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quicksandblock · 3 years

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MCYT Demographic Survey Part 2 RESULTS

IT’S TIME!!!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who participated! 1,654 people total responded to this - about four and a half times as many respondents as the first survey. It’s honestly incredible. I’m so happy the rest of you are as interested as I am in this stuff :D

The increased turnout is also why these results are being posted two days later than I’d intended. I want to give a HUGE thank you to my friend @quincepastey and my sibling @orestes-swimming for helping me out, and by helping I do mean they did basically all of the technical stuff for me, because my knowledge of spreadsheets was not up to the task. So thank you to Cupid for organizing all the data from questions 3 and 4 into something comprehensible for me, and thank you to Kal for making the charts! They are absolutely the MVPs and everyone reading this should go check them out. Thank you guys so much <3

Reblogs of this post are very appreciated. It would be awesome if the info about the results could reach everyone who submitted a response, so if you reblogged my first post about this survey, please consider reblogging this one as well!

For your convenience, here’s a link to the results of the first survey I did six months ago. Now - on to the results!

Question 1: What is your age range?

Compared to the results of the first survey, we can see that things have changed a bit! Specifically, the fandom has shifted just a little bit older. The solid majority of the fandom is still in the 15-17 year old range, but it’s gone down from almost half to closer to 40%. Almost a third of the fandom are ages 18-20, up from close to a fifth six months ago. 21-25 year olds have increased from about 10% to about 14%. And the youngest segment, 13-14 year olds, have gone from almost 20% of the fandom down to 12% - the sharpest change of all.

Finally, nearest and dearest to my own heart, there are now 26 whole people in the fandom aged 26-30 and 9 people aged 30+. Old Squad is growing, folks. We are... the 2% 😎 Special shoutout to the person who said their 15 year old kid got them into the fandom. I hope you know just how cool you are.

These results are interesting, but it’s also impossible to say how accurate the data is. This survey and the previous one were only posted on my blog, and they only reached a wider audience through the reblogs of my followers. So do these changes reflect actual changes in the demographics of the fandom as a whole, or is it just that my followers (and the people who follow them) have shifted older? To try to avoid this bias in the future, I may reach out to some well-known younger bloggers and ask them to reblog the next survey I do so that I can reach a more even audience.

Question 2: What is your gender?

Apologies for the small text, but there were so many unique write-in answers that I wanted to include them all. You may want to open the image in a separate tab for better quality.

In contrast to the age question, the gender spread of the fandom has remained pretty much the same. About half the fandom is still female, the nonbinary crowd has increased from 20% to 25%, 7% of us are male, almost 7% are genderfluid, and about 5% are agender. Just like last time, most of the write-in responses fell into the vague categories of either genderqueer or questioning.

No surprises on this one! The fandom continues to be overwhelmingly female and queer. Next time I think I’ll include genderqueer and questioning as options to try to catch some of those people into a formal category. All y’all are so valid, especially the person who wrote in their gender as “soup” <3

The results for questions 3 and 4 will be under a cut, because I don’t want to completely destroy people’s dashes.

Before I get into the last two questions, a couple notes. First, I want to explain how I came up with the list of creators, since a lot of people were either excited or disappointed by the fact that a few different people were on there.

On the last survey, this question was a write-in, and I had to transcribe and collate all the answers by hand to come up with the actual number of people who followed each creator. For this survey, I simply took the list that came out of the previous one and pasted it in! I also added a few people who no one wrote in six months ago but who are much more prominent now (Ranboo being the biggest example). So if you were excited to see your favorite small creator listed as an option, they were there because someone wrote them in last time! And if you wrote in your favorite small creator here, they’ll be an option on the next survey. The list is entirely crowdsourced and it will expand with each survey.

That said, the same also applies for more controversial creators. Specifically, I’m talking about CallMeCarson. Several people questioned my decision to keep him on the list - and to be honest, I considered taking him out. But in the end I decided to leave him in as an option for the sake of completeness and consistency with the previous survey. I want to emphasize that this is not me condoning his actions. But for the sake of the data, I felt that it was best to leave him in.

That said, let’s move on to questions 3 and 4!

Question 3: What creator(s) do you primarily follow?

So, it’s harder to compare with the previous survey on this one, and that’s purely because on the previous survey I didn’t have the help I did here. The chart I was able to make for the results back in October was frankly trash. Also, the fact that I split “followed creators” into two questions - primarily and casually followed - definitely throws things off. However, we can still do a certain amount of comparison!

The most obvious change is Ranboo. He straight up was not on the previous survey at all - I think he’d been streaming for less than a month at the time. Now, about 55% of respondents listed him as someone they primarily follow. The Dream SMP itself has also jumped dramatically. Previously, about 5% of people wrote in Dream SMP. That has increased to over half. Quackity has gone from less than 2% to about 30%. Karl has gone from 4% to 30%. Phil has gone from about 8% to a little under 50%. The SBI have jumped from 11% to over 40%.

Techno has gone from about 50% to over 60%. Tommy has gone from 45% to over 55%. Wilbur has jumped from 43% to 55%. Tubbo has remained steady at about 38%.

Dream has apparently dropped some of his following percentage-wise, falling from 50% to about 35%. However, George, Sapnap, and the Dream Team itself have all jumped from 10-12% to almost 30%.

I’m not going to go over the rest of the list, because that would just get way too long. However, I will drop a link to the spreadsheets of data for this survey and the previous one, so anyone who wants to can do some comparison of their own!

Question 4: What creators do you casually follow?

I won’t do as detailed of a comparison on this question, because there’s nothing to compare it to - this question wasn’t on the previous survey. However, it’s interesting to see how many more people follow Fundy, Nihachu, BadBoyHalo, Captain Puffy, Eret, Awesamdude, and Jack Manifold casually rather than as a primary favorite. Out of the top twelve, Karl, Quackity, Phil, and Tubbo are the only ones who don’t have a major discrepancy between the amount of people who follow them casually versus primarily.

I would be curious to hear people’s thoughts on why that’s the case! Personally, I would guess it’s a combination of each of their approaches to lore on the Dream SMP, the frequency and times of day that they stream, and the people they tend to make content with and be associated with by the fandom. I may go into that more later, but this post is already very long, so I’ll hold off for now. Here’s a link to this question’s spreadsheet for anyone who wants to take a closer look!

...And that’s a wrap! Good grief, this got long. Kudos to anyone who actually read the whole thing because I know my attention span would be challenged. I’m already thinking about the next survey - a couple people suggested that I add in questions about orientation and nationality, and while I want to keep the survey pretty tight in its scope, I am considering it. It would be even more data to process but it would be interesting to know!

I would love to hear people’s thoughts on these results! I’m only one person, so I know there’s interesting stuff I must have missed. Please, please feel free to reblog with your thoughts and observations! A lot of work went into this (both from me and from Cupid and Kal! Thank you guys again!), so I’m really hoping to hear what people think about it :D

I plan to reblog this and reply to some of the things people wrote in at the end, so stay tuned for that. And once again: thank you all for your interest in this project of mine <3 See you with another one in six months!

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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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do you have any lukanette ideas with chat/adrien salt? the newest episode reignited my annoyance towards him and his stans acting like he didn’t do anything wrong is not helping. i mean, flirting with ladybug while he’s dating kagami? getting excited over a possible akumatization?? and since i know that behavior won’t be addressed bc adrien is “perfect” and “the love square is endgame” therefore he gets a pass for any bad behavior, i was hoping for some fanmade salt (and lukanette is always a great addition to any story)

I can appreciate how starved you guys are to hear me salt on this blog.

But yeah, I came up with something considering that quite a bit of Chat’s behavior happens before Truth appears in “Lies.”

So hear me out--

Truth is a threat, considering that Luka is the only hero outside of Ladybug intended to be a planner. All others take orders directly from Ladybug herself, but Viperion could plan on his own.

This means that Truth realizes quickly that his strategy of asking for the heroes’ identities isn’t going to work because they’ll shout over him every time. He has to get creative and comes up with the idea to divide the heroes.

He comments on their teamwork, perhaps saying vaguely about how their teamwork can’t outmatch his and Pharo’s. Chat obviously takes the bait, talking on and on about how he and Ladybug are the best team and that they’re made for each other.

“Really?” Truth asks casually. “You’ve never done anything against her?”

Chat Noir responds, his white lips moving to say, “Of course I have!”

Ladybug gapes, and Chat looks calm for a second before his eyes immediately widen in panic.

He tries to say that it’s not what he means, but Truth’s power is active, so he just blurts out, “That’s exactly what I mean!”

He tries to cover his mouth with his non-Cataclysm hand, but gets shot by Pharo.

“I told Theo Barbot that we were dating and it got him akumatized!”

“You did what?!” Ladybug asks, having never heard this before.

Chat doesn’t stop - he can’t - and his mouth keeps moving. He admits that he sacrifices himself because he knows it won’t matter since Ladybug will fix it, and it means he’ll always leave an impression on her. He admits that he didn’t care when Nadja or Alya were egging on the LadyNoir ship because he feels like Ladybug will come around eventually. He admits that he doesn’t take her seriously when she goes off on him because “she’s cute when she’s angry.” He admits that he wanted an akuma to happen even though he knew Ladybug was busy, just because he wanted to spend time with her. He admits to telling his kwami he’d quit while Paris was underwater if he didn’t spill what Ladybug was hiding.

Honestly, even Truth at this point is like, “man I wanted to divide your teamwork, not your entire relationship.”

Ladybug eventually manages to snap out of her trance and deal with the whole situation (mostly by herself), but the damage is done. Even after the akuma has been purified and Truth turns back into Luka, Chat’s words linger and Ladybug ignores him.

“Are you okay, Luka?”

“Huh? Ah, yeah, thanks...”

Chat is awkwardly standing nearby, his tail in both hands as he fiddles with it. “So--ah... Bugaboo--”

“Don’t,” Ladybug cuts in, not even looking at him. “Is that why you use that nickname when I’m mad? To butter me up? Try to earn points? Do you think it’s funny?”

“No, no!” He waves his hands frantically. “It’s not--”

“See, the thing is that now I won’t know whether you’re lying or not,” she points out, the situation feeling all to familiar to when Tikki lied to her, only this was worse. She honestly wanted to trust Chat Noir; he was her partner, irreplaceable in the sense that he was there from the start.

But maybe not irreplaceable elsewhere.

“I wouldn’t lie to you!” he swears.

“But you’ll keep things from me,” she counters. She sighs, gently taking Luka’s hand and helping him stand, then addressing him as she says, “I’ll take you home, alright?”

Luka’s gaze briefly flickers between the two of them, but he asks no questions and nods. “Thank you.”

She guides him up the staircase to take him up to the balcony, Chat Noir rushing over to stand at the bottom of the steps.

“M’lady--!”

Ladybug turns to him with a silencing glare. “I really don’t want to be around you right now. We’ll talk later when I’m ready.”

(He’s going to be in for a long talk when they finally meet back up again, and suddenly, he isn’t so eager for an akuma to come rushing by to force them to come back together as a team.)

And with that, Ladybug goes up to the balcony, takes Luka in her arms, and leaves. Things are quiet at first, her taking in a few breaths of the night air as she tries to relax.

The past few days had been a mess, and that was putting it lightly. The kwami, dating, the akuma (that Chat Noir had apparently been soooo excited about), and now this big revelation. The stress must show on her face too, as she can occasionally feel Luka’s concerned gaze on her.

In a way, it’s nice, just having her boyfriend care like this, even when she’s in a mask. He’d put up with way more for her than she felt like he should’ve, and she knew that he’d disagree if she even dared to voice that thought.

Without really thinking, she starts talking to him. She talks about Ladybug, about everything; being thrown into this life that she didn’t ask for, and being happy to save Paris but sad at the emotional toll it takes. She tells him about all the friends who tease her for her lateness, and while it might’ve been funny at first - she was genuinely absent-minded at times - it doesn’t become as funny when knowing that it was something that couldn’t be helped.

“...I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Luka says in an offer of comfort. He sighs, not recoiling from her but it feels like he’s distant anyway. “I know it didn’t help that I was akumatized. I hope I didn’t do anything to Marinette.”

Her gaze softens; of course he’s thinking of her again. It’s Luka, she has no right to be surprised.

Chat Noir, meanwhile, was just thinking of himself.

“Actually,” she corrects, something occurring to her, “I think you might’ve helped in your own way.”

Luka tilts his head at her, puzzled.

She changes course just slightly, specifically to a spot not too far from the Liberty; one that is very familiar to both of them, and she can tell by the way his brows raise that he’s surprised by where she’s about to land.

Underneath the bridge, in the spot where he’d initially asked her - when she was Marinette - where she’d always been going, just before he got akumatized.

She sets him down, then paces around to try and clear her head.

“...Like I said, I didn’t get a lot of choice in this,” she begins. “I tried to give my miraculous up once in the beginning, but there was so much pressure and everything was going wrong. Then, things would just--happen around me, things that I couldn’t really think of--and this is coming from me!” She turns to him dramatically, gesturing to herself. “I imagine things going wrong all the time and I still can’t predict when they actually do!”

Luka chuckles lightly at that, but otherwise stays quiet, unsure of where she’s going with this but giving her his full attention.

“Me becoming the new guardian of the miraculouses so out of nowhere... it was a lot, and suddenly I had a bunch of kwami around my room who all wanted to get into my stuff or mess around. I didn’t choose to let them out; it just happened when I was trying to see how the box with all the miraculouses worked.” She groans a bit, rubbing her forehead as she paces around again. “Then in came Shadow Moth and all the akuma showing up, and now I’m even busier. I can’t even make time for my boyfriend.”

There’s a flicker of emotion in Luka’s eyes at that, but he doesn’t say anything, though his fingers twitch slightly at his sides.

“Then--” She looks down. “--there’s Chat Noir. I didn’t choose him either; the old guardian chose him for me, and he wasn’t even fully trained. I was Chat’s partner and that was it; I didn’t get a choice to give up, it just... was, and I have to deal with whatever the relationship--” She makes a face at the word. “--we have is, because if something goes wrong then everything can go wrong, and then Paris is in danger.”

