there, given what she’s said about the mid Tudor crisis being more interesting than Henry and the wives.

+ The subtitles are electric blue?? I guess they need to stand out against the different colours but electric blue??

+ The black work! On the sleeves! *cries with joy*

+ Mary and Edward are introduced with their names and religion but Elizabeth’s religion isn’t named....guys she’s not an atheist...

+ I was excited for the opening credits because I had no idea what designs they’d go for but I love them!

+ I can forgive Kat calling Elizabeth princess- because in her eyes perhaps her little Elizabeth IS a princess and always has been- but the show keeps calling her princess until the end of the ep when she’s Lady Elizabeth. PICK ONE.

+ Edward Seymour is so RUDE

+ Elizabeth is surprised no one is grieving her dad, i find that a stretch

+ Does Kat really think Katherine is grieving Henry?? Does she??

+ “the queen will be grieving” cut to Katherine banging Seymour. COMEDY.

+ I don’t want to KNOW how seymour stans reacted to the ass shot.

+ Tommy S asking Katherine questions about how she and Henry had sex... DESGOSTANG MAN.

+ Tommy S not even getting dressed before going up to servants and demanding “drink”. No clothes, no please, no thank you.

+ I would just like to take a moment to stress how rude that is of Tommy S: nudity was a big deal to the Tudors.

+ “washerwomen run households at your age not princesses” NO THEY DIDN’T! lowborn girls of 13 would be in other people’s households as servants! They wouldn’t have the MONEY to run a household!

+ Why is it a surprise to Elizabeth that Katherine takes her in?? It would be the obvious and predictable thing?? Because Katherine is her mother?? Has been her mother for over 3 years??

+ “I can be your mother” YOU HAVE BEEN HER MOTHER. YOU’RE ALREADY CLOSE.

+ “your father and my husband” oof that line is clunky

+ Tommy S sent out of the council chamber... comedy gold. SIT ON THE NAUGHTY STEP WITH HENRY GREY TOMMY

+ The tapestries! The wood panelling! I had to pause it was so beautiful! What did i do?? to deserve these visuals?? i am blessed

+ “what lesson am I?” in the business we call this FORESHADOWING

+ Edward might be my favourite character in this. “She’s FIVE and she’s SCOTTISH”

+ “i am the fucking king!” Missed opportunity here: Somerset should have said “who told you that word?!”

+ Elizabeth having few memories of Henry VIII... a nice touch.

+ I think it’s good to emphasise her fatherlessness because it shows how Seymour can abuse her easily: she doesn’t know what appropriate ‘fatherly behaviour’ looks like.

+ Tommy S talking about history and kings and memories... Worst Person You Know Made A Good Point.

+ the New Years gift is mentioned! but not Elizabeth’s language skills. C’mon Anya, don’t let Elizabeth’s nerdery just be window dressing.

+ “never stopped that family before...” PLEASE give us more sassy priest. Make him Cranmer. PLEASE ANYA.

+ Okay, so I have a bone to pick with the depiction of warfare: where are the guns? The arquebusiers? The hats? Why is it so medieval? Where are the formations?? Why is everyone fighting in single combat? Single combat is THE most dangerous way for a soldier to fight. THAT IS WHY THEY GOT INTO FORMATIONS!

+ Edward the new Josiah *chef’s kiss* the historical details i live for.

#becoming elizabeth #becoming elizabeth spoilers

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insidereagan · 2 years

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heyyy! i don’t really know how to start this but this is partially inspired by a post from @overgore where he talked about the possibility of jr using the holochanmber as a way to say everything he wanted to say to rand at tamiko a wedding but couldn’t and idk i felt like writing a fic inspired by that :]

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/71jjC4TICsr9wqN4z81njf?si=Z_xyV-OoRea6LcsR2qmKMg i wrote this while listening to this playlist i made so its here if you wanna listen to it while reading :)

if i like this i might publish this on my ao3 (@cxpher) but ive already written 2 jrand fics on so idk haha.

this is angst/no comfort btw!

forever hold your silence

Jr knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew he should just get help to help him unpack his years of trauma instead of reliving the same moment in his life over and over again. It wasn’t healthy, and he fucking knew that. But he couldn’t really do anything about it.

