#but when she asked him at the jury about it again and he answered I knew that was it but his answer was real regardless so whatever ig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 3 months

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Hi! Could I request a plus size!reader with James? Maybe where she gets upset because she can’t wear his clothes and she can’t do cute little girlfriend things like him picking her up and stuff like that?

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: size insecurity

modern au ig because new girl

James Potter x plus size!reader ♡ 956 words

“I’m kind of thinking of jumping back to season four,” you call towards the bedroom. “Jess is about to leave for jury duty, and I don’t like those episodes as much.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got them all memorized anyway,” James says back. “Why don’t we just watch Friends instead?”

Your mouth twists even though he can’t see it, but luckily, the feeling behind the expression carries in your voice anyway. “Because it’s not as good.”

“Okay.” James rolls his eyes lightly as he emerges from your bedroom, now clad in pajamas to match you. “We can do New Girl again, but I need my pillow, please.”

You sigh heavily, feigning reluctance as you uncurl your legs from underneath you and prop your feet on the coffee table. James hurries over, sprawling out on the couch and settling his head on the cushion of your thighs. He’s due for a haircut. His thick curls spread out around him like the sun’s rays. He smiles up at you, dopey, and you tamp down a grin as you start the episode.

Not ten minutes in, there’s a flashback about when one character was in college. Bigger, dorkier, romantically inept. It’s played for a laugh. You glance down at James. He’s wormed a hand under your leg and is kneading the fat there like putty. It’s an absentminded gesture, nothing critical about it, but you wonder if he’s correlating you with the actor on screen, bumbling and the butt of the joke in his fatsuit.

You comb a hand through James’ hair, and he looks up, catches you watching him. He’s never been one to mind being observed. He shoots you a smile, catching your hand with his other and pressing it to his lips.

You smile back. “Do you ever wish you had a skinny girlfriend?” you ask him.

If he’s surprised by the abruptness of the question, he doesn’t show it. “Nope,” he answers. “Never. What would I do for a pillow?”

You consciously keep your smile in place, fixing your eyes back on the screen. The one character is telling the story of how embarrassing it was to lose his virginity. Like sex was borderline impossible, just because he was chubby.

You feel James’ head shift on your legs, and look down to find he’s turned towards you. “We manage just fine,” he whispers conspiratorially.

You exhale amusedly through your nose. “Yeah? I don’t near crush you every time?”

“It’s really cute that you think you could, lovie.”

You roll your eyes, letting them land on the TV. “Sometimes I wish I could do more…quintessential girlfriend stuff.” You can feel James’ eyes on you, but he keeps quiet. “Like when girls steal their boyfriend’s hoodies and stuff.”

You look down, and James’ eyebrows have lowered slightly. “You could borrow my hoodies if you wanted to,” he says. “Angel, you know I think you’re the perfect size, don’t you? Do I not tell you that enough?”

You give him a little smile, shoulders coming up bashfully. (He does. He makes little comments all day long—how pretty you look, how he loves your thighs, how soft and warm you are when you’re cuddling, how lovely and squishable your ass is in his hands.) “It’s not you,” you say, “it’s just hard not to think about those girls who, like, drown in their boyfriends’ clothes, you know? And your stuff fits almost tight on me.”

James looks at you considerately, nodding. You and he aren’t vastly different sizes, with James’ bulky frame and wide shoulders. You just…he treats you like you’re precious, but sometimes you wish you looked precious standing next to him, too. You wish he could pick you up with one arm or make jokes about you being tiny like a chihuahua or whatever else it is the boyfriends of petite girls do.

“I realize this is rather selfish,” James says, “but I actually quite enjoy that I’m able to borrow your clothes from time to time.” He glances pointedly down at his shirt, which you now realize has been pilfered from your wardrobe. “And if it’s baggy clothes you’re looking for, I could always get a couple loose-fitting hoodies, wear them around and get ‘em all smelled up, and then pass them on to you.” You must look about as lovesick as you feel, because his smile returns, brown eyes sweetly knowing. “Does that sound like something you’d like?”

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip to keep from beaming too embarrassingly. “Yes, please. Thanks, Jamie.”

“Course.” He gives your thigh a hearty squeeze, turning his head to press a wet smooch to your skin. “You know, those other girls are missing out on things, too,” he says. “I doubt their boyfriends spend so much time lounging on them, and I know how much you love it when I make your legs fall asleep.”

You snicker. “You’re right, I do love that.”

James’ smile spreads wider at your response. “I know you do, lovie. All for you, of course. Also, I know it’s not a hoodie, but I have that one red jumper that’s pretty big on me. You know the one?”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” You sit up straighter. “I totally forgot about that. Could I use it?”

“What’s mine is yours.”

“Thanks.” You scoot out from under him, and James sits up, upset.

“Oi! Where do you think you’re going? I was comfy!”

“To change,” you call back from halfway down the hall.

“Never change, angel!” You roll your eyes at the stupid joke, grinning to yourself. “I love you just the way you are!”

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livwritesstuff · 1 month

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another steve/college-aged daughter phone call bc i liked writing the last one

Steve is at work when his middle daughter, Robbie, FaceTimes him. He’s between clients, so he answers it, and his phone screen lights up with a view of Robbie standing in front of her floor-length mirror.

Without any preamble, she asks, “Do you think this is okay to wear to court?”

Steve squints at his screen long enough to see that she’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and what looks like an oversized suit vest with a white button down underneath.

“Uh…I dunno about the jeans, hon,” he replies, and then his brain catches the court part of her question, “Wait – why are you going to court? Jury duty?”

“No, I’m contesting a parking ticket.”

“Another one?”

It’s true – since Robbie’s move to New York City for college a few years back, he’s lost count of how many parking tickets she’s gotten.

“This one was unfair.”

“She parked in a tow-zone,” he hears Moe supply from off-camera, “I thought it was nice they only gave her a ticket and didn’t tow it like they should have.”

“It’s not usually a tow-zone,” Robbie protested, “They should have made an announcement or something.”

“Like with a megaphone?” Moe asks, sounding baffled, and Steve has to hold in a laugh.

“Shut up,” Robbie fires back.

“Did they put up any signs, hon?” Steve asks her.

“No.”

“Yes,” Moe cuts in.

“Fuck off, Lucille.” And that does not go over well with Moe, obviously, because Robbie knows that calling her Lucille (which isn’t even her actual name; it’s just Lucy) is a spectacularly efficient way to piss her off.

Robbie’s phone is pointed at the ground so Steve can’t see what exactly is happening, but judging by the dull thump he hears and how it’s followed by Robbie’s frustrated “Stop it!”, he’d guess that Moe walloped her pretty good with one of Robbie’s many throw pillows.

“You stop it, Bedelia.”

And if Lucille isn’t Moe’s real name, Bedelia is even further from Robbie’s – it’s Amelia, actually, but Bedelia (as in Amelia Bedelia, the children’s book character) became a way for Moe to call her stupid without actually calling her stupid (a punishable offense in the Harrington house when they were growing up).

“Robbie, how much was the ticket?” Steve interrupts before the fighting can get too brutal.

“It’s not about how much it was,” she says as she flips the camera so he can see her face again, “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“It was only seventy dollars,” Moe tells him, “The outfit she bought was basically triple that.”

Steve sighs, and glances at the clock.

“Darling, I have to go. I really think you should call your Aunt Erica and see what she thinks about all this.”

#for reference erica is an attorney #robbie does not call her because she hates being proven wrong #that being said she does just pay the parking ticket #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #steddie dads

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bakananya · 1 month

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Not well written, but the idea was too interesting to just not write it down. I will prolly write a fic on ao3 with better writing, this is just to put the idea out there so I dont forget about it. Just an enemies to lovers Azriel x oc or azriel x reader idea I had, with a lot of random background Idea I had on the character. Its angsty, and not the best meet cute but you know, I got the idea from a dream after I fell asleep listening to look what you made me, I did something bad, you should see me in a crown and therefore I am on loop. Good dream tbh. Anyway enjoy!

"What do you want from me, Shadowsinger?" She spat out, her hatred for his kind evident in her tone.

He tilts his head to the side again, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He walked closer to her, his footsteps silent. "Nothing much, just curious as to why a young woman with no records of her existence is going out raiding, massacring and making so much chaos at illyrian camps?"

"They deserved it." She said quietly, but firmly. "If you're here for the women and their kids that are missing, they don't want to be found. They are safe, fed, comfortable and for the first time in their miserable lives, happy." She held her head high at the words.

"That did not answer my question. Why is a young girl such as yourself, carrying out such planned raids and missions? It can't possibly be to no end? What is your purpose?" He paused, giving her a moment to answer, but continued when she didn't. "You have caused quite the ruckus, you know? Become quite a threat." He said again, face still unreadable as he maintains the distance, knowing she could winnow away at any moment, in the cold and chilly mountains. It took months for him to track her once, he could not afford to lose her now.

"I will ask you again, Shadowsinger, what do you want?" She snarled.

"I am just trying to understand why you think a young girl like you is fit to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Justice is not something just anyone has the right to bestow." His words were veiled in amusement, as if all of her carefully plotted plans and raids were temper tantrums of a child, and not a movement in and of itself.

Her eyes glowed as her anger takes over and her magic her magic seeps out from her, uncontrolled and wild. The sheer strength of it had his amusement dying down into a look of wariness. "Do you want to know, Shadowsinger? You find it so amusing, don't you?"

He stares at her for a minute, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he realized her weakness.

Her wrath.

"It seems I struck a cord. I do not find it amusing, but rather pitiful, you are so young, with so much anger inside you. What a waste."

She stepped closer, her magic thrumming in the ground, yet her words were quiet, filled with a kind of contempt that could only come from years of experience of things better left unheard, and unseen. "They took me from my mother by force, chopped off my wings, used me for their pleasure and left me there to die. An illyrian camp. And no one. Did. A thing." Her eyes were glaring right into Azriel's, her eyes full of all consuming wrath, as her words reminded him of another female he knew.

She laughed, but no humor was present in her voice as she continued. "No one even knew. You and your high lord lived blissfully unaware while my existence crumbled." She hissed at him, stopping just a few steps away.

"I was broken, thought I would never find myself again as I struggled in a lonely cabin I found abandoned in the woods. Felt as if everyday, I was still there, half-dead on the side of the road. Of course I knew living in the cabin was mercy compared to how they treated the women in those camps, like slaves. And thats when a girl came knocking at my door, an escapee from a camp. We decided soon after to create a safe space, for people like us. And the rest is history." She continued, eyes becoming damp at the memory, before shaking her head and smiling slightly, so sweetly. Azriel almost forgot that she had slaughtered a few dozen men a few hours ago.

He tried to reach out silently to catch her as she finally got to a distance where he knew he could grab her, so he could get more information out of her, about things she were clearly omitting, only to realise, that he couldn't move.

He looked up at her in horror as she continued smiling, almost as if it took her no effort restraining one of the strongest illyrians in history.

It didn't, Azriel realised.