She shakes her head, realizing that she’s rambling. She continues staring quietly at the ground, then releases the tenseness in her shoulders.

“But...” She looks up to meet Luka’s gaze. “I did choose you, Luka. I finally got to choose something for me, and the only thing I regret about it is everything that I can’t choose. You chose me and I chose you and...” She almost laughs. “It’s weird that it’s that simple for once.”

He’s clearly pieced the puzzle together by now but hasn’t quite processed the result. She can see the whisper of her name on his lips and she smiles at him, taking a step back and spreading her arms wide.

“You’re my real partner, Luka. You get me, you care about me, and we’re similar but different and it’s great.” She swallows, feeling her nerves building a little but pushing forward enthusiastically nonetheless. “So I want to make a choice for us, because we trust each other and I want to give you something no one else has.”

Then, she closes her eyes, taking a breath and briefly tightening her hands into fists.

“Tikki, spots off.”

#((Is there such a thing as *too* many ''Truth'' fix-its?))#type: ideas #type: salt #other: ml spoilers #((I considered sending this ask to my other account but I didn't know if this anon followed me there.))#Flower Arrangement Shipping #episode: Truth #episode: Lies #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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rory294 · 2 years

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thegrandkahuna33/object-battle / /let5-ago

hey, this is a lot on one post, so i made a carrd. i update it whenever i find new stuff so come check back at it once and awhile. enjoy,

https://puffycheeksanon.carrd.co/

thegrandkahuna33/object-battle /let5-ago is a dirty pedo

he likes asking kids to draw fetish art because he thinks its cute

if you look on his blog and see what he follows, you will see some pretty ugly faces. not cute at all

the third one is a dumb weaboo blog, but these two are straight up fetish blogs. tell me, does that look “cute” to you? i think not.

lets look at @heavingandpuffing because thats where the real dirt is

the first image is a cartoon woman pissing herself while holding her breath. that is not cute at all and everyone knows pee kinks exists. i’m not going to post that here because its gross but you can see it vaguely in the picture above.

the image of sandy cheeks you see is what i’m focusing on here into detail about a spongebob character drowning. if you go the bottom of the post, you will see a few lines of gibberish, almost like the user tried to make tags and failed

this is listed as “fetish” and “kink”

i am not saying these two blogs are the same person. i am just showing that alolaace/drv34 is a dirty ol peeedo who likes tricking kids into drawing fetish art.

he has changed his url from momo5yu to pummol88 because he’s a dirty little pedo on the run

he has changed his url from pummol88 to pokemonfan77 because he’s a dirty little pedo on the run. take note on how he removed the blog i mentioned but kept the other ugly ass blog up. its still fetish you silly pedo

he has changed his url from pummol88 to smlover3 because he’s a dirty little pedo on the run. of course someone as tasteless and brain dead as this motherfucker would watch something like that. he’s also removed the other fetish blog in his follows. this is him admitting that yes, it’s a fetish. yes he wanks off to it and no he doesn’t care if he tries to trick children into drawing it. what a pathetic life to live.

he has changed his url from smlover3 to super-mario-67 because he’s a dirty little pedo on the run. at this point he knows i’m here but is a little pussy bitch to do anything.

he has changed his url from super-mario-67 to Pokeblog5 because he’s a dirty little pedo on the run. he’s also made his blog dashboard only because another victim has spoken up. i would recommend checking out their post. love how this spineless little freak is so pathetic that he can’t confront me but continues to harass minors. typical pedo behavior i say.

pokeblog5 has completely abandoned his blog altogether and became danganfan7. unfortunately tumblr loves pedos so they took down one of the other blogs against him but honestly it’s sad to see the experience i gave him wasn’t terrible enough to make him go away. shame shame. just means i have to try harder ;)

so it’s been awhile but this guy’s swapped from his previous usernames and split himself in half! he’s got both drv34 and alolaace take note that he has two different ages on his profiles.

this is very much him trying to bring his sockpuppet brother here, despite being really fucking stupid and making him act JUST like him.

Oh, he also made a funny little post, I’ll link it here so you can roast or block as you please.

yikes, i don’t know why he keeps trying considering he’s made this kind of post before and all it’s done is given him harassment. very pedoy behavior here, imagine having to jump through this many hoops just to convince a bunch of strangers that you don’t jack off to “puffy faces”. couldn’t be me. also take note of the piss poor excuse to keep bothering minors. nasty.

another thing to mention is that he’s prone to send anon hate like a little bitch, here’s a screenshot from someone who wanted to stay anonymous.

honestly, if this guy hit my way with anon hate (he won’t because asks are off and again he’s a little bitch) it would make me laugh. I would show my friends on discord his ask and we’d just make fun of him. lol

Want more reasons to hate this thickskulled prick? Well here you go, ablest slurs!

I censored the person’s icon because I’m sure they don’t want anything to do with this but its nice to see we all live in this dickbutt’s head rent free (i mean it’s not too hard because he’s got such a small brain LMAO)

here’s puffycheeks Mcpedo using his sockpuppet account to send anon hate, not even hiding that it’s him lmao

hey remember on your DA about when you said you take medication so you don’t do bad things? yeeah maybe get a higher dosage dude.

Found another sockpuppet account YEEHAW -->gogogreg

Apparently he has several deviantart accounts in which he uses to prey on kids. typical pedo behavior strikes again. Would be a shame if I plastered them here for all to see!

Oopsies! Oops again! lets hope no one raids or reports them teehee

Good news! We found his furaffinty account! I will not be linking it here because it’s full disgusting crap in his favorites but his username is ugochu. If you ever need proof that this guy’s got puffy cheek fetish, just check there!

It seems he’s slowly becoming aware that people are going to kick him in the teeth whenever he sends anything, so being the groomer he is, puffy’s decided to become a total creep in dms!

Silly dipshit, now you REALLY look like a pedo! if you get a dm asking to draw you stuff privately, block it right away!

He still goin god damn!

literally sounding like a child groomer my dude

#momo5yu #pummol88 #pokemonfan77 #smlover3 #super-mario-67 #Pokeblog5 #danganfan7 #drv34 #alolaace #gogogreg #7genpoke #thestarslumiary #7genp #thegrandkahuna33 #mymomotree34 #let5-ago #object-battle

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mikkomacko · 3 years

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Sweet As Honey 18

Hello everyone! Here she is! Thank you all so much for being so patient with me and this chapter. I hope it lives up to the hype and the wait lol. I'd also like to say that I will still be writing and finishing this series as well as my other in progress ones. However, I'm currently feeling like I'm not that interested in Harry right now and I feel like it's mostly all the drama and everything going on with him right now so updates will be slow. Also I've changed my theme to a Marvel x One Direction theme because I've decided to take one of my Bucky Barnes plot and actually publish it. I'll still post Harry because of course I love him but he won't be the main focus of this blog anymore.

Thanks for waiting and reading. Hope you enjoy the chapter! X

Harry's good under pressure. At least looking from the outside in, he is. It's a skills he's picked up from boxing. Always pretend you know what's going on. No surprises, no shocks. If he's in a fight and his opponent is stronger or faster than he originally thought, he doesn't show it. Acting like it was expected, like he planned it rattles others and helps him maintain his grace.

He keeps that same approach when it comes to interviews.

Liam meets him outside the gym, waving with a bright smile that Harry just smiles at, shocked to find his trainer in the parking garage rather than the ring.

"What's going on mate?" Harry greets, trying to step around him to get to the stairs but Liam halts him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotta reporter here who wants to chat with you about recovering from your concussion and reaching the finals."

His tone is laced with hesitance, lips pursed in suppressed grimace and Harry doesn't blame him. Liam knows how much Harry hates interviews. They're his least favorite part of the job. He's here to box and get paid, to provide for his family, not to tell the world every detail of his life.

"Oh," Harry mumbles, shrugging and stepping up to the door. "Alright. Only for a few minutes though, wanna get home a little early today."

If Liam is surprised by Harry's ease he doesn't show it. "Got something going on?"

Harry follows Liam inside, nodding to Mark at the front desk. "Y/n has just been exhausted lately and Arlo can't spend a second alone without screaming bloody murder. Just want to be there to make sure she's resting and Arlo's not being a pest."

"He's your son, of course he's being in a pest."

The comment leaves too much pride in Harry's chest for him to even care that Liam just insisted he himself is a pest. Besides, Harry knows he's clingy and a little too attached but that's just how his relationship with y/n is, and they love it.

In his private locker room,Harry finds the reporter, a young girl who can't be too far out of undergrad with dark hair and a bright red lips. She's sat on the bench, a notepad on her thigh and her phone resting next to it.

"Hello Mr. Styles." She greets, shaking his hand when he approaches her. "I'm Rebecca Weese."

Harry takes a seat next to her, nodding. "Nice to meet you. I don't have a lot of time today but I can answer a few of your questions if we can make it quick." He smiles guiltily, hoping to not come off as rude.

She nods, immediately glancing down at her notepad and crossing some things out. Harry assumes they're questions she's decided aren't important enough. "Is it ok if I record this? Just sound of course."

Again, he nods, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie as he waits for her to begin. Tapping at her phone, she places it between them to catch both voices and then scans her notes again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you've only been boxing for a few years, right?"

Harry shrugs. "I trained a lot when I was teenager, worked under Ted until he decided to bring me up to the pros. Was about 20 I think when that happened." He tries to stay vague, knowing he can't tell the public that his "training" was an illegal boxing ring.

"Five-Six years is a short amount of time to be included in a tournament like this one. Most contenders are well into their careers before being qualified to participate. What do you think has been the main factor in your success?"

Routine question, and he's got a routine answer. "I was fortunate enough to figure out early on that boxing is what I wanted to do and I think that helped out a lot. I also got a very good team behind me. My trainer, manager, my wife, they're all the main factors in my success. I'm very grateful to have them."

Rebecca smiles a bit, jotting down a few words. "Does your wife work in the industry?"

It's her casual tone, as if she were a friend just wanting to hear him brag about his lover that has him answering so honestly.

"No she works in design but I met her early in my career and she's always supported me. Takes care of me after bad matches and whatnot, always comes to my fights even if it means being on her feet for hours. Which isn't exactly her favorite thing at the moment with the baby-"

Harry stops, eyes widening a bit at what he's just revealed. Part of him wishes desperately that Rebecca didn't hear him but he knows that's impossible.

"I didn't know you're a father," she says kindly, sensing his panic. "Do you want to talk about it more or should I scratch that part?"

He doesn't know what makes him say it. A year ago he'd have fled the room if he were questioned about his family. Harry likes to keep them separate, to keep his kids away from his boxing. It's possibly a small part of him that's conditioned to keep his work a secret from his family even if he doesn't have to. But Rebecca's offer to drop the whole topic is what breaks him.

"S'ok," he says "I've got a son that's about a year old and another on the way."

Her eyes light up, beaming at him and he grins shyly but somehow proudly at the same time. "That's awesome. Congrats. I know your son's young but does he have any part in your career? Influence maybe?"

"He doesn't watch any of my fights or anything. Too young to be around violence like that but he does affect my fighting in a way. I used to go into boxing with just the mentality that I'm doing something I love, but now I've got the added success. A win means more support for my family and I want them to always have what they need so I've got sort of an edge there."

"Like having something to fight for?" She confirms, and Harry nods immediately.

"Yeah. I'd do anything for them and I think that makes me a bit dangerous in the ring."

No matter what, he'll always be fighting for them. Everything he does is for y/n and his boys.

The house smalls of tomato sauce and pasta when Harry walks in, mouth instantly watering and stomach rumbling. He had a light breakfast this morning before going to the gym and now that's he burnt off all that energy he reckons he could eat a horse. Dropping his keys on the table in the entryway, toeing off his sneakers, and dropping his gym bag to the floor, Harry makes a beeline for the kitchen. He's so caught up in wanting to eat he doesn't notice the TV playing a Disney movie or the two figures sprawled out on the couch until one of them is calling for him.

"Daddy!" Arlo's head pops up over the cushions, dimples sunk into his cheeks and eyes bright. Harry immediately changes course, coming up behind the couch and meeting Arlo's outstretched arms.

"'Ello bug," Harry greets, smacking a kiss to his cheek. Arlo coos happily, curling up against Harry's shoulder. Y/n is watching them with a small smile, a hand resting easily over the stretched fabric of his tee-shirt she's wearing. "And hello darling." He leans over the back of the couch to press a crooked kiss to her lips.

"Hi baby," she sits up, smiling dreamily at him. "How was the gym?"

Harry shrugs, adjusting Arlo on his hip. "Was good. I had an interview today about finals and....stuff." Her eyebrow quirks up at his hesitancy to continue.

"What stuff?"

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Harry drops his gaze to Arlo. "You, Arlo, the baby." She doesn't respond immediately and he knows it’s because she’s trying to analyze him. He's fairly private about his family, especially his children and the only reason he'd informed the world of Arlo was to get people off his back about leaving y/n, so he knows she's probably confused by his ease with talking about the new baby.

"How'd it go?" She asks, pushing herself up from the couch with a hand on her belly. Without hesitation Harry reaches out to place his free hand over hers, moving her with him towards the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"M'starving darling," he says and his stomach grumbles in agreement, making Arlo gurgling back and nudge his foot into Harry's tummy. "But interview went well. Announced the pregnancy."

"You did?" She questions, perching herself on the counter stool with wide eyes. "Seems a bit early compared to Arlo's announcement."

Managing as best he can with one free hand, Harry retrieves a bowl from the cabinet and serves himself a heaping mountain of spaghetti. "Just came out if m'being honest," he shrugs, settling into the stool next to her with Arlo still glued to his lap. "'sides it's different this time. He was my first baby and I was scared."

He doesn't realize that she's fallen silent until he's slurping back noodles and she doesn't scold him. Curiously, Harry rotates just enough to look at her. Y/n is staring at him, eyes big and moony when he mumbles a suspicious "wha'?"