I mean, how would he be able to explain the fact that he runs a company that owns a large room that allows him to simulate himself into practically any scenario he wants without saying that said company is secretly running the world and is watching your every move? And Jr would rather die the most gruesome death imaginable than tell anyone outside of Cognito about his career. He was a rich CEO, and that’s all anyone really needed to know about him.

So Jr didn’t have any choice but to creek down Cognitos winding staircase late at night, dressed in his dark grey tux, white blouse and granite-coloured tie, the same outfit he wore to rand’s actual wedding, 40 years ago. He set the simulation to the wedding, took a deep breath, and for what was most likely the millionth time, entered the world that engulfed his thoughts since it happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. No matter how much he tried to distract himself with golf, retail therapy, and sleeping with rich ladies, he was filled with regret. He fell in love with Rand (A/N: no idea why he’d actually fall in love with rand but,, y’know,) almost the day they met, and this was his last chance to admit it. And he’d fucked up, chickened out at the last minute, and now he was pretty sure he’d never forgive himself. If he was honest, half the reason he fired Rand was because Jr couldn’t even bare to look at him. He didn’t know if it was out of spite, jealousy, regret, or all of the above, but he just couldn’t. So, he fired rand., God, what he’d do to go back in time to when his only problem was trying to hide his crush on his business partner.

Jr knew he’d spend over half of his life in that goddamn chamber reliving the same 2 hours of his life, saying everything he wished to say to Rand before, but never got the chance to, but there was no way anyone could really do anything. He couldn’t change the past, but he could relive it, even if it was through rose-tinted glasses, and false hope like neon in a glass. Because Jr needed to accept the fact that he’ll never be able to truly relive that moment. Only recreate it with pipe dream fantasies from his own mind. This addiction was slowly killing him. But was the only thing that made him feel alive.

Jr knew this wasn’t healthy. He knew he should just get help to help him unpack his years of trauma instead of reliving the same moment in his life over and over again. He didn’t want to do this. But Jr Scheimpough had no choice but to enter the chamber nightly, while the rest of D.C was sleeping, to reminisce and mourn the one moment in his life he thought he deserved to get a second chance at.

a/n: hellooo, sorry this was so sad haha, but i hope you like it !

#inside job #reagan ridley #brett hand #gigi thompson #andre lee #magic myc #glenn dolphman #inside job reagan #inside job brett #rand ridley x jr scheimpough #jrand #jr scheimpough #rand ridley #jr scheimpough x rand ridley

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crazyztrain · 2 years

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Mystogan x Reader (Fairy Tail) Chapter 4

Mystogan's POV

Sitting on my bed I watched the sun rise, wrapped in dawn's colourful display. After going to bed early yesterday I woke up early but well rested. The same couldn't be said about Y/N. Not a single sound has left her room since last night, indicating that she was probably still asleep.

So I took my time showering and getting ready. When it was past eight and there was still no sign from my new partner, I grew worried. And so I knocked on the adjoining door only to receive no response. My hand reached the door knob before distancing itself again. This went back and forth as my though spiralled. Hoping that Y/N would forgive my invading her privacy, I finally opened the door. What greeted me was the sight of sprawled out on her bed, the covers only half shielding my view from her delicate form. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully and so I closed the door and went down to get breakfast instead.

When I came back, the door to Y/N's room was open and granting me view of her pacing about the room. In her nightgown no less. Luckily she was also wearing some kind of overcoat.

"Good morning", I greeted but it came out sounding like a question.

A shriek left Y/N's lips as she turned around so abruptly she lost her balance and stumbled over her travel bag. Instinctively I reached out and she fell into my arms.

"Is everything okay?", I asked while steadying Y/N.

Her eyes shot up to me. "You're safe!"

I blinked, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I woke up and your room was empty, I was afraid something happened to you", she exclaimed and a blush crept onto her cheeks as she realized the misconception. My face also started to heat up but for a completely different reason. I noticed my hands still on her shoulder and arm, so I moved them up to ruffle Y/N's hair before averting my gaze. "I just went down for breakfast since there was no telling when you would wake up, sleepyhead."