"And so we trained. And I took so much pleasure in breaking the bones of men in illyrian camps as we raided them. Saved the women that wanted to leave, took them with us, back to our hideout, expanded it until it became a thriving community. We raided camps and bring people back, who can pick whatever they excel in and work in tandem. It is what I deserved when I had nothing. What they deserve." She smiled, pride shining in her eyes as she now dropped down to sit on a log in front of him, more interested in a white wildflower glowing in the moonlight instead of him.

"Say, Azriel, You're half illyrian, are you not?" She asked, her voice higher, lighter, mocking. "You trained in one of their camps, with your oh so righteous brothers, did you not?"

She did not wait for him to reply, knowing he couldn't. She made sure of it from her magic, taking away his ability to speak.

"You know it as well. Your brothers do too." Her voice was bitter as she plucked the flower. "And yet you choose to hide away in your pretty little city of starlight, ignoring the pain these women go through every day." She finally looked up at him, eyes shining with contempt. "You're just as bad as them." She hissed. "Why shouldn't I shred your wings like your people did to me? Speak, Shadowsinger, speak."

It took a moment for him to realise he could speak again.

Azriel was frustrated, he understood where she was coming from but he could feel his defensive nature for his family coming up. "Rhysand tries. He tries his best to do things for the girls there. There's new laws, there's change. It's happening but these things take time. We are nothing like them."

"You're illyrian, they're illyrian. You saw the suffering of the women there and chose to do nothing about it. You high lord may have put new rules in place, banning clipping of wings, and starting the training of girls. But you and I both know it still happens. All of you do." She shrugged, back to examining the flower. Her face was young still, and her body lithe, Azriel's heart felt a little heavy at the thought of her past, but the anger he felt at being this defenseless in front of a young fae overpowered that.

A dark growl escaped his lips as his jaw tensed, his voice was raspy when he finally continued. "We are trying our best to keep track of it, to eradicate such malpractices comple-"

He was cut off yet again, but this time her voice was louder.

"Well trying is not good enough!" She snapped. "You don't even know it when it happens. You're too busy going on fancy dinners with your inner circle. If you are so good at protecting illyrian women, where are my wings, Azriel?" She hissed as she looked into his eyes as if she was looking into his soul.

He froze at her question, his hazel eyes widening slightly. His jaw was still tense, and he tried to move his body again, failing to do so. He didn't say anything, choosing to remain silent. There was a hint of shame in his eyes as he looked away.

She scoffed as she looked away again as she dropped the flower and stood up again, dusting off her hands against each other.

"Thought so. Anyway," She cleared her throat, putting on a sickly sweet smile. "I am bored and tired of playing with you now. Scurry off, like the dog that you are and tell your high lord I said Hi. I am sure a very interesting gossip session awaits the inner circle tonight." She finished, the end of her sentence blended with yawn that had her stretching her taut muscles as she freed him from her magic and disappeared before he could even get used to the control he now had over his body again.

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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Valentine's Day Tradition

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants to get you the perfect Valentine's Day gift. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Fluff, mix of nerves and confidence, slight feels (it's me), canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: For @the-slumberparty 's Blast From the Past challenge, I went with A New Tradition Bucky. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass, and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

As Bucky circled the shop for the umpteenth time, he felt like the worst boyfriend alive. Valentine's Day was almost here and he had no idea what to get you. Even though you assured him that he didn't have to get you anything, he refused to turn up at your place empty-handed. He also knew he wanted your gift to be something special, especially since it was the first holiday the two of you were celebrating together as a couple.

Why is this so difficult?

He knew well enough that you didn't want anything extravagant, like an over the top fancy dinner. The traditional route of flowers and chocolate didn't sound like a bad idea, but any guy could do that for you. What could he do to make it unforgettable? How could he make this Valentine's Day stand out?

"You're overthinking again, aren't you?" Steve asked.

"Steve, this is hopeless and I'm not overthinking," Bucky replied into the phone as his friend chuckled. "Okay, maybe a little, but why can't I figure this out?"

"Because you're overthinking."

"Like you didn't overthink with your gift," he argued.

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you," Steve said.

"I used to be good with women," Bucky sighed.

"You still are, otherwise you wouldn't be in a relationship."

Fair.

"The jury is still out on whether she made the right choice by choosing me as her man," he said.

"She's good for you and you know it," he said.

Steve was happy that Bucky started dating you. God knows he had to hear enough about you before you got together. It was only fair since he got to hear all about his writer girlfriend. He wondered when his best friend would pop the question.

Hopefully soon.

"So you really don't have any ideas?" Steve asked.

Bucky stopped in front of one of the displays where a few other guys stood. "No, but she did jokingly request no jewelry."

"Well, she does make jewelry," Steve teased.

A small smile touched his lips. You put so much thought and care into every piece you made. As nice as it was to maybe get you more tools and supplies, he could do that any day of the week. It wasn't romantic enough.

"Buck, I can practically hear you overthinking again," Steve sighed.

"Because I'm stuck!" he said, wincing once he realized he raised his voice and ignoring some of the funny looks he got. "I just want it to be special, you know?"

"Then get her something from the heart."

"That's your advice?" he scoffed as he walked away from the jewelry. "This is for the beautiful woman who made me personalized dog tags. I'm just an old science nerd who likes to read and…"

Bucky trailed off as he stopped at another display. The answer was so simple. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?

"You figured it out, didn't you?"

"I did," he answered, smiling as he looked back at the jewelry. "And I may have even come up with a new holiday tradition."

"That's it. I can't eat another bite," you said, dropping your fork on your plate and rubbing your stomach. "You've outdone yourself."

Bucky's cheeks warmed as he smiled. He expected to be nervous tonight, but he felt good. Confident. It was nice to be comfortable in his skin.

He knew he wouldn't feel that way every day, but your smiling face made a huge difference.

"You helped me make the meal," he reminded you, reaching over to brush the corner of your mouth with his thumb. "But keep stroking my ego. I like it."

You grabbed his wrist before he could pull his hand away and teasingly nibbled the tip of his thumb. "Play your cards right and I'll stroke something else, Jamie."

This woman might be the death of me. What a way to go.

"So, you're telling me you want dessert," he smirked, purposely deepening his voice and licking his bottom lip.

You inhaled sharply as you released his wrist. Even though the two of you decided not to go out to dinner, he dressed nicely for you. The short dress you picked even matched the color of his top.

Proof that we fit together.

"I very much want dessert," you said, leaning forward on the table to give him a generous view of your chest. Was it impolite to stare? "I also want to give you your gift before we watch a movie."

Homemade meal, gifts, and a movie. It was the perfect, low-key evening. As long as you liked what he picked out for you.

If you hate it, I'm blaming Steve for the advice he gave me.

After clearing the table, because no way in hell was he making you clean, he joined you in the living room. The blanket and pillows were already set up on the couch and he wondered how far you two would make it through the film. Would you prefer for him to be a gentleman or an animal?

Maybe a bit of both.

"Since I didn't have your gift ready in December, I think it's only fair that you open your gift first," he said, setting the box on the coffee table.

"If you insist," you smiled.

The confidence Bucky felt earlier began to slip away as you examined the box and began to unwrap it. Maybe he should've picked prettier wrapping paper, even though it was going to end up in the trash. No, he had no reason to be nervous. You were going to love your gift.

I hope.

"Oh, my God," you gasped, smiling as you lifted up your present and looked it over.

The flower inside the glass case was unique and beautiful. The gold leaves shined as you spun it in your hand, along with the rainbow colored petals. The additional LED lights would bring an extra layer of brightness to your gift.

"I did some research after I saw a Beauty and the Beast display at a shop. It's called a galaxy rose. I know flowers are traditional for Valentine's Day, but I wanted something that would last," he explained, wiping his palm on his pants as you lifted the gift from the carton. When did he start sweating? "So I got you a rose that will never fade away."

Is that romantic or lame?

"It's perfect," you said, your eyes shining as you set it down and shifted on the cushion to face him completely. He let out a breath as you placed your hand on his cheek. The happiness that radiated from you was worth every moment he agonized over your gift. "I love it."

"I know it isn't the Beauty and the Beast rose, but it'll do," he smiled, placing his hand over yours.

"I'm clearly the Beast since I would gift you with a library if I could," you giggled.

We can build a library together.

"You're Beauty and you know it," he smiled, reaching into his pocket. "But there's still one more thing."

"There's more?" you asked as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and opened his fist.

In the palm of his hand sat a heart shaped rose quartz with the word "heart" etched in the middle.

"The science nerd in me and the jeweler in you. I mean, I'm not a geologist, but I thought this was fitting," he said, placing the stone in your hand. "You said you wanted to start new traditions. And for every holiday I spend with you, I want to give you a new stone with a new word. Something small, but meaningful for both of us."

Something from my heart.

Your eyes watered as you closed your hand around the quartz and for a moment you didn't speak.

God, you hate it. So much for new traditions.

"Jamie," you sniffled as a tear slid down your cheek. You opened your mouth to speak again, but instead pressed your lips against his. Heat rushed through him as he tenderly returned the kiss. "Thank you for making tonight so special. I won't forget it."

Mission success.

"The night isn't over yet," he whispered, unable to resist teasing you with his next statement. "I still have my gift to open."

You giggled, the quartz still in your hand as you pulled him back in for another kiss.

Best Valentine's Day ever.

New tradition in the books! Wonder what the next holiday will be. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

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ekdarnellbooks · 2 months

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Enzi the alien and Eleanor the human give in to their feelings for each other

Excerpt from Jury Duty

Pairing: male tentacled alien x female human

Tags: nsfw, 18+ only, tentacle smut, double vaginal penetration, creampie

Word count: 878

Enzi peered down at her, and between the intense stare and the tentacles enveloping her body, the pinch of arousal became a pulse, electricity shooting up her spine.

“Enzi,” Eleanor whispered, her voice raw with emotion.

“Yes, little human?”

What did she want from him? Her head swam, no longer with the incoherence of the concussion, but with the confusion of her own thoughts, of the way her body responded to him. The tentacles were warm and smooth as they caressed her body, one moving to brush her cheek.

“Do you fuck all of your guests?” It was a rude question, yes, and was that even what he wanted? Still, she had to know the answer. And when had she cared about propriety?

Laughter grumbled in Enzi’s chest, that wicked grin replacing his somber expression.

“No, I do not. I have never had sex with anyone on this ship, with any of the species I’ve eradicated.”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Eleanor’s chest constricted as she awaited his answer, the arousal pulsing through her core in time with her heartbeat.

“Yes, Eleanor, I very much want that, if you would let me.”

His words set her heart on fire as she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down towards her. Without thinking, she pressed a kiss against his mouth, though it was difficult with the way each of their faces were constructed. An electric shock to her core as Enzi’s tongue slipped out, brushing against her lips before moving its way down her jawline and neck.

Eleanor unhooked her bra, tossing it aside as Enzi worked his tentacles underneath her underwear, sliding them down her thighs and throwing them to the floor. His tongue was on her bare breasts now, wetness coating her nipples as Enzi swirled circles around them. Tentacles massaged her stomach and thighs, remaining agonizingly far away from where she wanted him.

“Please… Enzi.” Her need was frantic, a desperate urge to be filled, to be whole, after all that had happened.