"You were scared?"

Swallowing down his food, he nods. Her intent gaze brings a blush to his cheeks and he has to drop his eyes to peer down at Arlo. "Y-yeah. Didn't know if he'd like me as his dad, ya know?"

Harry's never said those words out loud, now that he's come to think of it. Whenever something's pertained to Arlo, Harry was always the positive reinforcement, the one reassuring y/n about them stepping into parenthood. He never really told her how much it scared him because he didn't want to scare her.

"I-I didn't know that," she mumbles. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugs, lifting his gaze from Arlo to y/n. "Because I wanted to be a good dad. Ya know, like the kind that can kill spiders and scare aware bad dreams.....Just wanted to be strong I guess."

He doesn't say it, but he knows she's picked up the fear he won't acknowledge. He doesn't want to be his dad. His father was great but the sad thing is, everything great about him was brought out by alcohol. Des needed that poison to combat his own fears and insecurities, and Harry doesn't want to be like that too. He doesn't want to leave his kids the same way he was left.

"Being scared doesn't make you weak Harry."

She leans over to press a tender kiss to his jaw, belly brushing against his side, and he thinks about those words for the remainder of the day.

Crouched down, Harry steers the shopping cart with one hand and guides Arlo along with the other one. By the way he's trudging along, Harry knows Arlo is getting tired of walking. It's good for him to practice though, so Harry leads him along for another few minutes before scooping him up in one arm.

"Did so well bug." Harry compliments, pecking Arlo's cheek. The toddler curls up into his chest, yawning. It's a bit difficult steering the cart with one hand but Harry manages, steadily making his way up and down each aisle. He gets baby cereal for Arlo, a couple bags of puffy hot Cheetos to stash in the cabinets, and he's stocking up on y/n's latest craving (spaghetti-o's and meatballs) when a familiar face rounds the corner.

Zayn is pushing a cart filled groceries, eyes scanning up and down the shelves and Harry curses under his breath. The last person he wants to see right now is Zayn. Last time they had a run in he said something that bothered y/n and Harry never wants anything to bother his girl.

In an attempt to hide, Harry pulls his hood up over his head, shrinking into his pullover and craning his neck to not make eye contact with his old friend. Grabbing a few cans of the fake pasta y/n is living off of, Harry sets them in the cart and quickly walks down the aisle. A man who looks a few years older than Harry moves towards him, stepping around Zayn and in front of Harry's cart.

"Excuse me," the man stops him, gaze dropping to the boy against his chest for half a second before regretfully meeting Harry's eyes. "m'so sorry to bother, didn't notice the little one-"

"It's fine." Harry cuts off, glancing at Zayn to make sure his back is still to them. It is and Harry relaxes a bit at that, but his curiosity grows. "How can I help you sir?"

The man smiles, grateful. "I just wanted to tell you that m'son and I are big fans and we're excited for your fight this weekend."

Harry knows he has fans, he's run into a few around the city but they're usually teens and kids that want an autograph. He's never had a grown man approach him about his career and it's odd. Flattering, but odd.

"Thanks man. I really appreciate your support." Harry says sincerely, smiling. The man nods in response, taking a step away from Harry. He moves to leave but stops last minute, turning back to Harry.

"Congrats on the baby news too." He says quickly, almost shy or embarrassed. Before Harry can even thank him, the man is rushing out a "have a good day" and then he's moving down the aisle.

Confused, Harry stands there for a moment trying to figure out what happened. He knew announcing the new baby would bring more attention to him in the media and he's not surprised that that man, who's clearly a fan, had already heard it. He is surprised that the man seemed almost scared to admit to Harry that he knows.

"Harry?"

Fuck.

He looks up, meeting the golden eyes that could only belong to Zayn. Harry doesn't even bother trying to smile at his old friend as he stands in front of Harry's cart. A lady maneuvers around them, murmuring a soft "excuse me sir." Harry scoots his cart over, smiling apologetically.

"How have you been man?"

Harry's gaze returns to it's impassive expression, glancing over Zayn's too-bright presence. "I've been good." Harry responds, moving Arlo to his other arm when he starts to lose feeling in his fingers. The movement draws Arlo out of his nap-like state, the toddler now noticing Zayn standing in front of them. Immediately his face scrunches into a look of annoyance.

If Zayn notices, he must not care because he smiles at Arlo, teeth dazzling. "That's good to hear. Congratulations on the baby, by the way! Saw the article up front. S'amazing!"

Article? Harry lips are just starting to form his question when his phone rings, the tune specific to y/n. "Sorry, gotta take this." Harry says in Zayn's direction, digging into his pocket and retrieving his phone. He hits answer before Zayn can even respond.

"Hi darling."

Harry wiggles Arlo into the basket. "Hi H. You still at the store?"

He pushes the cart down the aisle, not caring that he's left his old friend hanging. "Yeah I am. What's up"

The sound of a running faucet comes through the speaker. "Forgot to add yogurt bites to the list. Arlo ate the last of 'em last night and ya know how he is if he doesn't have any before bed."

Harry snorts, steering towards the baby food aisle. Arlo has fallen in love with yogurt bites and they've become his snack before bed. Harry thinks he shouldn't be having them every night and he'd tried to tell Arlo that two nights ago, but Arlo is a stubborn thing. He screamed his head off, ignored Harry's attempts at giving him fresh fruit instead, and then only calmed down after y/n nursed him.

"I'll grab 'em darling. No worries." He assures, tossing a couple bags of the bites into the cart. "Anything else?"

"Do we still have the old flower vases from our wedding in the garage?" She asks.

"Umm, I think so. You expecting flowers from a secret lover or something?" Harry jokes, eyes catching on a pack of bibs hanging in the aisle.

"Not unless you've got a trick up your sleeve Styles." She retorts.

He tosses a pack into the basket. "Buy you a whole flower shop if that's what ya want darling." Arlo grumbles from the baby seat of the cart, tiny fingers coming up to play with the rings on Harry's fingers that are locked around the steering bar.

"Don't worry about that, we've got enough flowers." Y/n laughs and he can hear her moving around the house. "Three bouquets just arrived with congratulations cards."

"What?"

"Guess the baby announcement was well accepted." She says. "We're getting lots of flowers for it."

Pushing towards the checkout, Harry frowns in confusion. "Got stopped by a fan today for the same thing. Can't believe it's such a big deal."

"Well you're more known now than when we were having Arlo." She reasons, and Harry hums his agreement. He passes the self checkouts, freezing when he spots numerous copies of his face on the ends of the aisle.

"Holy shit," he breathes, not even thinking about the innocent ears before him. Y/n gasps through the phone, scolding him for his language. "Sorry darling, s'just I'm bloody plastered all over the grocery store."

He reads over the cover of the sports magazine. It's got a big photo of him in the ring, gloves held up to his chin and jaw tight around his mouth guard. Next to it is a photo of him and y/n leaving a big fight awhile back. She's got her head down, hand snug in his as he leads her along. And written in bold yellows is "Harry Styles Expecting Baby #2 As He Prepares for Biggest Fight Yet!"

"They put me on the front page." He tells her, not bothering to flip open the article before he's quickly moving away from the display. "Why would they do that?"

When he did that interview, he thought it'd be a small, breezy section in the magazine. If he had known he'd be getting stopped in the grocery store and flowers sent to his house he wouldn't have said anything. As previously mentioned, he's a private guy, so having this detail projected in a way he wasn't warned about makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

"It's alright Harry," y/n says reassuringly, knowing that he's become anxious at the publicity. "No harm done. It's just flowers bub and as long as we've got those vases in the garage, everyone will survive."

He chuckle weakly at her joke, picking an aisle so he can quickly checkout and go home. "Don't go digging around for them by yourself, don't need ya falling and getting hurt. I'll help ya when I get home."

"Aw my hero." She coos, and he knows she's teasing but it still makes him blush. God he loves her.

"Those bloody things are making my nose itch." Harry grumbles, aggressively rubbing the palm of his hand into his burning nostrils. He glares at the bouquet of peonies on the dresser, a gift from y/n's co-workers, and moves towards the bed.

Y/n is propped up against the headboard, a pair of his pajama bottoms on her legs but her shirt has been abandoned on the carpet by the bed. Arlo is attached to her hip, mouth latched to her nipple and she's stroking through his soft hair while he breastfeeds. Harry's heart throbs in his chest, warmed by the sight of his wife coddling their baby, and he's so fucking in love with her he's anxious to get Arlo into bed so he can have his way with her.

"I can't just throw them out, H." She sighs, pulling her gaze from the television to his pouty face. He huffs, running the damp towel in his hand through his hair one last time before haphazardly tossing it towards the closet. Kneeing his way up the bed, he curls into y/n's side and smiles when she tucks her arm around him.

"Stroke my hair too?" He mumbles, peering up with puppy eyes and she giggles before threading her fingers through his hair too. Arlo gurgles around a mouthful, bright green eyes opening to look at Harry. He worries for a moment that Arlo is going to get fussy and kick him away, but the toddler just blinks at him sleepily.

"Tha's ma boy." He coos fondly, squirming a hand over to pat Arlo's full tummy. Y/n giggles and continues to stroke his hair, Harry watching Arlo slowly be soothed to sleep. "Lemme get him to bed darling."

Grunting, he pushes himself up from the mattress and too his feet. Y/n transfers Arlo to his awaiting arms, swiping at the milk that dribbled out of his snoring lips and onto her skin. Harry leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Wanna have a shag when I get back?"

A shocked laugh bursts out of her, Harry's face lighting up at the sound as his heart swells. He was trying to be a bit silly, not enough to have her eyes crinkling like that, but he's happy she finds him funny.

"Sure baby." She breathes, still grinning. His stomach flutters, excitement bubbling in his belly and he nods quickly before moving across the room.

Arlo stays cuddled into Harry's neck as he flicks on the nightlight in the nursery and adjusts the blankets in the crib. Theo watched Harry from his bed in the corner, sleepy puppy eyes following his every move. He lays Arlo down, gently shushing him when he store and tucks Bunny into his side. With a peck to his head and a quiet "good night bug," Harry partially shuts the bedroom door and rushes back into the bedroom.

Y/n has already kicked off her bottoms, leaving her naked on their sheets and Harry groans as he works to catch up with her. His shirt is playfully tossed at y/n's grinning face, Harry laughing as he wiggles out of his sweats. Naked as the day he was born, Harry jumps onto his knees at the bottom of the bed.

A laugh bubbles out of y/n when the whole bed shakes under his weight, clearly amused at how excited he is. She must be just as excited though because she quickly leans forward to cup his face, attaching their lips and bringing him back down to the pillows with her.

"Wanna be on top," he mutters into her mouth, ghosting his hand down her tummy and tickling his thumb over her clit. "f'that's ok?"

"Mmm," she hums, happily "too tired to top anyway."

Harry seals their lips together again, using his knees to spread her thighs a bit further apart for him. Her palms smooth down his sides and around to his back, a breathy moan interrupting their kiss courtesy of his fingers. Harry utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging her hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against her side. She lifts, and he settles it under her lower back and bum to prop her up. Luckily for him, he's had a lot of practice getting around a baby bump for a shag.

Settling between her thighs, Harry giggles when she wraps her legs around his hips and tugs him closer. His body hovers over hers, love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through her folds, groaning at how slick she's become.

"Don't even have to try anymore do I?" He teases with a wolfish smile, capturing her lips just as she rolls her eyes. Giggling, he leaves soft kisses across her cheek, heading towards the base of her jaw.

"S'the baby's fault honestly." She argues, her fingers disappearing into the damp locks sticking to the back of his neck.

He hums, smirking against her skin. "Is it?"

With a small tug she's pulling him back up to her mouth. "Yeah. Gets me revved up all the bloody time. I don't know what you're putting in there mister but it's exhausting."

Harry laughs quietly, nipping at her bottom lip. "Don't worry baby, I'm gonna take care of ya. S'my problem after all, isn't it?"

Y/n nods, biting back a grin as Harry grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling her. Chest to chest, Harry smiles at the feeling of their stomachs pressed together as he guides the head of him into her slit.

The sigh that puffs out of her chest sends a zip of pleasure up his spine, as if she'd been partial without him and the pure relief of just having him in her is all she could ever want. Harry hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey she is for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have her this desperate for him and his touch.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to her, dropping his head into the crook of her neck. He pulls his hips back, breath stuttering when he easily slips forward again.

Y/n moans softly, dropping one hand to the small of his back as if guiding him. "So so good H." She confirms in a whisper, her voice tickling his ear and he squirms with a small laugh at the sensation.

Harry's soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between them and the one sleeping down the hall. Even the kisses he places on her jaw and lips are tender, small brushes between their confirmations that he "feels so good" inside her and she was "made for being wrapped me huh?" And Harry thinks nothing ever been truer. Her arms were made to hold him, her hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and her heart was made to completely consume his.

Y/n reaches her high before him, rolling her hips up to try and quicken his but he maintains his sensual thrusts, stroking her temple as she trembles and gasps, clinging to him in every way possible. There's something about how quick she falls apart for him when she's pregnant and how utterly earth shattering it is for her, that it completely obliterates any sense of stamina Harry's ever had. He couldn't care less when he follows shortly after, grinding down into her heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in her walls. She's the one stroking his temple this time, and he knows she's watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes.

Maybe it's the lingering anxiety that washed over him at the grocery store, but when y/n kisses him and gently nudges him off of her so she can go pee, Harry's desperate as he grips her hand and pouts, practically begging when he asks "can I get back in ya after? Just to fall asleep darling?"

Of course she nods, brushing sweaty curls from his forehead to soothe him and just like that he already feels lighter. He never has to sorry with her, because they were made for loving each other.

"Oh fuck!"

"Would you stop being so loud! It's 8 in the morning!"

"Can't help it, darling."