Y/N's face started to awfully resemble Erza's hair colour. "I have a deep sleep! Just wake me up when we need to get ready next time", she stuttered.

"Okay, I will. I brought you some breakfast from downstairs", I motioned to the paper bag on the table, "Why don't you get dressed and have a bite before we go out?"

Y/N hummed in response and disappeared into the bathroom. While I waited in my room I couldn't help but notice how awfully sweet it felt for Y/N to worry about me like that. I've been working alone for so long, there hasn't been anyone to worry about me really.

She didn't take long to get ready and eat her breakfast and so we soon left to scout the town. After seeing the reaction of the bakery worker yesterday, Y/N deemed it best to dress casual and less like a guild mage. She wore a cute winter dress with the thigh high boots and hat to complete the look.

In the little time I've known her I couldn't help but notice that she looks good in anything really. Beautiful even. Pushing such thoughts aside I suggested that we gather information separately and meet up again later. Since Y/N already put effort into blending in and looking approachable, she will probably have more luck without me. Admittedly my appearance doesn't exactly strike trust in the hearts of regular citizens.

"Will you be alright by yourself?", I furrowed my brows at Y/N.

"Don't worry. As promised, I won't stray too far, won't go anywhere shady and will stay in public places with lots of people around", she snickered as she used her fingers to recite all rules I previously established.

I watched Y/N disappear into the busy streets, before making my way to my first destination.

Before long I was made painfully aware that all attempts to get intel on the dark mages were just as unsuccessful as yesterdays's encounter at the bakery. I've been to a blacksmith, three pubs and even a magical device store but none of the citizens would reveal any information. The people would always evade the question about any dark mages, only advising me to beware of the mountains behind the borders. At least I found out that there is an adventurers guid hall a few streets ahead. Independent mages and mercenaries get their jobs and intelligence from there.

Inside the building I first went to the mission board and noticed that although there seem to be monsters lurking in the mountains, none of the quests ask for them to be slayed or driven away. At the bar counter I was able to strike a conversation with a few adventurers and mages. However, when I brought up the topic of the monsters and dark mages everyone once again shut down and gave only vague answers, if any.

Letting out a sigh I left the building but was abruptly grabbed by my collar and pulled into the next alley. It was dark and narrow, so I couldn't see the man's face very well but he seemed to be an elderly man, perhaps a past adventurer even, judging by the appearance. Multiple scars littered his skin and the man still wore a leather belt with a small sword attached.

"Asking around town won't get you anywhere. Are you a mage?", the man ushered, keeping his voice down. He let go of me and stared at me intensely.

"Yes, I'm from Fairy Tail. Can you tell me anything about the situation here then?", I asked hurriedly, afraid he might change his mind.

"I can. But first, do you think you're up to it? It's going to be dangerous and if you're just gonna get yourself killed you better go back while you still can", the man grumbled.

"Do not worry. My partner and I are here to take down all monsters and and the dark guild. Last week I took out a dark guild in the west but it turned out to be part of a guild network. I believe another guild division to be quatered here", explained calmly and the man seemed to relax slightly.

"I'm sure you already know about the monsters roaming the mountain side. But those aren't regular monsters, it's almost as if they are commanded by mages..", and so the man explained the situation to me in detail. I didn't even get his name or the chance to express my gratitude. As soon as he finished speaking he left as abruptly as he appeared.

Checking the clock I noticed that it is about time to meet up with Y/N again and got on my way.

Chapter 5

#mystogan #mystogan imagine #mystogan x reader #Mystogan Fernandes #mystoganxreader #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail imagine #fairy tail x reader #fairytailxreaderinsert #mystoganxreaderinsert #mystoganxreaderimagine #fairy tail mystogan #mystogan fernandes imagine

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doctornolonger · 2 years

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Farewell

Helen Fayle’s stand-alone sequel to Mags L. Halliday’s lost story “Even Roses Die”. It’s part of the Book of Taliesin “apocrypha”. I don’t intend to post the rest of the Book of Taliesin series on this blog, but this story thematically concludes the “Nine Queens” / “Listen, Learn, Read On” trilogy.