Another grumble of laughter, not mocking, but gentle. Enzi ran a tentacle across her entrance, already slick with longing, and Eleanor let out a low moan. Over and over again, he caressed her, pressing in the tip and then retreating, before penetrating her fully.

Eleanor gasped at the sudden profusion, the way his tentacle pulsed in time with her quickened heartbeat, though a question nagged at the back of her head.

“You… don’t have a penis?” she asked between moans, as Enzi thrust his tentacle into her.

“I can use all of my functional appendages for pleasure and reproduction,” he said, and Eleanor took in a sharp inhale.

The tentacles were dicks!

All coherent thought left her mind as Enzi fucked her, a delicious rhythm that fanned the flames of arousal. Still, it was not enough.

“More,” she begged, desperate to be filled, desperate to forget.

Enzi obliged. A second tentacle snaked up her thigh, pressing at her entrance as she writhed against him. It prodded at her before sliding its way in, fitting snugly next to the first, like another piece of the puzzle.

Eleanor groaned and Enzi’s eyes flared, glued to her cunt, his tentacles thrusting in synchronicity. The sight should have been repulsive, fleshy pink appendages penetrating her, filling her to the brim, but it wasn’t. It was erotic, sensual, stimulating. It made all of her muscles clench as she teetered on the brink of orgasm.

“More!” she yelled and Enzi gripped her throat with a clawed hand, the tentacle extending from his elbow slithering towards her mouth.

Eleanor parted her lips for him as he pressed his way in, fucking her mouth in time with the tentacles in her cunt, leaving her dizzy with lust. A salty musk coated her tongue as her muscles tightened, contracting against him, the excess fullness pushing her over the edge.

All she could manage was a mumbled groan with her mouth full, bucking against him as the waves of pleasure washed over her. Eleanor wanted to cry his name as they became one, but this was enough. Aftershocks trembled through her, yet Enzi continued to fuck her.

“Are you ready for me, my bold little human?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

Ready for what? Eleanor just nodded, and Enzi let out a fierce groan.

Salty warmth in the back of her throat and filling her cunt, running down her thighs as the Khureno spurted his seed into her. Holy shit. It went on for longer than one would expect, until the groans turned to trilling moans, and then hushed silence.

Slowly, Enzi extricated his tentacles, first from her mouth, and then from her cunt, before collapsing next to her. Sticky seed spilled from between her legs, and she wiped the residue from her lips, swollen from his appendage.

Eleanor curled up in Enzi’s arms, exhaustion sweeping over her like a gentle wave. She should regret this. She should be disturbed by what she’d just done. Enzi was an alien, an alien who just killed a man she’d spent the last three weeks with. An alien playing God against the whole of humanity. The Khureno had wiped sixteen species out of existence. She should hate herself.

But she didn’t.

Not one bit.

#sci fi romance #writers on tumblr #monster fucker #monster lover #alien fucker #alien lover #tentacle monsters #tentacle smut #tentacles #alien boyfriend #alien x human #human x alien #terato #terat0philliac

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xerith-42 · 4 months

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*bats my eyes at you* spare some angsty headcanons perhaps?

Ask and you shall receive

Laurance is triggered by the smell of burning hair. Bro had hair down to his waist and then went into literal hell, I imagine so much of it caught on fire or was maybe even deliberately burnt, and it's such a distinct smell. It rarely happens, but if a stray spark from the fire accidentally catches on Cadenza's hair Laurance kind of freaks out a little. Fight or flight kicks in but he freezes but he also fights but he's also frozen and that smell is so awful he literally wants to rip his own skin off.

Katelyn doesn't ever think she'll love again. It's why she's so put off by Travis' advances, she just doesn't think it's a possibility. Every time she thinks about love she thinks about Jeffory. Seeing him on the island, even if it was an imp, did not help matters.

Kenmur still loves Sasha. He will always love Sasha. There is no amount of time that will stop him from loving her. Even if he also loves Emmalyn more than life itself, even if he's dedicated himself to his wife and his studies, there's still always that part of him that will answer to Sasha. Whenever she's around he can feel himself being pulled towards her just from the sound of her voice.

Zianna hates the sound of silence. So many years completely alone in such a huge estate. By the time Zane and Garroth disappeared, she was effectively estranged from her husband, only staying so they can maintain this cover of the Lord and Lady of O'Khasis. But their home is massive, designed for an entire family and then some. Even after Vylad and Garroth "died", Zane kept the house busy and often had Jury members present. The hollow emptiness of her home is nearly maddening for the poor woman.

The only reason Zianna never left is because she still held out hope for all of her sons. Zianna held out hope that any one of them would come stumbling in through the front door, likely beaten and bloody, and she would be able to take them into her arms and welcome them home.

This could very well turn into it's own post but here's a few small relic angst headcanons. Aph starts to lose her sense of self because sometimes she'll talk and it won't sound like her. They have mostly similar speech patterns, and she says things she would normally say, but it sounds like someone else, and she can never put her finger on it. Others notice, but nobody can quite figure out what's wrong with it. Until Zoey hears it and says it sounds familiar.

Travis usually likes to be a bit of a know-it-all, having a lot of random bits of trivia he's just learned from years of having nothing to do but entertain himself alone in a cabin, but sometimes the facts he gives are on subjects he never studied. He knows it's because of Enki's relic and he can't do anything about it. He hates how monotone his voice sounds whenever it happens, like he isn't even happy to know this information.

I'm sorry but we cannot gloss over how much turmoil Garroth would be over getting Esmunds relic after Zane already had it. He lies awake at night wondering what the three of them have in common, what he and Zane have in common at all. How could the protector bond with such a destructive awful man? How much is Garroth really like his brother? Can he even say he isn't like his brother if they were able to bond with the same relic?

Zoey may not have personally known all the previous relic holders, but she saw them. She was ten when Irene was walking among the mortals. Sometimes when she looks at her friends she sees... someone else. Someone so familiar, so similar to them, but the details aren't right. She can't tell if this is an effect of the relics or her own dwindling sanity/life force after giving up her immortality.

And entirely for myself because I will keep rewriting Aaron in my posts, Aaron feels such tremendous guilt like all the time. The survivors guilt has consumed everything he is, even the relationship that's supposed to be healing it. All he can think about is how he let everyone down, when he was supposed to lead them. Aaron wears the bandana not because he's hiding his identity, but to hide the permanently miserable look in his eyes.

#text post #minecraft diaries #laurance zvahl #minecraft diaries laurance #garroth ro'meave #mcd headcanons #mcd garroth #aphblr #mcd #aphmau minecraft diaries #travis valkrum #mcd travis #mcd zoey #zianna ro'meave #mcd kenmur #mcd emmalyn #mcd katelyn

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littlebitsmile · 2 months

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in flames [C.L.] | Chapter V

This is it, finally. With this chapter, we kick off the 2024 season and Emma takes part in her first official F1 race in Bahrain. I'm really excited about going forward with this, hopefully you are too.

Enjoy this chapter, breathe it in, feel it in your heart xx

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R V ɞ────

"How exactly does this work here?" I ask, while two screens of light shine directly into my face and three or four cameras are pointed at me. A makeup artist is just powdering the last of the anxious sweat on my forehead dry, and a young man is sitting opposite me with a script in his hand. Probably the same one that was sent to me two weeks ago.

"You introduce yourself with your name, which team you drive for, and then I'll ask you a few questions. Easy cheesy lemon squeezy," he replies without looking up from his script.

I can't deny that I'm afraid of messing something up. I still regularly attend the social media training sessions run by Aston Martin's PR department, but Netflix's Drive to Survive team is probably in a whole different league. At least most of the drivers have already warned me about it.

Someone shouts "30 seconds," and suddenly the room empties. The lights are still blinding, and apart from the camera lenses and three-quarters of the interviewer's face, I can't really see much. Just a dark room, almost as if I were the suspect in a murder case and was being questioned - creepy.

I'm handed a film flap with my name, my team, and "Take 1" written on it. I hold it up in front of me and wait for the interviewer's hand signal.

"Hi!" I wave at the camera. "My name is Emma Verstappen, I'm turning 21 this year, and I'm driving for Aston Martin as a rookie in my first Formula 1 season."

"Cut!" A little bit of shuffling around echoes through the room. "That's great, Emma. You're doing good!"

"Thanks, I'm trying my best. Do you need that again or...?" My voice goes up half an octave towards the end of the sentence, unintentionally.

"Ah, no, thanks! But you can answer a question for me directly! How does it feel to sit in this chair?"

"Honestly, like I've been accused." I laugh nervously into the camera. A montage of the last six seasons of the show plays in my mind's eye - almost as if my brain is warning me not to say the wrong thing or get emotional.

"Don't worry, the jury found not guilty. For now, at least." A brief pause as he flicks through his question pad and finally stops at a page. "Emma, when you think about the coming year, what do you feel?"

"You're not the first to ask me that, what do you think my answer will be?" I raise my eyebrows. After his interview, Max gave me the advice to be as detached as possible. Don't stir up drama. Don't take shots at other drivers. Then I take two breaths and continue: "This is a huge year, not only for me, but also for my team. Aston Martin has made a huge bet by putting me in one of their cockpits. But I have no intention of making them regret it."

"Completely understandable! Do you feel comfortable in your team? It was actually very surprising that you didn't end up with your brother's team, Oracle Red Bull Racing! Would you like to tell us briefly how that came about?"

"Well, you probably all know Max, and you don't know me, but let me tell you, even though I love him and he's my brother... we would need some more time to get acquainted with the feeling of being stuck in a team together. Our mom could tell you that as well - everywhere Max and I are involved, there is trouble to follow." I answer honestly. What I don't say is that Max didn't speak to me for a week and a half after I turned down Red Bull's offer to be a test driver for this season. That I had to explain to him almost every hour why the match with Fernando Alonso works better for me at the moment and that later, after I've proven myself, we can drive together until we're old and gray.

"Emma? Are you still there?" The interviewer waves his hand vigorously in front of my face. I apologize and ask him to repeat the question.

"As you know, some contracts are coming to an end this year, and that's why there are a few places with big teams that have been in high demand for years. With Lewis moving from Mercedes to Ferrari and some contracts expiring, for example, Sergio Perez at Red Bull - are you speculating on one of them?"

I have to think for a moment, do some soul-searching. Do I even want to join a big team? Is "Formula 1 World Champion" at the top of my list of dreams? Then I answer: "As a driver, every week you're fighting for your seat, especially this season. It's no longer about where I stand in the world rankings, but rather about the potential I bring with me. I am convinced that I will find my way - regardless of my brother, Red Bull, or anyone else. Where this path will ultimately take me... I don't think anyone really knows."

"Two more laps, Emma," Sarah orders over the team radio. She still doesn't speak much, but at least the radio communication works well. Will I ever have as much fun with her as I did with Enzo? Probably not.

"Copy."