Harry tightens his hold around y/n's thighs, dipping his tongue back into her slit and groaning loudly despite the warning she's already given him this morning. She tugs on his hair scoldingly, drawing a pained hiss out of him. Harry brings his teeth up to her clit, nibbling in retaliation. A pained hiss of her own leaves her lips, cut off by a soft moan as he soothes his tongue over the spot.

Grinding her hips up into his mouth, Harry can't help but push his own into the mattress and a deep groan escapes him as he does so. Huffing, y/n scolds him again for being too loud when they've got a sleeping child one room over.

"Stop yelling at me so I can make you cum." He purrs, lips brushing over her clit. Their eyes meet over the curves and dips of her body, Harry smirking when she raises a prodding eyebrow at him. He kisses her thigh just once, lapping his tongue through her slit and he's just reaching her most sensitive spot when the beginning stirs of Arlo waking up break through the baby monitor.

Simultaneous groans leave both their mouths, this time of frustration. Harry pouts, knocking his forehead on y/n's hip bone and shaking his head.

"I told you Styles." Y/n teases, stroking through his hair for a second. He can't even think of a rebuttal before Arlo is calling out softly for her, and she's pushing up from the bed to get dressed.

"Take care of that while I take care of this." She calls as she disappears through the door, snickering softly and leaving him there desperate for her. But then again, when is he not desperate for her?

Hey man, hope I'm not being a bother. I was just wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink Friday or something?

-Z

Harry stares at the message, wondering why Zayn would sign it when the Instagram handle is clearly him. He also wonders why the hell Zayn is trying to hang out with him now.

It's a sunny day, the air outside relatively warm for March so Harry slipped a sweater on Arlo and brought him out to the backyard to play. They're sat in the grass, Arlo between his legs as they teach Theo to play fetch. Arlo's gotten good at tossing the chew toy himself, so Harry used the free time to start clearing out the congratulations messages he's received on Instagram.

"What's the matter H?"

Harry locks his phone, tilting his head up and squinting into the sun as y/n stands over them. She's got a bowl of puffy hot Cheetos in her hand, cradling them as if they were a precious gem as she settles into the grass with them.

"Nothing," he mumbles, pecking her temple when she leans into his side. "just got a weird text from Zayn. He wants to hang out."

Crunching through a chip, she hums. "Did you know he lives here?"

She lifts up a Cheeto, offering it to him. Harry gladly takes it between his teeth, pulling it from her fingertips and crunching down on the puffy chip. Swallowing, he shakes his head.

"Ran into him at the store once around Valentine's Day," she says, eyes watching Arlo dig his stubby fingers into the dry grass. "Was trying to talk to me about you I think but your son threw a fit and I was too busy to care honestly."

"Really?" Harry asks, perking up at the idea of Arlo throwing a tantrum to keep people away from y/n. That's the only time he'll agree with such actions. "Taught him well then haven't I?"

Rolling her eyes, she elbows him. "If you're son grows up to be rude I'm going to kick your ass Harry Styles."

Laughing, he steals a chip from her, locking his phone and dropping it to the grass. Arlo, interested in the device, crawls over to pick it up.

"Wouldn't expect anything less darling." He says, reaching over to swipe his phone to the camera so Arlo can snap random pictures.

"What are you going to do about Zayn then?"

"Suppose I should see what he wants, yeah?"

Y/n shrugs but Harry can read the look on her face easily. She's always silently encouraged him to face things that need mending or fixing, and his past with Zayn is one of those things.

"S'done then," he laughs, pinching her side affectionately. "I'll figure out why he's so obsessed with me."

She laughs, throwing her head back and scrunching her nose in the way makes him want to stare at her forever. "Think it's that one he's obsessed with. Look how cute he is."

Harry follows her line of sight, smile growing at the sight of Arlo making faces at himself in Harry's camera.

So bloody cute.

"Are we gonna be besties? I think we're gonna be besties." Niall states, swinging an arm around y/n's shoulders. He's on his third beer of the night already and Harry hasn't even made it to the ring yet. Y/n just laughs, continuing to maneuver tape around Harry's fingers but he's not as kind.

Casting a glare at the Irish man, Harry calls out to Gemma. "Get your leprechaun off of my girl before I use him to warm up."

Niall isn't really phased by the words, only pouting softly at Harry's steel gaze but Gemma is quick to rush over and pull Niall up from the couch by his hand.

"Come on babe, let's go find our seats." She coos to him, sending Harry an apologetic smile. He waits for her and Niall to turn their backs before chuckling softly. Y/n pinches at his wrist.

"Be nice to Niall. I really like him."

"Oh you really like him, huh?" Harry huffs, nudging his knee against hers. She rolls her eyes, giggling when he slips his free hand around her waist and pulls her into his lap. "Please tell me how much you really like Niall darling." He requests, shoving his face in her neck and playfully biting at her throat and shoulder. Just as he'd expected, she giggles and squirms, Harry having to wrap her up in a bear hug to keep her from sliding right off his thigh.

"Harry! Stop!"

He laughs with her, moving up to bite at the apples of her cheeks and her nose, growling as if he were a rabid beast. His freshly taped knuckles ache under the tightness of the wrap as he grips her flailing legs but he ignores it in favor of listening to her laugh.

"I like you more! I swear!" She shouts between laughs, wiggling a hand free and gripping the back of his neck. Pleased with her words, Harry pants out a laugh before sealing his mouth to hers.

"Tha's good because I like you more than Niall too." He mumbles into her lips.

"You like me more than you like everyone." She chuckles, stroking her thumb along his jawline. Harry's eyes shine with delight, proud that she knows her place in his heart, but he still teases.

"Mmm almost darling. Quite like my son, ya know that?"

She rolls her eyes but looks at him fondly, pinching the meat of his cheek. "Cute," she murmurs, "now go get ready for your fight baby. Want everyone to see my husband's gonna be the national champion."

Her words bring a rush of blood to his cheeks (and his cock if he's being honest), but he nudges her onto the couch next to him. "Just need two more wins." He whispers in her ear, pecking her temple.

Just two more wins.

There's good fights and there's bad fights. Everyone knows that. But not everyone knows that there's good wins and bad wins. Harry's experienced a few of those bad ones. Wins that he probably shouldn't have gotten because he certain his opponent had landed more punches and the judges miscounted. Or it was clear the other fighter wasn't into it and let him win.

Harry thinks tonight is his worst win ever.

The fight had been good. Trinsky, tonight's opponent from New Jersey, was short and stocky but strong. Harry was quicker than him though so they'd gone back and forth for a few rounds. Nothing two rough, just enough punches to have bright red welts on his torso and an ache in his jaw.

He fought through it though, fueled by the sounds of y/n and Niall cheering for him. Win this fight and he's onto the championship match. So he went at it with all he had left, charging Trinsky just as the man knocked his fist into Harry's temple.

It felt like a lightning bolt of pain zapped through his brain, shaking his core and causing his feet to stumble. Trinsky slid to the right as Harry crashed into the ropes, blinking furiously as the room around him spun. He was still in a daze as his body moved on its own, quick enough to uppercut his left fist into Trinsky's chin. The man crumbled to the mat, out cold, and Harry's dizzy head brought him down as well.

There's cheering and an announcement of his name, declaring Harry the winner but he can't seem to focus on it. Trinsky is being moved from the ring by his team, Harry falling to his bum on the mat as he rips at the velcro of his gloves with his teeth.

The room is coming back into focus, someone is calling him from the side of the ring but he doesn't recognize the voice so it goes ignored. He gets his hands free, rubbing his fingers into the tender spot on his head and wincing. He needs to take some Advil and ice it.

Harry climbs to his feet, a bit disoriented as he ducks under the ropes to leave. He knows he's got a team here somewhere but his mind can't seem to recognize what they look like or how to find them.

"Man, what are you doing?"

He turns, confused to find two men watching him like he's grown a second head. Harry feels like he knows the warm brown eyes of the taller man but he's not sure from where. Smiling uncomfortably, he motions behind him.

"I n-need ice or something." He says, excusing himself with a shrug and turning back to the locker room. He doesn't like the way his stomach twists or how his chest is telling him he knows those men when he couldn't even tell you there names right now. His heart thunders in his chest, panic seeping in and he's desperate to find something or someone that'll just help him out.

"Harry baby," she says calmly, a hand rubbing up his bare back comfortingly. "you okay?"

Y/n appears at his side, head tilted so she can meet his nervous gaze. Almost immediately he latches onto her hand, shaking his head. Her eyebrows crease, lips frowning as she reaches to cup his cheek.

"What's going on H? What's the matter?"

"M'head hurts," he answers immediately. "I-I think I forgot my team."

A trembling breath leaves his lips, tears stinging behind his eyes when he sees the concern on his wife's face. She brushes her thumb over his temple, the one she knows got hit the hardest, and then brushes a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead to place a tender kiss there.

"Let's get you to the locker room babe."

He follows like a lost puppy, trailing behind her through the back hallway and into his locker room. Y/n closes the door behind him before anyone else can enter, twisting the lock. Harry sits in the closest chair, fiddling with the tape on his fingers as he tries to calm down.

"Do you want to talk to me bub?" Y/n asks quietly, pulling up a seat directly in front of him. He nods, lifting his gaze from his hands to her face.

"I don't know what happened. It's like I got hit in the head and everything got shook up." He explains, frowning. He hates the way this feels. Hates that his body is screaming at him to just remember but his brain refuses to accept the message. "I know them, I know I do but s'like their names and stuff are just gone."

Y/n inhales sharply, biting nervously at her bottom lip. Harry's not even sure what to say and that makes him feel so much worse. He doesn't even feel like he has a concussion, not really. Everything else is still there, still in the forefront of his mind. His wife, his boys, Anne and Gemma. And he faintly remembers sitting at bars with one of the men from his team, remembers crashing on his couch late at night. But the soul of those memories are gone.

"I'm gonna get you some painkillers and water okay babe? Then we'll figure out what to do."

He nods, smiling wetly when she kisses his forehead. Watching her move around the room to gather water and whatnot, Harry wills himself to just think. He knows these men, he's just gotta focus on it. A memory stands out, one of the three of them in a car on a road trip. His trainer is driving, his manager in the passenger seat and he knows this is a trip for a match. A recent match too because he remembers saying goodbye to Arlo and y/n, kissing her swollen belly before he went.

Y/n returns to him with a bottle of water and a couple pills, watching him cautiously as he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to just think. Recalling conversations from the car, remembering the screen in the front of the vehicle that reads Connected to Liam's iPhone. Liam. Almost instantly Nick's name floods his brain again and he feels his whole body tremble with relief.

Harry takes the medicine, gulping it down and slumping into his seat. "Nick and Liam," he finally murmurs, voice thick. "I couldn't remember darling. They were right in front of me and I couldn't remember their fucking names."

A silent tear trails down his cheek, Harry sniffling as y/n wipes it away with a tender touch he's only felt from her. "Its ok Harry. We'll figure out what happened. At least you remember now baby." She tried to comfort, but Harry's heart still aches.

"What if-" he peers up at her through wet eyelashes. "what if it had been you? Or Arlo? Or all three of you? What if I-"

He can't even finish the thought before he's shaking his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks and jaw. What would he have done if he'd looked at y/n and not remembered her name? Not remembered the beautiful son they created? Or the one she's growing now?

"It wasn't Harry," she stays sternly, cutting into his spiralling thoughts. "it wasn't and even if it did happen, it wouldn't change a thing. You're not getting rid of us."

Trying to smile, he nods and takes a deep breath. He trusts her, more than anyone, and he's never known someone that fights as much as she does. He knows, no matter what, that she'll always have his back.

#sweet as honey #harry styles #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #one direction #harry styles au #dad harry #boxer harry #cute #smut #daddy harry styles #sweet as honey talk

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 2 years

Text

I’ve been listening The Bugle podcast, which started in October 2007 and now I’m about a year in, in September 2008. It’s a topical podcast that Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver recorded every week for a bunch of years, with Andy in London and John having recently moved to New York, to talk about whatever was in the news from the perspectives of both sides of the Atlantic. I’m still a bit amazed that I’ve spent the last year or so wishing something like this existed, and had never bothered to find out that it does actually exist.

I’m on episode 45, and I’m enjoying it so much. I should probably say more about what the show is actually like, because that’s the sort of thing I write about on this blog, but I keep getting so into listening to the episodes and then I just want to listen to the next episode rather than do anything else. I don’t have anything to say that’s funny or interesting enough to add on to anything they say.

But I do have one specific thing, on the episode I’m at now. John Oliver recorded this episode from Los Angeles, where he’d flown to attend the Emmys, since The Daily Show was nominated. John complained about how after the podcast, he’d have to go to the awards show, where he was nervous about all the very successful and attractive people who would be there, and where he would have to wear a full tuxedo for the first time in his life. Which, first of all, adorable. Today, John Oliver has now been nominated for 21 Emmy Awards and won 15 of them, mostly for his own show and not for working on someone else’s. But the one in 2008 was his first time going there and he sounded genuinely intimidated/vaguely amazed that it was happening.

Listening to The Bugle reminds me a tiny bit of listening to Russell Howard and Jon Richardson’s radio show, which I did last year. The two shows are very different in a bunch of ways – this one is topical and written beforehand (in that they write material for it and know exactly what they’re going to discuss, they’re not reading the whole thing off a script or anything) and edited afterward, while the other one is just several hours of live talking about whatever with only a vague plan and a few recurring segments. But there are some similarities, in that they’re both two male comedians who are friends in real life and are starting to get a bit famous but have not yet gotten as famous as they’ll go on to be, in 2007-2008, talking to each other in an unscripted audio format. So that creates a slightly similar feel.

There’s another similar circumstance, in that in both shows, one of those guys was getting famous faster/sooner than the other. Jon Richardson and Russell Howard had recently gone from guys who were both doing stand-up locally and trying to break into the wider comedy scene, to Russell getting a regular Mock the Week spot and other panel show bookings and shows overseas, while Jon stayed in their original position for a couple more years. This led to outbursts of panic and jealousy and resentment and general bitterness from Jon, expressed frequently enough on air so I can only imagine how bad he was off air.