“The bottom line is, whatever I said about saving the world, the real reason I wanted to see the universe was because I thought it was bright and funny and exciting. I was like a six-year-old who’d been let loose on the galaxy. And so was Sarah. That was Sarah exactly.”

Her voice had caught as she’d said the last words, and she stepped down off the podium hurriedly, lest the tears show too soon. Damn it, she was supposed to be stronger than this, wasn’t she?

But you don’t say goodbye to your best friend every day.

She might have seen the couple for the first time then, as she made her way out of the hall, towards the car that would take her to the wake. They might have been standing at the doors when she left: She had a vague memory later of that: A tall slim man with a neat beard and long red hair, dressed in a long black duster, standing with a petite brunette woman with waist length hair, and a surprisingly familiar smile.

Might have. She didn’t remember.

But she saw them again whilst making the usual noises at the wake. Shaking hands, so sad, yes, I’d known her for years, nice to meet you.

They didn’t mix with the rest of the guests – didn’t even look as if they belonged, somehow.

And there really was something familiar about them both, even though they were perfect strangers to her.

Never one to just sit down and let these things pass by, Sam Jones walked over to the couple.

“Hi, were you friends of Sarah’s?” she asked. She stuck her hand out. “Sam Jones.”

“Vivienne,” the woman replied, with a smile. She shook Sam’s hand firmly. “And my friend here is Taliesin.”

Sam took his offered hand, and took a good look at him, wishing for a moment she was a good ten years younger. He had, she thought, the most drop dead gorgeous come to bed eyes… Pale green, they seemed to draw her in…

…so familiar… yet not.

“Forgive us, we didn’t want to intrude.”

Sam dragged her gaze back to the woman – Vivienne?

Familiar hazel eyes, that easy grin, set in a heart shaped face…

“Are you a relative of Sarah’s?” she asked.

Vivienne smiled. “Distantly, you could say.”

That explained it, thought Sam.

“Quite a turn out,” said the man, looking around.

“She was popular,” Sam said quietly. “Even if she did tread on a lot of toes doing her job.”

“They didn’t find a body, did they?”

His voice, Sam thought, was so pleasant. Soft, seductive, yet so intense.

“No.” Tears pricked her eyes. She’d been dying, that much had been certain. The whole thing was still a mystery.

They’d found a battered copy of the Morte d’Artur on the bedside table, next to a small bunch of roses. But no sign of Sarah…

She’d wondered, sometimes, if maybe…

Taliesin reached out a long fingered hand and cupped her chin. “Everything comes to an end sometimes. That's the nature of the tale.” Bending forward, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “But sometimes, there is another volume. Remember that.”

She wasn’t sure why she allowed him to be so familiar. But somehow, it seemed – well, right. The woman took her hand again, in a gesture of farewell, then kissed her cheek.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

Then they were gone, leaving only a memory, and a scent of roses.

Afterwards, when the guests had gone, she sat for a while amidst the detritus – paper plates, half empty wine glasses, the occasional vol au vont stuck to the parquet floor – and remembered.

A small flash of colour caught her eye, and she bent down for a closer look. A playing card, she thaught at first – but no, this was larger. She picked it up.

The back had a design of Celtic knotwork on it, in green and white. Turning it over, she revealed the design to be the thirteenth card from the Major Arcana of the Tarot deck. Death. Only this one was a red robed figure, holding a scythe, standing in front of a white rose, outlined very delicately.

“From the Robin Wood deck,” said a voice from behind her. Sam turned, and saw Maguire. The older woman took the card from her. “Nice deck. If a bit kinky in places. You should see ‘The Lovers’.”

“A sick joke if someone left this here,” Sam said shortly. Maguire shrugged.

“Depends. In traditional tarot circles, the card symbolises change – a drastic rebirth or cutting free from the past.” She put her arm around Sam. “Come on, let's go home.”

Sam placed her arm around Maguire, and left the hall, the card falling unfelt from her fingers, lying face up in the shadow of the open doorway.

Original notes: Apologies to Lawrence Miles for the opening paragraph, which is quoted from Interference, and a thank you to Susannah Tiller for the use of Jacqueline Maguire.

#for archiving purposes #only #no copyright infringement intended #the book of taliesin #helen fayle #sam jones #interference #Sarah Jane Smith #archival

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