I say copy, but what I really mean is I hate you. Forty-five laps under the desert sun of Bahrain, drops of sweat evaporating in my racesuit and making the fabric stick to my skin. I've been trying to suppress my thirst for half an eternity. At least the heat is now my only problem. During the first few test laps, I had to mentally remind myself several times that throwing up in a new car doesn't make a good impression - especially not on the official first day of work. That moment when you're standing at the end of the pit lane waiting to get the final go. In the first corners while hitting the brakes for the first time, my head got put back against the headrest, body compressed. It felt like my heart was going to give up at any moment.

Pre-season testing is the first chance to see if what my team spent the whole year designing is actually going to work. So far, the car feels great - a few comments here and there about oversteer, the right braking behavior, and the optimal line, but at least I'm not a total failure. At least, I hope I'm not.

Fernando has already completed laps in the three-digit range yesterday and this morning combined. I happen to be put in the same test window as Max. I didn't think long about whether this was perhaps intentional, so that we could compare ourselves better, but after the first few laps, the thought crept into my head and wouldn't let go.

As I return to the pit lane faster than expected and the engineering team pushes the car and me back into the garage, I realize that I'm still holding my breath. I take off the steering wheel, release the headrest, and squeeze out of the tight seat. A few mechanics murmur "Good job!" or pat me on the back, but no one says a word. I exhale. Then I look at the car again. Standing right in front of it while the green of the bodywork hits me - an indescribable feeling.

"You know I'm your biggest critic, but that was a good performance today. We can work with that," says Sarah as she comes to a halt next to me and compares graphs on her clipboard. She looks at me from the side, then glances at the car and back at me. "This is your car, you better believe it."

I laugh and nod. "Thank you, Sarah. I don't think that was such a bad practice. There's still plenty to do." As I start to speak, I take off my helmet, finally remove the hearing protection from my other ear, and walk towards my cabin in the back of the garage. Sarah is hot on my heels. "I feel like I have to turn the steering wheel a bit more on the right-hand bends... but maybe it's just because the right-hand bends are a bit faster than I originally thought. I don't feel the headwind as much as I did in the wind tunnel, you can really feel the aerodynamic adjustments on the sides straight away. Do you think I can do one or two laps, just running around the track tomorrow before the start of training? I feel like I don't have every corner completely under control yet and..."

"Emma," Sarah tries to interrupt me, but I keep talking. Unlike me, she is at a loss for words and never let me finish my thoughts during our first few weeks. But this is about our car, about the points, about moving forward and not standing still. I carry on talking impartially.

"...maybe I can have a quick word with Fernando tomorrow? I'd like the front end to be a little sharper, at the moment we still have a lot of leeway - only if it's okay with him."

"Emma."

"Hm?" Now I'm paying attention.

"You're in fifth place at the moment."

"Wow, I didn't think so. That's good news, isn't it?"

"Max is in P6," she says slowly, smiles and then leaves me standing alone in the corridor. My water bottle almost falls out of my hand. I turn around quickly and call after her.

"Hey! You can't just say something like that and then disappear," but she's already around the corner and isn't paying any more attention to me. Has she just smiled for the first time since I met her? And that makes me almost more nervous than the fact that I have beaten my brother for the first time.

I'm not that lucky over the next few days of pre-season testing. But the high from my first day of practice on the track carries me through the week like clouds, before we even get to the first three free practices. I stay in the top 10 during the practice sessions that are part of the race weekend, but I seem to have completely lost my groove in qualifying. Starting from 12th on the grid, neither I nor my team are particularly enthusiastic about my performance, and this contributes to the fact that I don't get much sleep the night before the actual race.

I also have to attend several photo shoots in between - not just from my own team but also the official ones. For the first time, I get placed in an all-male field of riders, which is why I am allowed to stand in the middle of the so-called "class of 2024"-picture this year. That is more than awkward for me, but in that respect I will probably have to get used to not being allowed to have a say. On this occasion, I also try to spend more time with my brother, firstly to get some first hand insider advice and secondly to get to know the people he gets on well with.

Carlos Sainz, who tried to persuade me at all costs to go and celebrate with the group before my first race - as a season opener – immediately melts my heart. When I thankfully declined, he laughed and told me not to worry so much - after all, the Verstappen gene is in me too. I didn't mention that I wasn't so sure about that. At the same time, I wish him all the luck in the world - after all, he is currently without a seat for 2025. Secretly, I hope that he achieves better results than Charles, but of course I'm not allowed to say that out loud.

I also have time for a game of paddle tennis with Max, Fernando, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo - none of them seem to care that I've never held a tennis racket in my life, let alone a paddle tennis racket. On the contrary, each of them patiently explains their way of playing to me, until at some point I'm sure that each of them has at least slipped me some false information so that I don't turn out to be a sudden natural talent.

Unfortunately, all these distractions have not helped to reduce the pressure. The pressure from my father, who follows every Instagram post with excitement and then asks me whether I can really afford to play paddle tennis with Max and whether he missed the fact that I already have a World Drivers' Champions title in my pocket, which would explain why I would think that some free time is something I am allowed to have. The pressure from my team, whose hopes are mainly pinned on Fernando, but a driver duo consists of two people and not everyone is convinced that this is the right place for me. So I continue to sleep uneasily.

Before the race starts, I march up and down in the garage with a pulse of just under 130. Outside, I see fans running past, taking their seats, while the structure of the course burns in a continuous loop in my mind. It feels like I remind myself every five minutes that I shouldn't pick at my fingernails and instead find my focus. Max wished me good luck as I left the hotel, and he meant it, but that's easy to say when you start from pole position and have literally nothing to loose.

I overhear Sarah being interviewed somewhere, but unfortunately, I can't quite make out who it is from the voice. The walls here are so thin that I can hear every little movement of the technicians on the car, so I'm not surprised that I overhear conversations that aren't really meant for my ears. Only the interviewer's question burns itself into my head: Do you think you put too much faith in someone who is still so young?

I immediately shake my head, grab my helmet and water bottle, and make my way to my car. There I high-five one or two mechanics and then squeeze into the seat of my car. The cable for the radio connection on my left shoulder is connected to the car, someone plugs in my steering wheel, and the crew slowly removes the heaters from the tires. I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel, squeeze harder, and then let go again. Sitting here feels right, just like the pedals under the soles of my feet and the muffled sounds that can’t quite reach my ears. I try to find my focus and go over the route again in my head. Too much faith in someone who is still so young. The colleague in front of my car gives me the signal to rev the engine and drive out of the garage. Then I'm pushed to the starting grid.

The next few minutes fly by. The impressions of the last few days, the ups and downs, the conversations with other drivers, but also the phone calls with my father and his criticism - everything is buzzing around in my head without having an outlet for it. My body is tense at every turn and I'm literally clutching the piece of metal between my hands. I keep counting to ten in my head and tell myself that everything will be fine, no matter where I end up today - at least that's what I try to tell myself.

The signal is given for the last call to leave the start area. I get some last looks before my team makes its way towards the pit lane.

"Let's go, Emma," says Sarah through the microphone. I nod, even though I'm aware that she can't see me. My brain empties completely during the warm-up lap. Quicker than I'd like, I'm back in my starting position and looking towards the traffic lights. I feel nothing, think nothing. This is the first race of the season and nothing has been won or lost yet. All the cards have been reshuffled and we can only really say how the cars will actually perform afterward. The first lights turn red. Red. Red. Red. Red. And then the lights go out, and my foot presses down on the gas pedal. This is the official start of the 2024 season.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter IV] [Chapter VI (in progress)] ɞ────

Tags: @cmleitora @alliwantisadonut

#f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #charles leclerc #slow burn #f1 imagine #haters to lovers

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inafieldofdaisies · 9 months

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Ship Art | John Seed x Sabrina Donovan | sketch by @felrija ❤️ || a scene from my WIP In Hope Of Tomorrow, snippet below the cut

"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

It felt like at least 2 hours had passed before the door opened again. Sabrina kept her eyes casted downward as a pair of boots came into view, crossing over the threshold, their owner humming a familiar tune. I know this melody. It was the song she sang in the cell. He was there, listening. The realization made her look up, her hazel eyes met John's as he neared, stepping into the light that spilled from the chandelier above. He was wearing jeans, a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and way too many buttons undone, on top of it was a vest that belonged more in a courtroom than in a bunker in the Middle of nowhere, Montana. "Kept you waiting, didn't I, Deputy?" A dark smirk marred his handsome face, his posture exuding confidence, like he was about to slip into an opening statement any moment. Only in this room he had full reign, assuming the role of judge, jury and executioner. "Probably should consider serving some tea, maybe redecorating your dungeon. Red's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't rate your goon very highly on any scale either." The comment made him chuckle, and she tried to ignore how familiar it sounded, how it pulled on her soul. "Now, I'm not usually late, but someone decided to attempt to derail my Cleansing.", at that he unconsciously went to smooth out his dark hair, making Sabrina realize it's damp. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?" Don't laugh again. And he didn't, sending a smirk her way instead. "Now, Deputy, enough jokes, there are more pressing matters.", his head tilted slightly, his expression almost... giddy. "What's a joke is you thinking holding a Deputy hostage is a good idea, you of all people should know it's far from it. Aren't you supposed to be a hotshot lawyer?", she couldn't stop her sneer. "Deputy-" Sabrina cut him off, "I have a name." "Yes. Sabrina Blythe Donovan.", he said it matter-of-factly, but Sabrina could tell he took pride in that knowledge. It didn't shock her he knew her full name, with Nancy being on Eden's Gate side no doubt information about the whole Sheriff's Department was leaking like a sieve. A dry laugh escaped her, "Next you're going to tell me the name of my first boyfriend." John crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Knowledge is power after all. And, Sabrina, you wouldn't be here if you didn't try to arrest my brother. You all had choice and it led to this." She pushed down the feeling at how familiar her name sounded on his lips, the twinge of longing it caused in her was nothing. It had to be.

"There was an arrest warrant. I was just doing my job. Your brother is a criminal, and now so are you and all of your people." "I'm doing MY job, Deputy. You're a sinner and so are your friends.", he retorted, his words full of conviction as he headed for his torture table. Sabrina froze, expecting him to notice a knife was missing, when he said nothing, she continued, "Why am I here?" The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the tone she used when interrogating suspects back in Portland, the one that got her straight answers and stripped away all the nonsense. John turned, a look of amusement flashing across his face as he leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankles. "I should be the one asking questions here, Deputy." "Old habits die hard, I was a-" "A detective back in", a dramatic pause, he raised a finger, "Portland. And you left it all behind to work for Whitehorse. Can't wait for you to tell me why." "I'm not telling you shit. I don't know what you think you're doing-" John stalked towards her with swiftness that took her aback as he grabbed the armrests of her chair, the force behind his movement making the wheels skid across the floor. His face had grown serious, piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he loomed over her. "You will talk, confess every sin, no matter how small. I know exactly what I’m doing here."