During the first couple of years of The Bugle, Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver had recently gone from two guys who did live shows together in Britain and made BBC Radio 4 comedies together, to Andy still doing that while John got a job with The Daily Show and moved to New York. This is a much faster ascent to fame than Russell Howard had, and my brain, which has been wired from listening to that radio show last year, expected to hear resentment from his less famous friend.

Honestly, I’d resent John Oliver if I were one of his former peers. Especially because 45 episodes of The Bugle has been enough for me to see that of the two of them, Andy Zalzman is the one who does the long-ish rants that sound off the cuff but must have taken a lot of time and skill to write, and they make me laugh until I can’t breathe. I’m not saying Andy’s an overall better comedian than John. What John Oliver does on Last Week Tonight takes incredible talent that few people have. But it’s clear that in terms of just writing words that are really fucking funny and then saying them in a way that makes people laugh really hard, Andy Zaltzman is at least as good as John Oliver. John just happened to get a golden opportunity and suddenly he’s across an ocean wearing tuxedos at the Emmys. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, and to hear the way he talks about it on The Bugle, John doesn’t seem to be sure either. For some reason I think I’ve heard somewhere that Ricky Gervais was involved. I might look that up later.

John Oliver’s Daily Show job immediately made him much more famous than he’d been in England, but it didn’t immediately make him a world-famous celebrity. However, it did immediately put him in a position to regularly interact with world-famous celebrities, because The Daily Show gets a lot of high-profile guests. So in these episodes of the humble Bugle podcast, John Oliver sometimes drops some names. Will Ferrell, George Clooney, Bill Gates, a bunch of American politicians who are not well known now but were big deals at the time - John will occasionally throw in stories about how he was in a room with these people just a few days ago.

The weird thing to me is that Andy lets him get away with that. On their BBC 6 Music radio show, Russell Howard couldn’t slip in a casual reference to sharing a train with Jimmy Carr once without a full meltdown from Jon accusing him of being a name-dropping asshole. I wouldn’t expect that reaction from Andy Zaltzman, partly because it’s a little different when we know John Oliver has spent the last week sharing space with The Daily Show’s latest guests so it’s completely expected, and partly because Andy Zaltzman is a reasonable human being with a sense of professionalism and perspective, rather than just a mess of psychological issues stacked on top of each other in a trench coat.

But still… I’d expect something. Not fully freaking out about it like Jon Richardson. But some level of mocking, not just letting John Oliver get away with casually mentioning how he had a conversation with Bill Gates like that’s normal, and then moving on. Because while The Bugle is about discussing the news, it is also about, as the British say (I think this is a term used in North America too, just not nearly as often), banter. They make fun of each other for everything. For the way they talk and the way they look and the things that annoy them and for any mistake they make with their words. For being too British or not British enough or too American or not American enough, depending on the context.

At this point, it’s weird that I haven’t heard Andy Zaltzman make a single comment along the lines of “All right John, we know you’re a hotshot in New York who gets to hang out with proper celebrities all the time, and fuck you for that.” The disparity in fame is becoming such a large elephant in the room that it’s starting to feel like they’re intentionally avoiding it, which is, as I said, weird. Like… is Andrew Zaltzman made of stone? Is he such a gracious and jealousy-free good person that he’s genuinely not bothered by this, and in fact doesn’t even notice it so he doesn’t think it’s worth commenting on? Is it such a bothersome subject that he’s just too professional to bring it up on the podcast?

Anyway, I had been starting to think things along those lines, but fortunately, in the episode I’m on now, Andy just let John finish his story about how he’s recording this from Los Angeles and he recently got fitted for a tuxedo to wear to the Emmys and that was awkward because he doesn’t look good in formal clothes (yeah, imagine if John Oliver had to wear suits all the time, wouldn’t that be weird?), followed by a story about an awkward moment when he’d run into Tony Blair at a recent Daily Show taping, and responded with: “So, uh, John is in L.A. for the Emmys and just met Tony Blair. I had a really good pastrami sandwich on Thursday. So, big things happening for both of us this week.”

I have to say, hearing that joke was pretty reassuring, just as a way to let me know that Andy Zaltzman is in fact human and not made entirely of stone or grace or whatever you’d have to made of to never pick up on this situation at all. Surely there must be some normal level of human response to doing a show with a friend who’s much more successful than you are – something between being serenely completely fine with it and being a mess of psychological issues stacked on top of each other in a trench coat. Andy’s probably found it there, it probably lies in making a quip about pastrami sandwiches and moving on.

I get it, Andy. I had a good pastrami sandwich a few days ago too, and I haven’t won an Emmy or met Tony Blair either (not that I would want to do the second of those things, at least). But I also can’t write and then recite surrealist comedy monologues that are funny enough to make listeners fall apart with laughter, and consistently come up with fresh ones on a regular basis for years. So you’ve got big things going for you too. I’ve never heard John Oliver host The News Quiz.

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

Note

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Clipped wings♕yandere!prince!jjk

♮ 18+ ♮ xtremity: 4 ♮ pairing: prince jjk x female reader ♮ genre: soft smut, light angst, royal au, soft yandere ♮ word count: 7.7k ♮ warnings: light angst, soft yandere, possessive behavior, stockholm syndrome themes, soft smut, virgin!reader, oral(f), fingering, praise ‘dirty’ talk, unprotected sex/creampie.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for so long and here he finally is. I want to thank @ppersonna for being my soft smut aid, I couldn’t have finished this without you. And thank you @chimoona for being a good support to keep me from throwing this fic into the trash can at several occasions. ily or something. Also thank you to my dear @carly-bean-blog for helping me out with this gorgeous banner. chu♡

It was a late night, the darkness illuminated by the continuous lightning strikes flashing, rain pouring down so hard that it was hard to see further than a few meters ahead.

It was the worst thunderstorm in history, you were sure of it.

Unfortunately, you were in the midst of it, lost in the woods as you tried to navigate your way back to town.

But to no avail, you were completely disoriented, panic rushing through your spine as you felt your clothes getting heavier, soaked by the cold rain.

Aimlessly wandering for shelter, you end up in a large garden, following the trail of flowers until you reach two grand doors. You look up, palms placed flat on the surface, your eyes squinting to get a better look of it. You couldn’t see very well, but this was a very large building-- A castle?

Another strike of lightning sparked in the sky, the silhouette of the castle visible for a split second, and you gasp, startled from the roaring sound. In the midst of it, you decide to knock three times on the wooden doors.

A long moment passes, until you take a step back when the two doors slowly creaked open. Keeping one hand over your face to shelter your eyes from the rain, you’re able to distinguish the frame of a man standing by the doorway,

‘‘Who may this be?’’

Must be a butler, his voice deep and smooth. He didn’t look very pleased, however.

‘‘I-I just.... I’m lost, and-’‘

‘‘I’m sorry, we are unable to help. Unless you have business with the prince, you must leave immediately.’‘

You took a step closer, a frown on your face, ‘’You’re going to leave me here in the cold? It’s pouring!’’

The butler didn’t move, but his eyes were apologetic, ‘’I’m sorry, ma’am.’’

‘‘I’ll die from the cold!’‘ You pleaded. It felt partially true, you were freezing, soaked and lost. How could one be so heartless?

The butler pursed his lips, as if he was trying to find a solution, ‘’Then... step inside for a moment.’’ he ushered for you to get inside just far enough for you to be sheltered by the building, closing the doors behind you before he strides through the hall towards a room, ‘’Wait there, I will be back shortly.’’

So, you did. You waited, for what felt like forever.

Until finally, the footsteps of the butlers heeled boots echoed through the large hallway was heard as he returned, a vague smile on his lips as he bowed at you,

‘‘The prince would like to see you.’‘

You tilted your head to the side, ‘’He would?’’

The butler nods, ushering for you to follow behind him, so you do.

When reaching the next large door, the butler opens them before stepping to the side, announcing your presence, ‘’She’s here, my lord.’’

You walk in, unsure of what to say or do, jumping where you stand as the doors slam shut behind you, leaving you alone with this.... prince.

‘‘Who are you?’‘ His smooth voice snapped your attention towards the man standing by the window, back facing you.

From what you could see, he was very young. A lot younger than you expected, probably around your age if you weren’t mistaken.

He had raven hair, a form fitted suit showcasing his perfectly sculpted proportions, a slim waist with broad shoulders.

Please, let him at least have a less attractive face.

The prince turned around slowly, a wine glass swirling in his hand while the other was stuffed deep down the pocket of his suit pants.

Of course he was beautiful.

‘‘Let me ask you again,’’ he said, taking one sip from his wine as he slowly sauntered over to you, the echoing of his heels clacking against the floor prominent in the grand room, ‘’Who are you? And what do you want?’’

Your eyebrows were drawn together, gaze following him as he circled around you like some kind of predator eyeing its prey.

‘‘I’m Y/N. I simply wish for shelter from the storm until it passes, then I will be on my way.’’

The prince hummed, his eyes drawn to the liquid in his glass as he’s in thought,

‘‘And why should I grant you this wish?’‘

What? Wish?

‘‘Are you serious?’‘ You grew annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest. Ah, your clothes were cold... Looking at him, your eyes were annoyed, yet pleading, ‘‘It’s a very bad storm, I can’t go back out...’‘

‘‘Then what do you offer?’‘ He glanced back up at you with a serious face.

What could you possibly offer a prince? He had everything he could ever desire.

But, you did have one thing that could not be bought...

‘‘I could sing for you.’‘

The prince’s eyes widened, he didn’t expect that out of all things you could’ve offered. ‘’Huh? I mean...What?’’

Now he’s the one speechless. huh.

‘‘Yes,’‘ You take one daring step forward, ‘‘I’m not rich, nor do I have anything of... value to give. But.. I can sing. Isn’t it awfully quiet in this large castle all by yourself?’‘

He rolled his tongue on the inside of his cheek, placing the glass down on the nearby desk before crossing his own arms over his chest. ‘’Go on then. Sing for me.’’

His command causes you to take a deep breath, giving him a short nod. God, you wish you would’ve been able to change into dry clothes first... Hopefully, this would be enough for him to let you stay, and maybe even accommodate some dry fabrics for your freezing body.

Jungkook leaned against his desk, fingers thrumming against his bicep as they were crossed. He wasn’t expecting much, honestly. But, he was truly bored-- why not mess with this strange girl before throwing her out?

But, he spoke too soon, and his premature judgement backfired. As soon as you cleared your throat, a shaky tune escaped your parted lips. With every word you sang, your voice got steadier and more secure in your abilities. The cold was less of a bother as the piercing, fixated gaze of the prince heated your entire being.

He was absolutely mesmerized by your voice, his lips fell slightly agape, his body stiffening. He expected nothing special, but this... It was probably-- no, it was without a doubt the most beautiful sound he’s ever been blessed with. It touched his soul, his heart pounded beneath his rib cage so hard it felt like it would burst, eyes now focused on your effortless beauty despite your messy damp hair and soaked clothes. You were way beyond physical beauty.

He’d already made his decision by now.

‘‘Enough.’‘ The prince had closed the distance between the two of you, his body standing right in front of yours. You hadn’t noticed that he came up to you until your eyes opened, breath hitched at his close proximity. Your doe eyes stared up at him, his own dark orbs swirling with an unnamed emotion.

‘‘S-so...?’‘ You whisper, hoping that it was enough for him to let you stay the night.

He smiled softly, reaching to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand. ‘‘I’ll need you to sing for me once more,’‘ He paused to snap his fingers, the maid that you didn’t even notice was in the room ushers you out of the room to lead you to your own.

Jungkook wanted to hear it again. And again... And again… For the rest of eternity.

~ ~ ~

The following morning you felt well rested, the large bed and dry nightgown provided worked wonders. Peering around the room, you realized that you’d possibly overstayed your welcome, the sun shining through the large... locked and barred window? Odd. Safety precautions, supposedly.

You pushed the bedspread away from your body to stand up, heading towards the door to leave.

It was locked.

‘’What the..?’’

You were in disbelief, jerking the handle once, twice. It wouldn’t budge. You were locked in.

‘’Hello?... I can’t get out! Open the door!’’ You yelled through the keyhole, fist slamming against the wooden surface of the door, hoping that somebody in the large castle would hear you.

As soon as you were about to slam your hand against the door once more, it suddenly opened. It was the kind butler, handing you a stack of clean clothes and an apologetic smile.

‘’The prince has instructed for you to join him for dinner this evening,’’ He pauses to make sure you’re keeping up, his lopsided smile still present, ‘’Please put this on before then. I will return when it is time.’’

He puts the fabrics in your hands before you’re able to even think of a response, your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

‘’Wait-- Why was the door locked?’’ You pleaded for an answer, but the butler avoided the question, and simply took a step back before slowly closing the door, the expression on his eyes nothing but penitent.

You couldn’t believe what was happening, eyes widening as you dropped everything to the floor, attempting once again to open the door, but within the same second the click of the lock striked the room, and the fading sound of footsteps leaving in the hallway.

What were you supposed to do the entire day?

And why did the prince want you to stay for dinner?

And for god's sake, why on earth were you locked in? You thought the prince wanted you out as soon as humanly possible. Nothing made sense.

A defeated sigh pushed through your lips as you picked up the clothes that you’d dropped, heading over to place them on the bed. You wonder if the prince himself had personally picked out this ensemble for you. Not that it mattered. You lift the cloth to inspect the dark purple fabrics, a cocktail style dress… and honestly… you’d lie if you said it wasn’t beautiful.

~ ~ ~

The evening finally arrived, and you actually had gotten ready in lack of anything else to do, dress on with the matching shoes-- even the little bracelet provided, a small silver dangle attached shaped like a little bird. You figured, you might as well oblige to the prince’s wishes, and hopefully you’d be able to leave after this… dinner.

Meanwhile, Jungkook had made sure that everything was up to his expectations; the grand table filled with a variety of delicacies. He circled the table several times, sharp eyes observing that every single detail was up to par. And it was, he hummed in content before his gaze landed on his butler. ‘’Bring the lady, make sure she’s dressed for the occasion.’’

‘’Yes, my lord.’’

~ ~ ~

A firm knock on the door caught your attention as you were observing yourself in the large mirror. Suddenly, you almost felt nervous-- jittery. Taking a deep breath, you head towards the door, waiting for whoever is behind it to open it for you. ‘’Are you dressed?’’ The deep voice on the other side muttered.

‘’Yes.’’ As soon as you voiced your reply, the door swung open, this time a boxy smile adorning the butlers face instead of the crooked one you’d almost gotten used to. It was nice to see he had any other expression than a gloomy one.

You were guided downstairs to the dining hall. As soon as you entered through the two large doors, you felt so incredibly small. You jumped when the doors were slammed shut behind you, and a sudden hand gently placed on your lower back to usher you to your seat.

Jungkook crooked his eyebrow at the butler's daring move and gave him a warning glare as he pushed your seat in behind you.

‘’Welcome, Y/N.’’ Jungkook clasped his hands on the table, leaning forward as his eyes roamed down the outfit you’d put on… The attire he’d chosen especially for you. His gaze landed on the small bracelet on your wrist, the silver bird dangle beautifully decorating you like a piece of art.

‘’Thank you..’’ You replied, a bit unsure of this situation. But you decided to enjoy it. Why not? It’s not everyday that you’d get to dine with royalty. All this food smelled heavenly. Jungkook snapped his fingers, and on cue the butler poured your wine, while the maid put food on your plates. When he was satisfied, he told them to leave the room and wait outside.

Jungkook wanted utter privacy with you.

‘’What do you think of this?’’ Jungkook asked, gesturing around the room; but he meant everything. The castle.

‘’It’s divine,’’ You answered truthfully as you sipped your wine to wash down the food, ‘’Is it just you here?’’

‘’Yeah,’’ He nodded, a small smile on his lips. It almost looked sad, ‘’If you don’t count my servants.’’

The dinner was pleasant, surprisingly. There wasn’t much conversation, but a simple comfortable silence with the occasional comment about the delicious cuisines that were offered. While you were gazing around the room, chewing your food in content, Jungkook’s eyes were completely transfixed on you. The way your nose scrunched slightly from the bitter aftertaste of the wine. The way you continuously placed strands of your hair behind your ear, to just how enchanting you looked in the attire he’d dressed you in.

He felt lucky that he found you. Or rather, you found him. It couldn’t be anything but fate. Jungkook believed it. He stayed this way for a while, enjoying the silent admiration he was giving you. He hadn’t had this kind of company… Ever. It was new, and he didn’t want to let it go. Suddenly the silence felt suffocating.

‘’Sing for me.’’ Jungkook asked softly, swirling the wine glass in his hand. His eyes followed the flow of the liquid for a second before shifting his piercing gaze to your face.

You stopped yourself from questioning him, knowing he knows that you heard him the first time. But that didn’t mean your eyebrows weren’t raised in surprise. ‘’Okay.’’ After all, he had told you that he wanted to hear you sing one more time.

Jungkook’s doe eyes sparkled in awe as he leaned back in his chair, completely forgetting about the glass in his hand. He couldn’t even think, just listen-- and stare at you the second you got up from your chair and sing. The way your lips moved with every word, his eyes followed. The small gestures of your hands made him want to hold them. And the brightness in your eyes that he hadn’t noticed before, had his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

This is it. She’s the one.

While you sang, he’d slowly gotten up from his seat, placing the glass on the table to leave it behind. Approaching you, his hands reached out to grab your wrist and pull you close to his chest. Your singing stopped with a surprised yelp, staring at the little bracelet he was observing as he held your wrist up for the two of you to view.

‘’You know what this is?’’ He asked, grasping the little dangle decoration between his thumb and index finger.

‘’A dove?’’ You said, a bit confused as to what he meant. It was obviously a dove.

‘’Correct,’’ He chuckled, the endearing smile of his growing, ‘’A symbol of peace.’’ A piece of peace in Jungkook’s world.

You hum in agreement, still not sure what he’s implying. Trying to pull your wrist away, he willingly let go, but replaced the empty spot in his palm by placing it on your waist. This was awfully close, and you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

‘’I-- thank you for the dinner… But, I should really get going now.’’ You glanced towards the window, seeing the sun shining bright, ‘’The storm has passed.’’

Jungkook’s smile faltered at your words, slowly morphing into a frown when you stepped away from his grasp. His hands fell to his sides, looking at you as if you had just torn his heart out of his chest. But you didn’t notice. ‘’Don’t leave.’’

You were on your way to the door, hand grasping the handle before his words stopped you, causing you to look over your shoulder at the prince. Silence filled the room, and the air grew thicker.

‘’I have to leave. I can’t stay here. I need to go home.’’

Jungkook sighed, clenching his jaw as he stared at the floor. He almost looked like a child throwing a tantrum when they didn’t get what they wished for. ‘’You can’t.’’ He murmured.

‘’Watch me.’’ You huffed, jerking the door open before stepping out into the grand hall, striding towards the door with a made up mind. You were going home, you shouldn’t get used to this lifestyle. It was only for one night. You made it to the grand entrance, pushing with your entire body strength and pulling at the handle-- but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Your eyes searched for a way to unlock it, you were inside of the building after all. Why couldn’t you open it?

‘’Y/N..’’ Jungkook startled you, appearing behind you so suddenly. His voice was calm, arms crossed over his chest. A concerned look played on his face.

‘’Why is the door locked?’’ You asked, confusion obvious in your expression as you let go of the handle to turn to him.

‘’I told you, you can’t leave.’’ He sighed, clacking his tongue in annoyance. Why didn’t you get it?

‘’Why?’’

‘’I want you to stay… Be my little bird.’’

‘’What… what do you mean ‘little bird’?’’

‘’Sing for me, always.’’ The look in his eye was serious, yet gentle. He stepped closer, reaching out to delicately take your hands in his own, ‘’I will take care of you, everything you need is right here. Anything you want. Just please be mine.’’

Your mouth fell open, unable to speak or think of any witty comment to counter with. His words were sincere, the vulnerability in his expression along with his delicate touch had your heart skip a beat.. Or stop completely-- you weren’t sure. The logic in you told you no, this couldn’t be. He couldn’t love you this quickly, and neither could you. But your heart pumped these new emotions throughout your body, clouding any sense of what should and shouldn’t-- any logic thrown out the window. A part of you that grew with every second spent drowning in his dark eyes, your body decided to make the decision for you with a vague nod.

‘’Say it.’’ Jungkook urged, his eyes sparkling with a layer of tears. Were they happy? Sad? Maybe both. He wanted to hear your sweet voice confirm, his own chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He squeezed your hands in his, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

‘’I… I can’t say that yet.. I’m sorry.’’ You whispered, and you swore you could hear his heart audibly crack. But it was okay, he mused. You didn’t reject him-- but you didn’t accept him in your heart yet. All you needed was time.

‘’Y/N…’’ Jungkook pulled you closer to his chest, brushing your hair away from your face. As he spoke, his warm comforting breath fanned your lips, ‘’It’s okay, you don’t have to say it yet. Just… Stay with me.’’

You nodded, feeling your own eyes sting with the tears building up from his heavy emotions rubbing off on you. He smiled softly, palm carefully placed on your cheek to draw you in, closing the distance between your lips in a sweet kiss.

All he needed was patience.

~ ~ ~

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months spent in his castle. You hadn’t taken a single step outside since that stormy night, and it was as if you’d forgotten what grass felt like underneath your feet. However, the times he allowed you to sit with him on his balcony, the warm sun and chill breeze would bring you enough peace to satiate your need for the freedom you were robbed of.

It was complicated, the way you felt. Spending every single day with the prince, you’d gradually fallen for him, and become close enough for you to even start calling him by his first name. He spoiled you with everything you could ever want; clothes, jewelry, endless amounts of books and pretty things, flowers. He showered you in his affection, a large smile constantly on his face whenever he gave, gave and gave to you. He saw how you slowly opened up to him, and it made him so happy; nobody had ever seen the lonely prince this way before.

But at times when he wasn't home, out attending to his duties, you suddenly felt lonely. You had time to think about everything, and it scared you how much you missed Jungkook. However, what you had started to miss even more was your freedom… The life you had before you met the prince.

It was clear that you weren’t allowed to leave, every window was barred, and every door was locked. It was impossible. No matter, because at this point you were scared to live without him. You couldn’t.

So you opted for the one thing you knew, the one thing you had that was in your control.

You stood by your window, watching the birds chirp and fly by, feeling the warmth of the sun rays beaming at your skin in stripes through the bars. You sang your heart out.

In the beginning, your singing was bright and full of life, proud of how Jungkook admired your voice.

But lately, your tune was laced with melancholy.

~ ~ ~

Jungkook heard your voice as he strode through the hallway, feeling his heart jump at the beautiful sound. Lately, your voice had gotten more and more bewitching. He was obsessed with the sadness in your vocals. He carefully peeked in through the crack of the door as he opened it, and the sight before him was breathtaking. You looked like a goddess with the sun glowing on your skin, eyes closed as you were completely indulged in your song.

He loved you so much, nothing or nobody could ever compare, nor could anybody intervene. You were his, kept safe in this castle for the rest of your life.

After a long moment of admiring you, Jungkook finally opened the door to step inside, quietly strolling over to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his hands settle on your stomach as he pressed his chest against your back, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. Your singing ceased, eyes widening in surprise at his sudden appearance. Just as quickly as your body tensed up, it relaxed in his embrace.

“You sing so pretty, my little dove,” he cooed into your ear as he held you tight. His hands splayed against your stomach and rubbed gently, carefully and slowly moving upwards. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt your body tingle with a mixture of fright and excitement, warmth blooming where his hands trailed.

Jungkook turned you in his arms, pressed his chest against yours as his fingers caressed the side of your delicate face, a loving smile on his lips. He moved slowly, with intention, towards the plush bed behind you. His eyes never left yours, peering into them as if he could see your inner most desires. It made your body feel engulfed in flame.

“Please, let me have you,” the prince asked. His voice was sweet, pleading and desperate. He guided you towards the bed and the press of the firm mattress behind your knees made you fall with a soft gasp escaping your lips. “I need you, my love. I need to taste you, please.”

You found it hard to say no, hard to say anything at all despite the warnings sounding in your head. As confused by him and this entire situation as you were, you couldn’t help the magnetic pull you felt when he held you close, or the way your heart throbbed when he was around.

“Y-yes,” you replied, voice timid.

His body hovered over you, lips inches from your own and you felt your body press further and further into the bed as he encroached over you.

“Yes, what, little bird?” He asked. His voice was light—sensitive and loving. His eyes spoke volumes. He looked at you as if he wanted to claim every inch of you, make you his physically and emotionally for the rest of his life.

You swallowed hard as you lied down, head resting on the soft pillows, as your eyes connected with his. Any doubt had slowly left you as the warmth of his body seeped into your clothes and into your very core. It felt like a fire was building, growing larger and more intense, in the center of your thighs.

“Yes, please,” you whispered.

Your answer pleased the prince—he moved down further until his lips connected with yours. His hips pressed into your own and you could feel his hard length against you—making you gasp into his kiss.

It spurred Jungkook on, his tongue taking advantage and sliding into your open mouth to caress and lick at your own tongue. He moaned lightly at the taste of you, so sweet and perfect—just like you. He wanted to taste it for the rest of his life, have the sweet essence of you on his tongue every single night. He was sure if your mouth tasted so sweet, your drenched folds would taste even better.

“Let me see you,” he whispered as he pulled away from your honeyed lips. “Please.”

His voice was so desperate--so full of love and desire for you that the fire within you blazed higher. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the prince at all, and you found yourself wondering why you ever resisted in the first place.

After receiving your consent in the form of a nod, Jungkook pushed the fabric of your dress up from your thighs. His strong hands smoothed over the soft, plush skin and you shivered at the feeling of his warmth that lingered where he touched. He continued pushing the dress up until it exposed your stomach and core to him.

His eyes explored every inch of your body. He was mesmerized by the way your stomach curved and your hips swelled. Your body was finer than any of the paintings in his castle, more valuable than the jewels glittering in his reserves. His breath came out heavier as his vision trailed to the linen of your panties, the very ones he provided for you. Jungkook loved the way you looked in the clothes he picked especially for you--his gorgeous, little songbird.

Your hands clutched at the bunched material of your dress and you desperately sought to take it off, expose yourself fully to the handsome prince above you. Your body squirmed as he continued drinking you in, hurrying to take the rest of the fine dress off your body. Jungkook noticed your discomfort, and moved to help you pull the dress up and over your head. The gesture was sweet, so sweet it felt like an ache in your heart and your core.

Jungkook threw the garment aside, no care for the price or quality of the dress. His only care was you, now nearly naked and pliant underneath him. If he thought the hills and valleys of your thighs were mesmerizing, he was wholly unprepared for the sight of your breasts.

He could feel his mouth drying up as he watched your nipples prickle in the chill of the castle’s air. He was sure he stopped breathing as he watched your chest rise and fall with each deliberate breath you brought in and expelled. He felt his tongue dart out of his mouth to moisten his lips, eyes glued to the pretty pink nubs of your breasts.

“My dove,” he gasped.

Your eyes were wide, pupils blown with a mixture of anxiety and lust, and your hands sought to grab at the cloth of his shirt.

“Please, Jungkook,” you whined softly. Being so exposed, so vulnerable to the man above you made you needier by the second. You were sure you couldn’t stand another minute under his intense gaze without him touching you somewhere, anywhere.

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed at the sound of his name rolling off your sweet tongue. He felt his body nearly tremble, and he knew he needed to hear it for the rest of his life. There was no way he could let you go now, now that he would have you fully.

“What do you need, my love?” He asked as he smoothed a hand over your delicate stomach and up towards your ribs. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give you everything you could ever want.”