Their proximity sent a shiver up her spine and she tried to tell herself it was the bad kind. He was so close to a point Sabrina could smell the musky scent of river that clung to his skin. He had indeed taken a dive, her amusement at the confirmation died down quickly. His nearness, the position of his hands as he held onto the chair allowed her to see his tattoos in detail for the first time. In seconds her whole world came crashing down, her blood froze. No. She knew these tattoos, had seen them countless times in her visions, had drawn them over and over to the point they were embedded in her memory. NO. The hand holding hers as the world ended. The man that called her "Butterfly". It was John. John fucking Seed. His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "Hm. A butterfly." He was looking at her tattoo, at one of the butterflies that wasn't hidden by the strap of her top. As if she needed any more reminders of the tragic realization she had just came to, John said the damned word again as he backed away, "Why a butterfly, Deputy?" He was back to being nonchalant, like the outburst hadn't even happened. All she could do was blink, wishing her eyes were lying to her.

"You still with me, Sabrina?", it had finally hit him she wasn't replying, that she wasn't talking back. Breathe. Focus. Snap out of it. "Wish I wasn't, won't lie.", she tried to hold onto her composure. Silence took over as John went back to his table, picking up a tool, looking it over then placing it down with care and grabbing another one, repeating the process. It felt mechanical, like a show. Her own knife felt heavy in her hands, the tip prickling her skin, a wake-up call. She knew what she had to do in order to get back to Savannah, imagined it in the hours he made her wait on him. Plunging the blade deep, ending a life. But doubt was creeping in... Her plan, the dark path she planned to take, there was a chance she would fail, she had seen him alive too many times. And her most recent vision... from the sounds of that one he was breathing and pissed off. John spoke up again, his attention still on the table in front of him, "My brother's church. Let's start there. You saw something." It wasn't a question, he sounded sure of it. She hadn't been able to hide her distress, even tried to stop the arrest. A new path became visible. A plan with a giant leap of faith. Probably the most dumb and risky decision she has ever made in her life. He wanted answers, and she was going to play along. For now. "I will tell you what I saw, but I doubt you'd believe it, they never do." Another smirk, making her feel nauseous. "Try me, Deputy." "I saw the crash. Before it happened, I mean." "A vision.", he nodded mostly to himself, "Joseph has them." "You believe then?" "They're from God. Of course I believe him." John believed Joseph, not her. She was used to people's scepticism, but she had a way to prove it this time. "There's more, John." Something flashed across his face at her saying his name outloud for the very first time, but the mask was back in place too quickly for her to figure out what. Focus. Her mother was good at selling any con, always knew how to approach a person, what they'd want to hear, which buttons to push.

"Say his name. Look him in the eyes and sell the idea, make him think it's his own, darling. There's always an offer a man won't be able to refuse, one he'd throw himself in the deep end for, willingly. And when he's about to sink, you offer a hand, pledge your loyalty. He'd be a goner before you know it."

A part of Candice lived in Sabrina, and for once she let it take over.

"I will tell you what's coming, but I will need something in return.", her voice sounded unshakeable, certain, the exact opposite of how she felt inside. John didn't break her eye contact, nor interrupted her. Sabrina got up from the chair, discarding the ropes as her hands dropped to her sides. "You've been untied this whole time, Deputy?", his eyes shone with amusement again. She took a few steps until she stood almost in front of him, her hand holding out her knife. Surrendering her weapon. "And you had a knife?" When he made no move to take it, Sabrina placed the blade on his "work" bench and walked back, sitting down in the chair and rubbing her wrists. "I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

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ronearoundblindly · 10 months

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Evil chuckles *rubs palms together*

Sorry I can't help it!

Imagine his coworker, Bailiff Bucket Barnes, notices that Steve seems to (unintentionally) put a little more detail into his courtroom sketches when reader is in them.

Ohhhhh let the teasing commence 😏

- 👜

court sketch artist!Steve Rogers x lawyer!reader drabble

[super short, just trying to get back into the swing of things. No warnings.]

Steve uses his middle finger to smudge the line of your leg just as the judge adjourns the court for jury deliberations.

It's not quite perfect, so he focuses on fixing the exact angle of your bare calf in those delicate heels.

"Punk," his friend rumbles from the doorway, securing the emptied room, "kinda missed your cue to leave..."

Whoops. Steve hadn't even sketched the judge behind the bench yet.

"Right. Sorry, Buck. I'll get out of your hair."

"Don't bother," Bucky says, stopping Steve's hand as it rushes to replace the charcoal in its tin. "Not expected to take long for a verdict."

The bailiff adjusts his uniform tie and takes a seat next to Steve.

"Ohhh," he coos with a craned neck, "I see why you lingered. 'Bout time you asked her out, ya think? You've been pining over her for six months."

"Have not, jerk," Steve practically squeaks.

Bucky puts up his hands in defeat. "You're right. You're right. It was this time last year that she started with the DA's office."

"I'm not...pining," Steve muses, running a nail through some black buildup on his thumb. "She's just photogenic."

"Then take a picture. With your phone. And then put us out of our misery and use that phone to get her number."

"Us?"

"The poor stenographer lost her bet in the fall. She was so sure you'd make a move after the Kinsey case."

Steve shrugs shyly. "Nah, that was such a big win for her. I bet the office took her out right after--had a party maybe."

"So? There are seven nights a week, big guy. Court is closed two of those days, too."

"Buck, I'm not gonna--"

"Bud, I'm gonna die of old age waiting for you to get your ass off this pew. Shit, my hair will be down to here--" Bucky gestures to below his shoulders "--by the time you--"

"Language," Steve warns.

Bucky relents and settles on a judging look.

After a long pause, he shrugs.

"Fine. Maybe I'll ask her out. She's got great legs."

Steve's head whips up so fast that his blond hair falls across wide eyes. "You wouldn't dare," he bites back.

Another shrug is his only answer.

A door at the back of the court creaks open.

"Barnes, call them back in."

"Damn," Bucky cards his fingers through his dark locks and whistles, "my girl's fast."

Heat flares across Steve's disbelieving frown.

Bailiff Barnes stands up with a chuckle.

"See, when you recreate that look at home, the color you're gonna wanna pick is Fuschia."

No sooner has Bucky opened the double doors than you flit past him and down the aisle.

"Barnes," you nod politely before your eyes meet Steve's.

Your head cocks to the side in surprise. "Mister Rogers."

It's a split-second in time, but Steve loses all ability to form words. He had no idea you knew his name. The smile you flash over your shoulder after setting your briefcase down, too, isn't just a polite smile or a confident 'I've won this case' smile. No. That smile is just for him.

Steve gulps, letting that gleaming gesture sear into his brain so he can sketch it later.

He plucks out his charcoal again.

At least he has this chance to draw the judge behind the bench...and put all the others he forgot on the page, too.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh boy. Yet another mini-series taking up real estate in my mind... Hopefully, none of you guys are taking bets about how long all these things are taking me!! Luckily, this one is pretty straight-forward fluff--which is, of course, how Threadbare started and that ended up ::checks notes:: at 20,000 words... Whoops, indeed...

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #law and rogers #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers and bucky barnes #ro answers #👜 anon

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catierambles · 6 months

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Feral Instincts Ch.31

Pairing: The Rogue’s Gallery (Geralt, Syverson, Mike, August Walker, Walter Marshall) x Stephanie Daniels (OFC)

WC 1415

Warnings: Mentions of injury/torture

There were dark circles under her eyes when they walked into the hospital the next day, Stephanie wearing one of Walter’s jumpers that swamped her. August had pulled at her wolf, helping her heal, her injuries now more an annoyance than an actual concern.

She burst into tears when she saw Mike, running over to him, holding him tightly as his fingers wove through her hair, his lips moving over hers as he kissed her deeply. Albert was still unconscious, but scans showed healthy brain activity and he was breathing on his own. Spreading out next to him on the narrow hospital bed, she laid her hand over his heart, reaching out with her wolf and finding his. It was scared, curled in on itself, licking its wounds, but she felt as it felt hers and she gently coaxed it out of hiding, keeping it just below the surface. He breathed in deep, his heart rate spiking, and his eyes opened. They immediately settled on her and he began to sob, the smell of his fear sharp in her nose.

“He kept trying to get me to call you. To ask you to come back.” He said, “He would hit me, or cut me, when I refused. He ordered me over and over again, hurt me over and over again when I told him no.”

“It’s okay, sweety. I’m so proud of you. My strong Omega.” She said, pressing her forehead against his. “He’s not going to hurt you again. He’s not going to hurt anyone ever again.”

“Is he dead?” She just nodded and that made him sob harder, but out of relief.

Later, she stared at the Council rep from across the table at one of their local offices. They had called her in, ordered her, really. Sy and August wanted her to tell them to piss off, but she wanted to get it over and done with. They were standing behind her, arms folded over their chests, a male Alpha wall of protection. Even Napoleon was there, off to the side, having met them outside the building.

“We wanted him alive, Ms. Daniels.”

“Fuck you.” She said simply and he blinked at her in surprise. “He deserved to die.”

“A bit hypocritical, don’t you think? Based on your opinion of the Cleaners?”

“If Albert had died, if Mike had died,” Walter started, “And Jordan had been taken into police custody. He would have been charged with two counts of first degree murder while in the process of a felony, namely grievous bodily injury with the ultimate goal of kidnapping Stephanie. With the aggravating factors, i.e. his history of abuse, he would have been eligible for the death penalty. All the Prosecutor would have had to do was show pictures of the victims, how they were found, as well as Stephanie’s previous wounds and there wouldn’t have been a jury in this world who wouldn’t have decided to put a needle in his arm. The fact that Albert is a child, legally, would have only strengthened it. So don’t you dare call her a hypocrite.” Napoleon’s phone went off in his pocket and he answered it, still staring at the Council rep.

“Solo.” He listened for a bit. “Thank you.” He hung up, sliding his phone back into his inner breast pocket. “I had them run the Feral’s DNA through ViCAP in coordination with federal law enforcement.”

“Why would you do that?” Sy asked.

“Call it a gut feeling.” He said, shrugging, “It popped on about a half dozen unsolved murders across the country, his DNA found under the female victim’s fingernails. There were about a dozen more with a similar MO but no DNA. Guy liked knives and playing with his victims. Only one survivor.”

“Let me guess.” Stephanie said, “A wolf.”

“Good guess.” Napoleon said.

“She survived the attack, but in the process of her fighting him off, he got infected.” Stephanie said and he made an acknowledging sound with a nod. “Makes sense why he was able to hide his Feral status so well. He was used to wearing masks.”

“And he was batshit before becoming a wolf,” Sy said, “Not because of it.”

“In my professional opinion,” Walter said, “He probably targeted Stephanie as his next victim, but he felt what we all did and his wolf claimed her as a Mate, although she wasn’t a wolf yet. Deluded, but par for the course with Ferals. So instead of killing her, he dated her, but he couldn’t hide all the time, so he wasn’t exactly boyfriend of the year. She tried to leave him, so he infected her, probably thinking she’d be exactly like him and they’d be a bloodier Bonnie and Clyde. Cutting a swathe through the country until they were finally hunted and put down by a Tracker, possibly even by Geralt.”

“But he couldn’t control her.” Geralt said, “She ran away after he infected her, found Sy, and asked him for help.”

“And here we are.” Sy said, “Eighteen dead women, that we know of, and one attempted. Death penalty, Walt?”

“Many, many, times over. There would have been a fight over who got to do it.”