Your back arched off the bed as his warm hand pursued up your body until it summited the crest of your breast. He marveled at the way his hands fit over the soft globes, and how perfectly they fit in his palms. He knew you were made for him--that you were the only one meant to be with him. Everything about you reminded him that you were made for him.

His fingers pinched at a nipple and he sighed as he heard your soft, gentle squeak at the pinch. His stomach tightened painfully, and his cock strained hard against the linen of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself between your plush thighs, but he knew he needed to to worship you, to make you feel like the princess you would soon become.

In one swift movement, his head bowed down piously to pull a nipple into his mouth while his fingers maintained pressure on the other. He moaned around the bud in his lips, the way it felt against his tongue and the sweet flavor of your skin. Your keening gasps and sighs encouraged him, making him suck the nub in further and tongue swirl around it.

Your body felt grazed with tiny pinpricks of pleasure, electrifying you down to your veins. You have never felt such pleasure in your life, never knowing the touch of a man. But you’re sure that no man could compare to the way the prince felt above you, pressing his worshipful kisses to your breasts.

Jungkook switched to your other breast, frenzied to taste and consume you--every last inch. He fervidly licked at your prickled nub before he pulled it into his mouth and allowed his tongue to explore and pleasure it.

“J-Jungkook!” You gasped at the feeling. His other hand rubbed and pinched at your abused nipple so well it made your legs tremble.

He popped off your breasts but maintained his grip on you with his hands, a toothy smile brightening his features as he peered at you.

“Yes, my dove?” He asked as innocently as he could. He knew this action was driving you mad. He could tell by the way your hips bucked and swayed that your channel would be slick and burning with desire by now.

“More, please,” you begged. “I need you to take me.”

Jungkook kissed his way down your sternum, lavishing kisses at your navel and skin of your thighs. He wanted no part of you left untouched, unclaimed by him. He meant to have you in every sense of the word. The prince was determined to ensure every single part of you was conquered by him, and him only.

Jungkook was eager to get the remaining fabric off you. His deft fingers swiped at your covered slit, smiling as he felt the wetness pooling there. He hummed deep in his throat as he made himself comfortable between your thighs. Jungkook noticed how comfortable, how natural it felt to be between your thick thighs. He wanted to leave marks all over them, physical reminders of his claim of you.

You stirred gently, awkwardly, at the intense gaze that the prince was holding with your barely covered decency. His stare was intense--it fanned the flames within you, making them lick hotly at every inch of your being.

Jungkook tugged at the thin fabric between your thighs, pulling it down your legs gently, as if he was unwrapping the finest and most delicate china. His breath caught in his throat as he threw them to the side and your centre became exposed to him. You bloomed below him like the most beautiful rose, petals opening and slick with arousal. His tongue sought out of his mouth, anxious for a taste of what he was sure to be the most delicious nectar.

“My beautiful,” he sighed as his hands pressed your legs further apart. You whimpered gently, the feeling of the cold air rolling over your heated body was nearly driving you insane. Jungkook stared at you as if you were his final, mortal meal. Jungkook nearly salivated at the sound and the way your legs trembled with need--...need for him.

His face inched closer and close, desperate to be buried face first in your pretty cunt, but careful not to scare you. Jungkook loved you, passionately and desperately, and he quaked at the thought of terrifying you further. You were his little dove--you needed to be loved slowly, gently.

“I want to taste you, my love,” he murmured as his face settled centimeters from your exposed folds. “Please, will you let me have you?”

Your bottom lip trembled, and your eyes were wide with arousal. The growing ache and need for him was surging through your veins swiftly, swirling in your mind and clouding any thought that wasn’t the handsome prince, and the way his hands and body felt against yours. All you could think, all you could comprehend was him--only him.

Your head nodded quickly in reply. “Yes, please, sir.”

Jungkook stifled a groan at the sound of the honorific leaving you. His spine tingled and he nearly lost all resolve to remain composed. You drove him mad, and it took all he had to not claim you fully and deeply there, now.

With a gentle kiss to each side of your luscious thighs, Jungkook worshiped each inch of your skin as he worked towards the apex. He let the sounds of your pleasured sighs and keening gasps roll over him like fine silk. As he reached your center, he gently bowed his head and pressed a soft kiss to your clit, before allowing his tongue to dart out and taste a droplet of your slick.

He pulled his head back and closed his eyes in bliss as the flavor blossomed on his tongue. You tasted so sweet, and earthy. Like a mulled wine, sweet and honeyed and intoxicating.

“Perfect,” he admired as he lowered his head back down. “I knew you’d taste so sweet, so perfect.”

Jungkook eagerly got to work now, tongue gently caressing the nub of nerves that had your legs quaking at each tender lick. He couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, succumbed to his desire and pliant underneath him. He wished to be buried in your sweet cunt for ever, both mouth and cock. He knew now, irrevocably, he would never be able to live without you.

He drank from you as if you were the last fountain on earth, the only source of his hydration. His tongue worked eagerly, dipping into the pools of your tight heat and licking up the sweet wetness that pooled. He couldn’t fathom how one little angel could taste so sweet, feel so good against his tongue.

Your sweet sighs and moans spurred him on. Your legs trembled gently and with each caress of his tongue on your nub, your sounds only increased in volume and in need. The prince was eager to get you to your high, make you feel euphoria caused by him and him only.

Your legs quivered and you gasped his name, and he couldn’t help but smile. A finger slid into your walls, coaxing your climax with each curl and press of his finger against the tender spot inside you. It made you nearly scream with how delicious it felt, and Jungkook knew you were near the end. He increased his pressure and speed of his tongue, and curled another finger inside of you.

“Cum for me, my love,” he encouraged between licks. “Let me taste you.”

You were no match for him and his words, dripping in unadulterated love and need. His eyes connected with yours and your climax washed over you swiftly. Your back arched and hips squirmed as your walls fluttered and milked his fingers, begging for more--so much more.

Jungkook fervidly licked at the juices that slowly trickled down his fingers from within you, cleaning his hand as he let it slide from within you.

“My little dove,” he sighed. “You taste so sweet when you cum for me.”

Your breaths came out hard, as if your lungs hadn’t worked for hours. You inhaled sharply as you watched him continue to devour the juices on his hands and you felt your spine tingle in response.

Jungkook’s hard length was hard against his trousers and you were desperate now to have the man buried inside you.

“Jungkook, please,” you gasped, hands reaching for the man who now sat above you. “Please, take me.”

The prince’s heart nearly melted to the floor of the castle at your desperate plea. You were his, you knew now that you were his. He made quick work of the cotton trousers and shirt, tearing them off his body until he was just as naked as you. He knew this is how he wanted to be, always. No clothes, no barriers, nothing to stand in between him and you, his perfect little dove.

“I’m here,” he soothed as he pressed his lips to yours. “Let me take care of you, my princess.”

He easily lined himself up with your heat, rubbing the bulbous head against the slick and nearly entering when you swiftly grabbed his arms and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” you whispered, shame coloring your cheeks. “Please… please don’t hurt me.”

Jungkook stopped breathing, the world stopped turning. He couldn’t believe his luck--his dove, his princess... all his. You would become his in every sense of the word. He will have what no man has ever had before, and never get the chance to take. He kissed at your lips gently and nodded.

“I’d rather cut off my own hand than hurt you even once.”

Your eyes softened, soothed by his words and actions, and you nodded gently.

“Take me, Jungkook.” Your words were brave, and ready. Jungkook felt his cock twitch with excitement, and he pressed one final kiss to your lips as he lined himself up and pushed in gently.

Jungkook pulled away from your lips to gasp. Never had he felt such incredible, tight heat. He could tell by the scrunch of your features that you were adjusting to his thick length. Despite your first climax, your body still resisted the press of his cock inside you. It felt like scorching wet heat and the tightness alone nearly made the prince cum as he bottomed out.

He remained still within you as your body relaxed. His hands rubbed gently at your hips and thighs, caressing them sweetly as he whispered his praise to you.

“You took me so well,” he murmured. “My little dove, so good for me. You’re doing so well.”

You whimpered out in need, desire for him to move inside you. The pain melted away to pleasure quickly, and you’re thankful he spent so much time preparing you with his mouth and fingers. The tender care the Prince showered on you made your heart beat rapidly against your chest, working over time like the beat of a bird’s.

“Are you ready, my sweet?” He asked. He could feel his cock ache with the need to set a pace, to feel the way your walls stroke him, but he would not allow himself such pleasure without your word.

“Take me, Jungkook, I’m yours.”

He moaned loudly, allowing the possessiveness of your voice to spur him to begin.

He started his movements slow and with intention. Each drag out and thrust in, he monitored your face for any sign of displeasure. When all that crossed your features was blissful pleasure, he moved faster.

Your body relaxed ten-fold as the man above you began to drill harder into you. The pain of the stretch was nearly gone by now, replaced only by a sizzling bliss that had your mouth gaping open and begging for more. Sweat began to gather at the prince’s brow and you’re taken by how handsome he is, how truly carnal he looks as he pounds into you with no abandon.

Your walls accommodate him perfectly, gripping him tight while still allowing passage. Jungkook felt as if your very cunt was made for him, molded to be his exact match. He could feel himself nearing closer and closer to the edge of bliss--climbing so high to the peaks of climax.

Your body was racked with pleasure. It poured out of your body in sweet sighs and torrential trembles. With each delicious push and pull of his cock within you, the fire grew and grew. It swirled around your body, clawed at your neck and clouded your mind with smoke. All you knew was Jungkook, his thick length, his warm body, and the way his eyes burned holes into yours. Each thrust sent you so much closer to another dizzying peak and your fingers gripped at his arms tighter.

He could tell by the rapture on your face that you were close--could feel it in the fluttering of your walls.

“Cum for me,” he groaned. “Let go, little dove. Let me feel you.”

You whimpered needily, groaning as the prince continued to thrust into you at a turbulent speed. He licked his thumb before allowing it to circle your clit, the bundle of nerves nearly screaming to life as he stimulated it.

Jungkook licked his lips as he watched your body come nearly undone at his touch. He could feel the way his body was building and climbing towards a grand finish, one he wanted to bury deep inside you.

“G-going to cum,” he groaned as he increased his strokes. ‘’I will fill you so well, you feel so good..’’

Never had you felt closer to another person, another man. Jungkook was truly the only one in the world for you, and you could never stray away. His hands gripped you tight and possessively as he powered his way to his finish.

“P-please!” You gasped as your vision started to dot with black spots. You couldn’t speak, breath overtaken by gasps and whimpers of need, as your body finally peaked at it’s high. Your moans were loud as you soared into the blissful pool that only Jungkook had ever taken you to. Your walls contracted around him tightly, squeezing and coaxing his cock to release his own pleasure inside you.

Jungkook lasted mere seconds after feeling youl grip him so tightly, and hearing your sweet dulcet voice sing praises and whines. His cock pulsed as he emptied himself into you, hot cum painting your sweet walls and pooling in your womb.

A long moment followed where Jungkook was just.. staring down at your exhausted form from above. His overgrown fringe clung to his clammy skin, lips swollen from biting down on them more often than not, and chest heaving up and down as he emotionally gathered himself back into one piece after shattering for you.

‘‘My love,’’ He whispered as he leaned down over you once more, sweaty skin sticking together. But no matter, he wouldn’t want you any other way right this moment. He gently moved his lips against yours, all while still keeping himself deep inside of you, making sure nothing would be spilled to waste, ‘‘My beautiful Y/N.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips when he calls you by your first name. You reach out to brush his fringe away from his forehead, combing his dark, soft locks with your fingers, ‘’My dear Jungkook.’’

Jungkook’s heart almost stopped. You’d said a lot of things, you’d even given him your body. But you had never, ever had referred to him with any term of endearment until now. It was always his name, or his title.

‘‘What did you just say?’’ He asked, one hand cupping your face gently to guide your eyes to meet his own. He looked at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but if you tried to name them, it’d be a mix of confusion, joy, and relief.

‘‘My dear,’‘ You paused to place your hand on top of his, leaning your cheek into his palm further, ‘‘Jungkook.’‘

Jungkook’s hot breath fanned your lips as he sighed in content, eyes still fixed on you. He kissed you once, softly, before pulling back to look at you again.

‘‘Please say it now’’ He asked quietly. The hint of sadness and desperation wasn’t evident in his voice, however, his eyes didn’t lie. They were wide, intensely focused on your every single reaction as he anticipated your answer, ‘’Say you’ll be mine.’’

You were already his in every sense of the word, except one. He needed you to say it yourself.

And who were you to resist the prince?

‘‘I’ll be yours.’‘ You finally broke the silence. Jungkook’s eyes flickered between yours with his doe ones, desperately trying to find any sign of lies. But instead, all he could see was utter affection, and your truthful words finally sank in.

‘’Be my wife.’‘ Jungkook continued, leaning his forehead against yours, ‘‘I love you. I promise to always love you. Nobody else will be able to take care of you the way I can.’‘

You nod, a quiet ‘yes’ leaving your lips before you crane your neck to kiss him. You might’ve been confused, frightened, and even sad at times-- but now? You were happy.

Happy to belong to the prince.

Jungkook smiles against your lips, he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have found you.

Or rather, you had found him.

Either way, it couldn’t have been anything but fate. And.. Jungkook believed in that.

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carlyraejcpsen · 3 years

Text

alright, i’ve tried to keep quiet because i truly believe in karma and wanted this rp to close through the admin’s own actions and not give them any opportunities to blame it on me instead. it also felt like beating a dead horse, because i was sure they’d close the rp after losing a huge proportion of their active members and the majority of their diversity. however, after seeing multiple people sharing their experiences today, they are still posting promo posts and starting their event. so yeah, here’s my experience with @thevillagerp

NOTE: i no longer have screenshots from my conversations with the admins, as i blocked them when i left the rp for the sake of my own mental health, but i did save the text in my drafts, so the messages below are copy pasted. i have not edited them in any way. They also deleted my original anonymous messages off of their blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: racism, very vague allusions to homophobia and transphobia

so i was a member of this roleplay for around two months. during my time there, it was startlingly obvious that white fcs were preferred and prioritised, both from the fact that they got more plots and interactions in general and from the fact that admins never promoted diversity on the main. even now, they repeatedly say they “would still love to receive some more male and non-binary apps” while ignoring that they currently have a ratio of 8 fcs of colour to 24 white fcs. their diversity rules at the time were that 1/3 of a mun’s characters had to be played by an fcoc. so people could easily just play one or two white characters.

a while ago, i sent an anonymous message to the main asking if they had considered perhaps changing this rule to be 2/3 characters instead of 1/3, since there were so few muses of colour in the roleplay (as i said before, they’ve since deleted this from their blog so i cannot provide a screenshot). they responded that they had been thinking of upping the character limit to four instead of three, with a rule that 2/4 must be played by an fcoc. i gave them the benefit of the doubt and the time to enact this change, but nothing happened.

so a few weeks later, i sent them this message on anonymous:

I was wondering if you had thought any more about the diversity rules here? I know you said before that you were considering increasing the character limit, but I noticed that hasn’t happened and I wanted to know if that was a change we’re going to see or if you would consider changing the rules in another way? I’m really disheartened by the lack of diversity in the roleplay

at the time there were 18 characters of colour out of a total of over 60. they responded (again, i’m sorry i don’t have the actual wording since they’ve deleted the messages) that they had thought about it and decided against upping the character limit, but instead would be having a weekly “poc acceptance day,” where they would only be accepting apps with fcs of colour. they also said they were doing this “now that the waitlist was mostly cleared,” which meant that the rp was mostly at capacity anyway, so they needed to look more at how to encourage their existing members to promote diversity, since there weren’t spaces open for new people to bring them in.

i responded with another anon expressing my disappointment and pointing out that they had done more to prevent having too many celebrity characters than too few muses of colour, as at the time they had a ban on celebrity muses. i wouldn’t usually suggest a ban on certain fcs, but as it was something they had done for celebrity characters, then i supposed it was a reasonable option.

they didn’t even respond to this message and instead posted on the main asking me to come off anon to discuss it. so i did, and i sent them the following dm:

i didn’t want to come off anon because i honestly feel really ostracised in this group and didn’t want to make it worse, but i don’t want to drop this issue and you aren’t comfortable addressing it publicly so here we are i guess. like i said in my previous message, i really don’t see how a “poc acceptance day” is going to make anywhere near enough of a difference. people will just wait for the opportunity to play their white characters. there are only 18 characters of colour in a roleplay with over 60 characters. that’s less than a third, which is obviously concerning. what’s even more concerning for me is that these characters are more often than not overlooked. i am often ghosted when plotting, or people don’t even reach out at all when i like plotting calls or intro posts. and then i have to watch characters like leo almost exclusively interact with white women (i’m sure that’s not the only example, but it is the first that comes to mind as he is one of the more active characters).

so this issue goes so much deeper than there just not being adequate representation in the rp. i really tried to help, i suggested making it a rule that 2/3 characters need to be poc in my original ask and you mentioned upping the character limit in response. i was worried that my concerns were being brushed aside, but i waited a while to give you the benefit of the doubt and the space to discuss the issue. so you can understand why it was really upsetting today to learn that the one thing you suggested was dropped and instead replaced with something that is barely scratching the surface of the problem. and i don’t know if it was your intention, but by saying that you were waiting for the waitlist to clear, it comes across as not wanting to receive any backlash from people who would want to join with only white characters. and even if people did want to join with faceclaims of colour, they can’t because the waitlist is cleared. like i suggested, you could change the rules so that 2 out of 3 characters must be people of colour. or, as was your proposed idea, up the character limit to four. you could also put a temporary ban on white faceclaims until the ratio evens out. as i mentioned, it’s really distressing that this was something you were willing to do for celebrity characters, but not to aid diversity.

i also just want to make it clear that these have been the only anons i’ve sent, i know you’ve been getting other ones, but those weren’t from me!!

( for context, they were receiving anons from someone else claiming that they felt left out in the rp ).

i had hoped that coming off anon would show them that this was a very real issue which was affecting their members, as well as giving them a space to discuss it privately instead of on the main. they responded with:

Hi Em, thank you for coming forward. We really, really appreciate it and we understand it’s not an easy thing to do. We also appreciate you flying the flag for diversity so strongly. We can always strive to be better, we are on the same page with you here.

Let us just explain our decision making. Firstly, just to address the waitlist, that was certainly not at all our intention when we brought it up. It was a logistical decision with 5+ applicants having already waited a week for acceptance and aware of their position on a waitlist.

When we decided against upping the character limit (and therefore the 2/4 POC character rule), we thought a POC acceptance day could be a good alternative course of action. In our eyes, this was something that would probably bring more POC characters to the group than the 2/4 rule because we knew there weren’t going to be many muns taking up an additional fourth character. This was a rule we’ve seen other groups enjoy success from so we wanted to try it out here. Plus, we think a day that explicitly highlights diversity every week would bring the message to the forefront of everyone’s minds. As we said, we’re going to monitor this over the next couple of weeks to see if it brings any improvement because we’d really like to have it as an ongoing rule.

The non-POC ban is actually a measure we’ve spoken about too and we are considering putting one in place should this fail. Thank you for raising your concerns, know that we’ve taken them very seriously and we hope that you’ll trust our judgement in trying this rule out first to see where it leads.

first of all, i don’t think i even have to mention the wording of “flying the flag for diversity.” but the real crux of the issue here is that they supposedly wanted me to come off anon to discuss the issue, but instead just explained their idea further and didn’t take anything i said on board. they didn’t even say a single word about how i told them i felt ostracised and regularly got ignored. i knew from speaking to other muns in the rp who played muses of colour (and just from looking at the dash) that they felt the same way too, but of course was only speaking from my own experience.

i thought long and hard about how to respond to this, as i was so disheartened by their unwillingness to listen to their members and the fact that they didn’t care that i felt left out. it felt like they had asked me to come off anon just so they knew who was messaging them and therefore put a target on my back, so honestly the thought of being on the dash or talking to the admins made me incredibly anxious. before i had a chance, however, they responded again with:

Hi hun, we’ve continued discussing this issue over the last couple of days and we wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to put in place a non-POC ban instead. Thank you again for holding a mirror up to the group. We do hope that this will recorrect the balance.

so i waited to see how things would play out. they posted about this new ban here and pinned the post to the top of the main:

[ IMAGE ID: a screenshot from thevillagehq of an admin update, which reads: in the interest of keeping the village a diverse space, we are currently only accepting applications for POCs. please note that any apps or reserves submitted to us for faceclaims that are not POCs will be deleted. we will lift this rule once we see fit.

thank you for your understanding and your efforts in making this group a brighter, more inclusive and diverse place for all. /END ID ]

this rule remained in place for around two weeks, during which time they made almost no effort to promote it. the above post was pinned to the main page, but that was the only mention of the ban anywhere on their page, they didn’t update the rules page or even put a note on the application page about it. during this two week period, the admins posted 10 promo posts, none of which suggested fcs or even mentioned the ban or diversity at all. the ban was then lifted suddenly when the pinned post was removed and the admins just went back to accepting apps with white fcs. the ratio had only evened out in those two weeks (from 18 out of 65 to 24/50) because of people going inactive or leaving, and there was nothing put into place to continue to promote diversity after the lift of the ban. in the three days after the ban was lifted, the admins posted over 10 promo posts, the same amount they had posted during the entirety of the ban. it was clear that they had no intention of actually making changes in their rp and had only done so because i refused to drop the issue.

again, i thought a lot about what i wanted to message them. i knew at this point that they didn’t want to make any real changes, but i still felt like i had to make it clear to them how disappointing their actions were. once again, i was messaged before i even had a chance, this time for bubbling.

as you can see in the above correspondence, i had told the admins point blank that i felt left out and ignored in the rp because of the characters i played (aubrey plaza, mj rodriguez and keiynan lonsdale fcs. all of my characters were queer and used either she/they or they/them pronouns). as a general rule, the only people who wanted to write with me and have interesting plots with me were people who played other muses of colour. the rp had a rule that you must reply to 3+ muns on every character, which i had been doing. i had only been back from my hiatus for a few days at this point and had responded to 6 different open starters the day prior. their message to me read:

Hi hun. There’s something we wanted to address to you directly. It’s been expressed to us by multiple members during these last few weeks that they have felt excluded by your character within the group, especially when it comes to the friend bubble that has formed between Mars, Bowie, Luvena, Asher and others.

While we encourage the development of friendships and trust that this isn’t intentional, we have a zero tolerance for bubble roleplaying at The Village. We are aware that our three mun activity rules have been met by all parties involved, however, bubbling is usually a little more nuanced than that and it seems it has unfortunately begun to create a bit of a divide within the group.

We have already issued individual warnings to a few people within the bubble, however with multiple members still expressing their concerns to us, we decided it would be better to address the group as a whole. We hope that by pointing this out to you, you will try and branch out to your fellow members a little more from now on - and try and be a little more inclusive when it comes to everyone else in the group.

We take such matters very seriously as admins, and while we hope it won’t have to come to this, there will be consequential steps taken should we not see any changes in your interactions in the weeks to come.

as you can imagine, i was incredibly upset to receive this message after already telling them i didn’t get plots from many of their members and they had done nothing. even people who i had previously messaged continued to only write with the same few white characters. i don’t deny that we definitely had a friendship group between our characters, but there were multiple people in that roleplay, including the admins, who only cared about ship plots or plots with the same few muns. me and other people who received the same message had all previously told the admins that people aren’t plotting with us and gotten ignored, so receiving this message made it clear that they neither cared about us nor wanted us in their rp. and so i responded as below:

yeah i literally told you i felt left out because there are multiple people only writing with white characters and you never addressed it, so this message is honestly insulting. i have reached out to almost every new member, responded to multiple open starters and have tried to plot with as many people as possible. like i told you, i am often left on read or people don’t even message me at all. if people do message me, i am usually expected to put in all of the effort and if people aren’t interested in actually developing plots with me then i am obviously not going to force my characters on them. all of my characters are queer, non binary people of colour and the harsh truth of this roleplay is that people don’t care about them. i even wrote out a whole list of 20 detailed suggested connections in an attempt to get more plots and nothing came from that either. i’ve even gotten anonymous hate saying that offering to explain my characters’ pronouns was “patronising,” which i didn’t feel like i could approach you about because, when i told you about how i’m feeling excluded, you didn’t care.

so if i only have actual plots with the people who actually care about my characters, i make no apologies. i also don’t even have threads with half of the characters you named, asher being the only one, and have literally only just come off hiatus. so please explain how i am bubbling, because this really just feels targeted at this point.

you’ve made it endlessly clear that this rp isn’t a safe space for people who want to play diverse characters. the main was practically silent while you had a ban on white faceclaims, which you never actively promoted, and then you dropped that suddenly without putting anything else in place. you also deleted my initial anonymous messages asking about diversity as if you were trying to hide that there was ever an issue. you turned anonymous messages off, so that no one can safely criticise you. because i did that off anon and ever since it has felt like there is a massive target on my back. my characters have been “accidentally” on the activity checks multiple times despite me being on hiatus (people get a notification that they were tagged even if you remove their name from the list btw). plus when i asked for an extension on my hiatus, you said that you would allow it “just this once” which now makes me feel like i can’t come to you if i’m busy. right now, for example, i am in the middle of moving house, but i’m also stressed about trying to stay active because you have made yourselves completely unapproachable.

the ratio only evened out slightly because members left. then suddenly after the ban you’re posting multiple promo posts a day??? you couldn’t get more obvious. i came to you about diversity in good faith, hoping that it was something you were unaware of, but you have made it abundantly clear that you actively do not want to promote diversity in your roleplay, we are just here to be witnesses to your ship. there are multiple members who are actually bubbling who have been brought to your attention, but nothing has been done. leo continues to only write with the same three white and white passing characters. charlotte pretty much only appears to write with leo and post a vague “message me for plots” post that wasn’t even tagged. both of you only put effort into your ship threads with each other and the occasional text threads. even with something like group events: while i’ve been here, there’s been a pride event that neither of your characters were even in new york for (an event where i was the only one reaching out and posting multiple starters, by the way); there was no event last month, and this month all you’re talking about is this housewarming party.

i’m really disheartened that it’s come to this, but i can’t be here anymore. please post unfollows for all my characters. you’ve said multiple times that we should trust you as admins, but this message shows again that i simply can’t do that. from the disregard of trigger warnings, to the way you treated being held accountable for the lack of diversity, to how you respond to people asking for hiatuses, this isn’t a safe space. even if i stayed, the target you have placed on me is making it insufferable to just write my characters in peace.

the other muns who received the same bubbling message (copy pasted btw, we all got the same one word for word) all responded with their own concerns and criticisms in responses of a similar length to mine. none of us received a reply, our unfollows were just posted the next day without any further responses from the admins. a few of the other members who had written and plotted with us chose to leave as well, which the admins wrote off as us just dragging them with us as opposed to them being able to make their own decisions and being aware of the situation (which was incredibly obvious. no promotion of a white fc ban, suddenly being active on the main once they try to stealthily drop the ban, then the majority of their muses of colour leaving???)

i haven’t paid the rp much attention since i left, as i mentioned above i blocked the main and the majority of the members just for my own mental health. but from a quick scroll through today i can see that the only change in diversity rules is that now instead of your third character having to be a poc, it is now your second. however, you still only have to have 1 character out of 3 have a fc of colour. so very little has been done, but of course i’m not surprised in the slightist.

these admins don’t want diversity in their roleplay. if you play any character who isn’t a rich, white, cishet neurotypical, please avoid it at all costs. it’s not in any way a safe environment.

#rpc #rpt #rp #thevillagerp #hope this makes sense i think there's a lot that needs context and hopefully i did a good enough job explaining #sorry to my non rp followers this blog is such a mess

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