“I wonder,” Stephanie said, “How many victims there were after the DNA started coming back as wolf. Seeing as the Council likes to maintain their squeaky clean image. Wouldn’t shock me if they “took over” the investigations and swept it under the rug. No serial killer wolves here, no Sir. He didn’t stay in one spot, have one hunting ground, so you can't send a Tracker if you don’t know where to send the Tracker to.”

“Never heard anything about it.” Geralt said, shaking his head.

“Leon, what’s the technical term for it if it were to get out that the Pack Council was concealing the existence of a serial killer that turned furry? Not just from the public, but from the organizations that could have stopped him?” She asked.

“A shit storm, Stephanie, it’s called a shit storm.” He said.

“You wouldn’t.” The rep said.

“Fuckin’ try me.” She said, “Shit has to change. We’re not hiding anymore, we can’t act like we still are. I wonder how many women would still be alive if the Pack Council had worked with the Feds in tracking him down?”

“I’m putting Stephanie’s name forward as a candidate for Councilor.” Napoleon said, “There are a few wolves that are…past their prime that should have stepped down years ago. They have the majority vote. Replacing even one of them would swing the vote in favor of reform and cooperation. No more Cleaners, no more cover-ups.”

“What happened to me being naive?”

“I would call you more of an idealist.” Napoleon said and she snorted.

“Why would they step down?” Sy asked, “Old dudes in power like to stay in power.”

“I would very politely, and respectfully, let them know that stepping down is in their best interest.” Leon said.

“You’d blackmail a Councilor?” The rep asked.

“Absolutely not. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Leon said, “I would simply say that stepping down in the interest of reform is what’s best for everyone. Times are changing, and we need to change with them. If they stepped down in order to further advance relationships and partnerships with the human government and governmental entities, it would look best for them. Putting the interests of all wolves ahead of their own. What would be your first order, Steph? Hypothetically speaking.”

“Repurpose the Cleaners as Trackers.” She said, “After extensive psychological evaluations. Starting with this one.” She jutted her thumb over her shoulder at August and he scowled at her. “I’m joking. About you, anyway.”

“After that?” Leon asked.

“Meet with the heads of the Alphabet Mafia, lay everything out on the table. Full disclosure. Trust is a two-way street.”

“I like it.” Leon said, “Show them our hand and encourage them to show theirs in the spirit of cooperation. Anything else?”

“Ask me again when that’s done.” She said and he nodded.

“Also, if any of the Council tries to block her,” August said, “Or do some shady bullshit to take her out of the picture, we’re returning whoever is involved back in pieces.” His head tilted to the side slightly, “Starting with you.” The representative paled and Stephanie rolled her eyes.

“August, he’s just a lackey.” She said, “Don’t be a dick.”

“Just looking out for you, Princess.”

“Testosterone disaster.” She mumbled and Walter snorted.

#henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #august walker #hellraiser mike #geralt of rivia #feral instincts

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24hlevi · 2 months

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Excuse me but can i request a Shishiba from Sakomoto Days with prompt 15 oneshot fic for the event?

Can you make the fem!so a civilian with a big family? Like Shishiba meeting with the father, mother, siblings, grandparents, cousin, aunts, and uncles at the christmas party?

Thank you. I try to not make it long.

thank you for requesting 🫶

— 25 Days Of Winter: Meeting The Family During Christmas

shishiba (sakamoto days) x fem!reader

warnings: none!

25 days of winter event

"are you sure this is a good idea?" shishiba asked you.

you were fixing his tie as he peered down at you helping him prepare for the christmas party that you insisted he attend with you.

"yes, you'll be fine. trust me," you replied with a nod, straightening out the tie and patting his chest. "they will love you."

he didn't say anything in response, still looking down at you as he nodded. "okay," he sighed. "let's do this then."

with a small smile sent towards shishiba, you grabbed his hand and walked out of the room, pulling him along with you to meet your big family. you could tell he was nervous because it was the first meeting, and he didn't want to get the wrong impression, especially during the christmas party with all your extended relatives. he was already feeling nervous the second you told him your family was coming over in the next few hours, but now that he was actually meeting them he felt like he wanted to throw up.

he forced the smallest smile he could make on his face as you walked him over to your parents, who were the ones he was most worried about. you had specifically told him to act as though he had an office job of sorts, since he couldn't say what he really did for a living out of worry how anyone would react to it. so that's what he was going to attempt, but thankfully, you did most of the talking.

"dad! mom! this is shishiba, my boyfriend," your arm was linked with shishiba's as you stood in front of your parents.

"it's a pleasure to meet you both," shishiba bowed to your parents.

"it's so nice to finally meet you! y/n has told us lots about you!" your mother smiled dearly at him.

"has she?" he glanced over at you with an eyebrow slightly raised.

"indeed!" your father replied. "it's great to finally meet you, shishiba."

"woah! y/n actually has a boyfriend?" your younger brother suddenly appeared next to you, looking between you and shishiba.

"this is my brother," you sighed as you gestured to your brother.

"nice to meet you," shishiba bowed again.

your brother eyed shishiba for a moment before speaking again. "you do any harm to her and i'll beat you up, got it?"

"yes," shishiba nodded immediately after.

"sorry about him," you gently shoved your brother out of the way.

"it's alright," shishiba said, shaking his head. "you have a lot of family."

"i know," you nodded. "but you only have a few more to meet, come on!" you grabbed his hand and pulled him over to some of your other relatives.

shishiba awkwardly stood next to you as you introduced him to all of your family members, his hand holding onto yours in a tight grip as he tried to remain calm. he didn't expect it to be like this, but then again, he never did a party like this for christmas before. hell, he never went to parties in general, definitely not family gatherings. he only spoke when he was spoken to or you nudged him to say something and he would quickly come up with a response.

he eventually left for a split second to get you and him a drink from the kitchen while you talked with your cousins and he let out a quiet sigh while leaning against the counter. he obviously wasn't one to communicate a whole lot, and he was trying his best to be respectful with your family, but he didn't know what to do. he felt like he was meeting a jury who would give him a life sentence if he didn't answer their questions right.

"shiba?" you peered your head through the doorway to see him leaning against the counter. "are you okay?"

he glanced up when he heard your voice and nodded, standing up straight again. "yeah, i'm fine," he answered, avoiding your gaze with his eyes.

"are you sure?" you questioned, walking up to him and grabbing ahold of his hands.

he was silent for a minute, debating whether or not to say the truth before sighing. "i guess i just...wasn't expecting this. i mean, i've never gone to these kind of family gatherings before and, i suppose i'm panicking a little bit. you have a lot of family, and i feel like if i say the wrong thing they'll ban me from you or something." he confessed quietly.

you were stunned that he actually expressed how he was feeling, and you placed a hand on his chest. "shiba, i understand but please don't panic over my family. we only gather like this for christmas, otherwise it's just my immediate family. i know they can be a lot to handle at once during the first meeting but you aren't going to be banned from me if you say something wrong. unless you say you're an assassin, then that'd be a big problem."

shishiba let out a short chuckle and nodded. "i guess that's true, i could say a lot worse."

"yes, so let's not do that, okay? just a couple more hours and we can go home," you smiled up at him.

"okay," he nodded. "i think i can handle a few more hours."

"good, cause you still have to meet my aunt and uncle," you say and start pulling him out of the kitchen.

#25 days of winter event #sakamoto days #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days shishiba #shishiba #shishiba x reader #sakamoto days imagine #sakamoto days scenarios #shishiba scenarios #shishiba imagine

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fivekrystalpetals · 1 year

Text

Glen, Children of Misfortune, Juries and the Baskervilles

[When I say Glen, I am referring all Glens- past and present: Levi, Oswald, Gil and Leo. Hella lot of lore is here that I wanna write about ;-; so I might divide this into different posts let's see. Also fair warning: I might criticize Oswald's actions-past and present- a bit, since I love looking at characters from an unbiased pov. Also, maybe some characters' past actions in order to point to their character development so that too.]

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

4] Oswald and Lacie

Truth be told, Oswald has always been “passive”. He doesn’t know what he really wants. He had already been training to become the next Glen (ref: Part 1) and it was drilled into his mind that he was to cast Lacie into the Abyss right from the beginning. He doesn’t question this rule.

Not even when Lacie hints that the purpose of the existence of a Child of Ill-Omen might not be what it is said to be (Retrace 101):

And his answer to this theory of hers is:

You are not crazy. If that’s the answer you came to, it is doubtlessly the truth for you.

That’s… that’s not the right response to it!!!

“The truth for you,” he says, basically responding: “Oh if what you say makes you happy, then so be it. But the truth is different.” (No! It is not!)

Why won’t he grasp at straws to save her if he loved her and cared about her? Why won’t he even try to research the possible truth of her words? Why won’t he at least make an attempt to stop the needless execution of his dear sister? Lacie has grown up beside him; what great ‘threat’ did she cause to the condition of the Abyss in all those years she was alive? But he doesn’t dare question any of it; he simply, quietly, “passively” goes ahead with what was asked of him.

[Whereas, in Retrace 91/92, it’s proven Lacie had been right all along. Nothing like Child of “Ill-Omen” exists and all of those lies had been set down as “rules” for the Juries’ selfish purposes.]

Again, I’d also, well not exactly excuse him, but, as Oz and Break say, there is always the chance that he couldn’t have known the truth about the Child of Ill-Omen. Not until after Lacie had died and perhaps, during his short stint as Glen, he must have come to realize that the Jury had more to do with this affair than met the eye, the reason why he brought along Vincent to the final Gate in the last Arc.

Okay, but this aside, his response to her every word is always so... resigned?

See, Retrace 72:

Why does Lacie have to be the one to do this? She is the sinner here, your prisoner due to be executed in five days; why would you ask something like this of her? If Oswald truly wanted Lacie to survive, he should have been the one to tell Jack everything and ask him to take her away with him if he can't protect her anymore. But he keeps quiet.

(He does regret this, in Retrace 101.)

I chose being the head of Baskervilles over being Lacie's older brother. And yet I did not drive Jack away, even after I realized how twisted he had become.

He is ruthless in some places, soft in some. Like if he was ruthless to Lacie, he'd have been the same to Jack as well. The reason he was not, because that was the only way he could be soft on himself and lessen his own guilt.

Continuing from there, (Retrace 73), Lacie is the one to apologize for being "too harsh on him" and then goes on to tell how she has never regretted being born with red eyes or living in this world. "I love this world," she says.

Okay, this is a panel of so many contradictions, you know. Oswald says Lacie is strong, but she disagrees and says she is "ten times more cynical than other people."

Both of them are wrong.

Lacie was neither strong nor cynical. She was scared. Yes, scared. Terrified. Lacie was terrified of dying, of being cast into the Abyss, so terrified that she woke herself up from nightmares of their first day at the Baskerville estate, of learning her fate from the Jury and Glen...

....just mere days before her execution: (Retrace 67/68)

I am going off a tangent to do a quick character analysis of Lacie (I will do a longer one later, but just this one aspect of her characterization) that both Oswald and Jack had the wrong impression of Lacie. Oswald assumed her to be so strong that she could shoulder the burden of loneliness and death all by herself. He assumed she didn't want to live any longer, that she had already seen so much and experienced all that the world has to offer that she no longer had any more worldly desires. In short, he saw her as some sort of motherly saint.

As for Jack, she is his Dream Girl to put it simply. At the most depressing and most vulnerable point of his life, when he chanced to meet such a vibrant girl like Lacie, he latched onto her for his life, absorbed every word she uttered, learnt the song she sang once on a whim and sang nothing but that for the next eight years. The casual advice she gave him as a turbulent, rebellious and frivolous teenager... okay, but, let's be real here. Lacie was simply spouting whatever came to her mouth atm in the name of 'advice'. She was passing time till her brother apologized to her and she'd be brought back home. She most probably didn't think Jack, being one of a kind, would accept her words so literally that he obeys them verbatim, even if he was disgusted by what he was forcing himself to do. He put her on a sky high pedestal that he was scared to even touch her lest she loses her "magic" in his mind. That's also the reason why he never questions her lie (her lie about the Succession Ceremony) because he was scared whatever image he had of her might shatter if he pressed on. (Yeah, I gotta write a longer post about Jack's and Lacie's relationship, bc it's one of the most fucked-up yet tragic, most hollow yet sincere relationships if ever there was one)

I guess, of all people, as sad as it is, only Levi got to see her at her most vulnerable? (Retrace 68):

Neither Oswald nor Jack have seen her like this—a scared girl, full of loneliness and regrets of not being able to live longer. And yet, when Levi casually mentions about her death in another five days, she grins as if she's looking forward to it. Which, in reality, is just a mask to cover her terror.

Why I am saying this is—as context for Oswald's line "I shall be lonely if you disappear" and her midnight walk later to the tree where the three of them used to hang out. Lacie says big things like I love this world, I love the Abyss, even when Levi asked her to assist his 'experiment', her only query was if the Abyss won't be lonely anymore,,, but she doesn't let her own loneliness or regrets to surface. She bottles up all of it. Why? Because she has to be strong for Oswald and pretend like she is taking all of this in stride to lessen his guilt.

Whereas Oswald does not ask her if she is alright. If she is lonely. If she is scared of being cast into the Abyss. If she wants to run away.

(In fact, if you see the hug, it's Lacie who is hugging Oswald in a comforting, motherly hug as if he's in greater need of comfort than her, because, of course, she must be completely, totally at terms with her Fate, right?)

In that regard, I am sure Jack would definitely have inquired after her if only he didn't place her on an otherworldly pedestal and realized things might go wrong with his Dream Girl too. Moreover and most importantly, Jack was kept in dark about most things connected to the Baskervilles and he had also promised not to dig too much if he was only allowed to meet Lacie. So I won't blame him for not pressing when she lied. He must have assumed it's Something Baskerville Ritual, not that it'd be something that'd directly affect his Lacie.

But Oswald is her big brother. Oswald knows everything about the Baskervilles. He is going to become the next Glen. Yet... he does nothing, asks nothing. Almost like Oswald had long given her up for dead. Like he can't do anything for her anymore whereas she is still alive and chatting right there with him.

He is always thinking of the days after she'd be gone, and never ever gives any thought to their present.

Remember Rufus Barma's words from Retrace 86 and I must agree:

You speak as if you've already given up.

Exactly. As I said in Part 1 of this long essay, Oswald was the full-fledged Glen when he cast Lacie into the Abyss. With the title of Glen, even if he simply brushes aside the rules and sets new ones for his reign, who could possibly question him? He had five black-winged chains of the Abyss in his possession. The Juries might protest,, but if Lacie is there, they can't do anything. They are scared of the Child of Misfortune.

Even Leo points this out correctly:

He is always waiting for someone with a stronger will to come help him out of problems he needs to solve on his own.

In his penultimate appearance, he finally, finally, takes a decision and drops his sword. He decides to not kill his sister a second time. And, immediately, people who have always cared for him (if only he ever gave them a chance) gather around him to assure him that he had done well, done enough.

Well, tl;dr, what I am trying to say is that Oswald should have stuck firmly to his decision whatever it was. If he had cast Lacie into the Abyss, then he should have dealt with the consequences appropriately. If he had stopped her execution, then he should have been strong enough to face off the Juries. Whatever his decision, he should have been thorough with it instead of being half-hearted, passive and resigned about everything.

Ending this loooong essay (;_;) on a funny yet interesting note (this omake from Vol. 19) which presents the kind of Oswald I actually wanted to see. The premise might be absurd but he, for once, drops his air of resignation and faces off the Glen himself for his sister, going to the extent of dropping formality and addressing him by his name lol

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Text

Running from the Flames {19}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x OFC Warnings: 18+ only, fluff, slight angst - this is a work of fiction and the events are not based on reality. Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven* || Twelve || Thirteen || Fourteen || Fifteen || Sixteen || Seventeen || Eighteen || Nineteen || Twenty || under construction

Mum called Tuesday with an update. Pierre and I were curled up on the couch watching a rerun of The Grand Tour while Addie was lying across us having an afternoon nap, his hand softly stroking her hair while she slept. We all needed a rest after the busy morning spent showing Pierre our favourite parts of London and I regretted not taking my car when we went along High Street and bought more than we could really carry, but parking in the city was a bitch.

Pierre paused the show when he saw me accept the video call and I introduced the two of them before greeting dad who was sitting to the side of the screen drinking a beer with his lunch. Pierre did a double take seeing dad in track pants and a singlet after only seeing him in pressed suits for work.

“I’m guessing this isn’t a social call,” I commented as mum moved to her home office and put her reading glasses on.

“Unfortunately not. We need to talk about what our options are to deal with this.” She dropped the dossier of documents I had scanned through to her onto her desk with a loud thud. “The fastest option would be to offer a settlement out of court and pay Gordon for the damages, namely a broken nose and bruised ego.”

“Why should I give him a single penny? He came and harassed me!”

She sighed and rubbed at her temples just like I did when Addie was stressing me out. “We could countersue and file our own charges for breaching the restraining order. That would likely bankrupt him again because he can’t afford to drag out a case against us.”

“If he goes bankrupt again he will just have another axe to grind with me. I want him out of my life, not a reason to come at me again.”

“You’ve gotta work with me here, querida. Nothing is going to be a perfect solution,” she said as she sat back in her chair chewing the end of her pen.

“Could we go to court and see what a judge thinks of the case?”

“It would likely be a jury, not a judge, but I wouldn’t advise it. Have you read this?” she asked as she waved the papers around.

I looked down sheepishly and admitted, “Not all of it.”

Mum knew that actually meant I hadn’t read any of it. “The stipulations of this would mean your passports are surrendered until the verdict is ruled, which would take considerably longer than the other options.”

I looked at Pierre as I digested the news. “So I would be stuck here?”

“You would be grounded, yes.”

I swallowed deeply at the thought and shook my head. I wasn’t willing to waste the time I had left with Pierre before I started work. I could already feel the date looming over me like a guillotine. “Offer a settlement. I don’t care what it takes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Maybe we should talk about this,” Pierre stopped me from answering with a hand on my thigh.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m coming with you to Canada next week, end of story.” I placed my hand on his and squeezed it before I looked back at mum with a nod. “Do it.”

“Okay, honey, I’ll give you an update when I have one. Drive safe tomorrow and give Adelaide a kiss from me.”

“Gracias, mamá. Hasta mañana.” I ended the video call and leaned back into Pierre’s shoulder with a sigh and expected to see him looking at me but he was staring intently at the tv though it was still on pause. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

He dragged his eyes away from the frozen Jeremy Clarkson and chewed on his bottom lip. “Are you sure you want to go with a settlement? Shouldn’t you think about it a little longer?”

“I’m not going to just stay stuck here while you’re halfway across the world.” Doubt started to creep in and I carefully shifted Addie so I could turn to face him. “I know a lot has happened in a short time and you said it was fine but if this is too much, just let me know. I’ll understand if…”

Pierre reached for my face and cupped my jaw as his lips pressed together. “I’m not going to leave you, Bri, so please stop suggesting it. I’m already having a hard time thinking about what happens after Belgium.”

I carefully shifted back into his arms but the stirring was still enough to wake Addie and she sat up, rubbing her bleary eyes as she murmured, “We go park now?”

“Mummy has to go see someone soon and Pierre is going to stay and play with you.”

“I’m happy to take her, if that’s alright with you?” he asked in French so she didn’t understand and get too excited in case I said no.

“If you’re up for it, there’s spare keys on the hook in the kitchen.” I checked my watch and saw I needed to leave soon to make it to Dr Pascoe’s office in time. I pulled Addie into my arms and hugged her tight as I told her the rules again. “Be the good girl I know you are and no running away. Listen to Pierre and do as he tells you, he wants to keep you safe. I love you.”

“Love you,” she said, planting a big wet kiss on my cheek before laughing and running to the shoe rack. “Let’s gooooo!”

“She was asleep 10 seconds ago,” Pierre said as he looked to his empty lap in dismay.

“She goes zero to 60 in 3.5.”

Pierre got up and offered a hand, pulling me to my feet and into his arms. Every time we kissed I was amazed to find I was still on solid ground because I always got a little light headed and I expected to open my eyes and find myself in the clouds.

“Je t’aime.”

Kissing him left me dizzy but hearing those words made me swoon and I pressed my body closer, my hands sneaking beneath his hoodie so I could feel his muscles move beneath his smooth skin. I lost track of time as I stared into those mesmerising eyes of his and echoed, “I love you.”

–

I dropped Pierre and Addie off at the playground on my way to Dr Pascoe’s and my eyes kept lingering on them in the rearview as I left. There was always a big grin on Addie’s face when she was with Pierre and he was no different as they walked off holding hands.

The image was still on my mind while I sat opposite Sarah and updated her on my latest epiphany.

“Do you think I’m moving too fast?” I asked, even though I knew the next words that were going to come out of her mouth.

“Do you?”

“If I were an uninvolved third party, just spectating, I would say yes. But, I’m not and I don’t think so? I don’t even know if that makes sense. I think his profession doesn’t help because it's so dangerous, I mean last weekend he had a hell of a crash and I keep thinking if I hadn’t told him how I felt and he had been seriously injured, or worse, then I would have felt absolutely sick to my stomach.”

“Good, you are proactively thinking these things while making your choices, that is good.” She scribbled some notes down before flicking back a few pages and tapping what was written there. “And has anything happened since the incident with Trent Gordon?”

I groaned and shifted in the leather chair, my arms folding over my chest and she wrote down something new in her notepad.

“I take that as a yes. Would you like to talk about it?”

It didn’t take much to start me off on that saga and bring her up to speed with the settlement and how Pierre reacted.

“Part of me thinks he doesn’t want me to go with him. Maybe this is too much baggage, it’s unfair of me to expect so much from him,” I said with a resigned sigh as I vocalised the worry that had been whispered in my head.

“Have you asked him?”

“Of course. He says he wants Addie and I with him wherever he goes.”

“Then you should trust his decision.”

“What if he’s just too nice to say anything? He seemed opposed to me making the settlement.”

“That is something you will have to discuss with him but perhaps he is worried you will resent him later on because he knows don’t want to give Mr Gordon the money. Is that something you think you may come to regret?”

“I don’t want to give Trent a single cent but this is just a simple transaction and that is how I am going to treat it. I know how fortunate I am that I am in a position to be able to value time over money because of my family. I want to spend my time with Pierre. So, if it takes giving that assho- sorry, that man some money to make that time possible then I will spend it without regret.”

“I think you should explain to him exactly what you said to me, it might just be what he needs to hear.” She looked up at the clock and closed her book as the hour ended. “We’ll have to work out the time differences but I think a quick catch up while you are away could be a good idea. And if you have any more nightmares or panic attacks, call the emergency number because I want to find out a little more about what’s triggering these again.”

I called Pierre as soon as I was out of the building and he said they were still at the playground. Addie had made a friend, unsurprisingly, and she didn’t want to leave. Pierre didn’t seem too concerned about spending so long in the park since he wasn’t as easily recognised by parents that were busy chasing their own kids around.

“Boo,” I whispered as I rose on my tiptoes and kissed his ear after sneaking up on him. He didn’t even flinch, merely chuckled as he pulled me around him and into his arms so my back was flush to his chest. “How did you know I was there? I dodged every twig and leaf.”

He pointed to the ground in front of us as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Sorry, beautiful ninja, your shadow gave you away.”

“I’ll sneak something by you one day.” I waved at Addie when she spotted me and she waved back before climbing up the playground with the other little girl her age. “Is that her friend? What happened to her hair?”

Pierre chuckled nervously. “Her hair tie came out and it was getting in her face. I kind of tried to tie it back.”

I struggled to hold back the laughter and failed when Addie jumped down the ledge, the loose band falling away and releasing all her dark curls in a cascade. “Not a bad first attempt,” I said through the giggles, “but we’ll work on that.”

“It lasted a whole 5 minutes, just saying. I think that deserves a reward.”

I turned in his arms and peeked up at him from under my lashes as I licked my lips. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“A few things,” he smirked before whispering in my ear, “all dirty things.”

Click here to for chapter twenty.

Tagging: @my-only-way-tocooperatewithlife

#pierre gasly x poc!oc #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x oc #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #running from the flames

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xerith-42 · 26 days

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Redesign the Nine Part 2

That's right babey, we're doing a part 2! Because I went outside and sat in the sun but the brain rot still consumed as it does and I had premonitions about more of the Jury members. Before we discussed ones who were completely new, reworking characters from MyStreet into MCD. This time I want to take a closer look at three Jury members who we know were part of the Jury, but lacked on screen appearances, or depth portrayed in the appearances they got.

These are members who's stories are far more shrouded in mystery. Even the elements of it I know feel... incomplete. Because characters like lying to me and refusing to let me tell their damn story.

Let's get into it.

Lilian The Silver Tongue

That's right, she isn't going to be another scythe user, that's boring as hell. Let Ivy slay with that. Instead Lilian is a rather enigmatic member of the Jury because... She didn't go through the same process. Janus, Zachary, and Ivan were all members when Zane inherited the Jury, and everyone else went through the process via the Guard Academy. But Lilian...

Lilian was found by Zane. It was a routine trip to Nahkra, just checking in on the village so close to O'Khasis' borders. A simple trip, so he only took Janus with him. While the two were in the market place, Lilian called out to Zane from her barely functional stall. What mattered was that she had a deck of tarot cards on the table, and a peculiar look about her. [proceeds to pull out my tarot cards and do a divination or two]

She didn't know anything about Zane. Lilian wasn't from Ru'aun, she was a runaway from Gal'ruk. She didn't know about Zane, or O'Khasis, just that she saw a nobleman and his guard and had a distinct feeling about them. The reading she got of him was even more fascinating that her gut feeling. She didn't even know his name and he didn't know hers but she knew there was a great mystery in front of her.

The Seven of Cups, the Five of Cups, and the Reverse Nine of Swords. Over ambition, sorrow of a loss, and the potential for time to heal.

Zane was never superstitious, but he believed in the Divine. In other realms. In the supernatural. Who's to say a deck of cards couldn't be used to predict the future, or read the inner parts of a person? These cards were accurate enough to give him pause at the explanation. Enough to make him stop and listen to the odd hooded woman who was suddenly speaking words the public had yet to hear of. They didn't know Zane's brother was dead yet, or that he had inherited O'Khasis. But her cards knew his loss.

It made Zane pay to get a better reading from her. A deeper look into him, this time with six cards that he pulled himself at her instruction. She didn't know the question Zane asked the cards, but when she read out the result, it was chilling. The question was simple; "Will my father's health get better?" The answer?

Past: The Chariot, Reversed Queen of Cups. A successful, balanced, triumphant man comfortable in his life, and a beautiful but perverse woman, not to be trusted.

Future: Reversed Fool, Knight of Wands. A hasty and impetuous man will offer a key choice, and The Seeker, be that Zane or the subject of his question, will make a foolish and disastrous choice in response to this offer. Tread with caution.

Present Attitudes: Justice, Two of Swords. A well balanced mind, body, and heart will be key to future successes. If one can keep their mind open, emotions calm, and thinking balanced, then great fortune awaits.

Lilian never gave Zane her own analysis of it, just the meanings of the cards. She left it all up to his imagination. And this was before Zane wore a mask. Even if she didn't know what he was thinking, she could see the gears turning in his head. She could see his reactions. She was piecing together who he was through these cards. He left after her reading, in an unsure position.

It was days later, when Lilian was preparing to leave and travel to another city that Zane found her again. He asked her for another reading. A simple yes or no question he wanted answered. And due to her fascination, she didn't even ask for payment. She gladly did it for him. This is a reading he didn't even let Janus witness, asking that his back be turned, and that Lilian not give him any explanation. Let the cards speak for themselves.

The answer Zane got was unsure. But he acted upon it anyway. He asked, and the cards answered. Lilian was to be the newest member of the Jury of Nine.

"What in the name of the Divine makes you think I want that?"

Lilian's retort was the final nail in the coffin. She came from nothing, she was nothing, and came to Ru'aun for nothing. Zane could offer her a proper life, an identity, a purpose. She used those cards to learn about others so she could imitate being human, and her lack of knowledge was an advantage she was keenly aware of. One Zane wanted to understand how to utilize himself. He and Lilian went back and forth for a while, but in the end he convinced her. In the end, Lilian was the first member of the Jury Zane ever assigned, and he didn't even recruit her properly.

And she instantly joined the rank of his most trusted ally at the time.

Janus the Silver Death

Janus was a member of the Jury when Garte held control, yet before that he was always assigned to help Zane. When Janus joined the Jury, he was the youngest member, the first to be freshly out of the guard academy and into the Jury. Garte preferred to bring in already hardened veterans, but he saw a ferocity in the way Janus fought, and a willingness to kill when told to do it. He was loyal and fierce. But he was young, spunky, and in need of discipline.

As was Garte's at the time youngest son, a teenage Zane. So despite attaining the best position a guard in Ru'aun can attain, Janus was given the job of babysitting body guarding the youngest Ro'meave. Awesome. He was so happy about this and it did not piss him off at all. But in spite of a... let's say less than great first impression, Janus still took the job with stride, and put his all into ensuring that Zane would be trained properly in combat.

It uhhh, didn't go that way. Instead Zane was a nerd who learned about magic and relics n shit, and Janus couldn't really stop him, but he still wanted to do his job. He still wanted to help Garte in that goal of making Zane into a potential successor for him. Janus never verbalized any confusion as to why Garroth wouldn't be more fitting of this training. In achieving this goal, Janus just encouraged Zane's interest in well, whatever nerd shit Zane was interested in. He doesn't understand any of it but Zane's clearly passionate and makes a solid case for why this is useful knowledge to have.

And when Zane becomes High Priest while Garroth is off at the Guard Academy, he selects Janus to be his top advisor. Zane hasn't even inherited the Jury yet, but he and Janus have just been doing shit together for long enough now that it just makes sense. When Zane does inherit the Jury, when Garroth fakes his death and Zane is officially named successor, Janus becomes his most trusted ally. But why does Zane trust Janus so much?

Because he doesn't ask questions. Janus was taught to be devoted to a fault, to not question his superior, and to take what he is given. When Zane asks him to go pick up the order from the butcher, he does it. When Zane asks him to help him run scenarios of taking over villages through subterfuge, he does it. When Zane asks him to slaughter an entire village while holding a probably cursed amulet so it can absorb their remaining life force or power, he does it. Unlike Zachary or Ivan, Janus wasn't loyal to Garte for very long. He is loyal to Zane.

That's why he and Lilian share the title Silver. It's a sign of loyalty to Zane, as it's his favorite color. The two members of the Jury that Zane trusts to know him on any personal level are given this title in common, even before he fully trusts either of them. He makes it mean that. I firmly believe that Zane saw almost every other member of the Jury as a pawn, or outright disposable. But Janus and Lilian? Those aren't just Jury members. Those are Zane's friends. Zane's fucked up and evil friends. Zane's friends who would help him commit war crimes.

Truly the ride or die friends of all time.

And uhh, then there's this fucking guy

Ivan the... bitch

I don't actually have a funny clever name for Ivan, I just think he's a little bitch. A little warlock bitch. I think Ivan's sick warlock powers let him get into the Jury easier, but his bitchy cocky attitude did not exactly work well with others. He was a respected fighter, but didn't often play nice with other members of the Jury, particularly Zachary who he got into a lot of fights with, and later Ivy when she joined. He was infuriating to be around, partially because he's just a massive jackass, and partially because he's so good at what he does that he gets away with being a massive jackass.

I don't have a lot to say about Ivan, I will admit. I don't have some dramatic backstory, no deeper connection with anyone, no family that's being blackmailed. Just an entitled bitch of a man. However, I did have a really interesting take about his relationship with Lucinda.

Hear me out on this; Zane finds out that he's potentially going to have to marry the heir to Pikoro. Wanting to avoid the disaster that happened when they tried to ask Garroth to marry someone he'd never met, he sends Ivan undercover into Pikoro to learn more about Lucinda and report back to Zane about his findings. His job was to just observe Lucinda, maybe talk to her once or twice, figure out what kind of person she is and whether she's actually compatible with Zane, or if this marriage is really going to be a sham.

Ivan ends up seducing her and telling Zane that she's a disloyal harlot of a witch. Because Ivan sucks. But y'know, Lucinda doesn't know about any of this, and when Ivan disappears, he lies to her. He leaves Pikoro saying that he's going back to the Academy to be a teacher there, and promises to see her again. In reality he just goes back to Zane, back to normal life, only occasionally sparing a thought for the beautiful witch he met.

And when Zane disappears with Lilian, and the Jury starts to slowly disband itself, Ivan thinks of where to go. What does he want to do with his life? Lucinda.

Good choice honestly. Prick.

That's all for today. See you losers next time when the brainrot really takes over and we tackle my favorite Jury members, who don't necessarily need redesign, but do need some fleshing out. Especially Ivy. See you then ;)

#minecraft diaries #aphblr #text post #jury of nine #jury of redesign #janus the silver death #mcd lilian #mcd ivan #mcd zane

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