#so now i feel like Marie Antoinette

[sagau-my-beloved]

I'm done, oh my god I'm finally done, this week has felt like a month but I've gotten everything done and I'm going to sleep so incredibly hard tonight

Regularly scheduled posting will resume tomorrow, I might get something out tonight but that's very dependent on whether or not I pass out within the next 10 minutes, thank you all for your patience

#hey look i'm talking #so many hours of sleep to catch up on #I feel like I have physically aged 5 years #good thing my hair's already silvery white or i might just be worried about marie antoinette syndrome #I'm gonna sleep for a decade now #goodnight y'all

[doll-elvis]

PRISCILLA (2023)

~ my thoughts as an elvis fan

(credit to @urpinkstargirl for the photo)

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD:

so I saw it last night and I’ve been stewing on it ever since as I wanted to be 100% sure in myself before saying this publicly

**brace yourselves**

After just one viewing… I feel confident in saying that I preferred this film over “Elvis” 2022 🤧. It was just so immersive and so deeply intimate that I walked away from the theater feeling like I had just lived a life with Elvis, and experienced all the ugly and wonderful things that came with it

I am seeing it again tonight and possibly tomorrow just to recapture that feeling (which made me cry… three times…)

And although I’m not the biggest fan of Sofia Coppola, there is simply no denying that she has perfected showing “girlhood” in film, and making the most unique experiences, like being Marie Antoinette and being Priscilla Presley, somehow universal to everybody. I haven’t felt being “14” since I was 14, which was a whole 5 years ago, but WHEW… I most definitely felt 14 again when watching Priscilla navigate life in Germany

Also- we all saw how Austin Butler was completely cheated out of an Oscar and so I’m begging that we do not do that again. Give the Oscar to Cailee Spaeny (who played Priscilla) right now 😤 There are no words besides “immaculate” to describe her performance. Her future is so bright as an actress, I just cannot wait to follow her career + she just seems like the sweetest person ever??

And I know it might seem insane to say that I preferred “Priscilla” over “Elvis” and some of y’all might crucify me for that take but my preference solely comes down to the fact that I appreciate Priscilla’s perspective much more so than the Colonel’s, who to me, has always been the least interesting aspect of Elvis’ story

My biggest gripe with having the Colonel narrative/tell Elvis’ life in the 2022 film is the fact that it made the film feel rather impersonal to Elvis as I don’t think the script or the storytelling ever fully allowed for Austin Butler to explore what he was like beyond the stage

And personally speaking, I have a much deeper love for Elvis the person as opposed to Elvis the performer, and I think that “Priscilla” showed the human side of him far more than “Elvis” ever did (like y’all we actually get to hear and see him reading his philosophy books in this!!!)

But before I get into what was actually depicted in film, and all my praises, I thought I would briefly state what I thought could have been done better. Don’t get me wrong, this movie was beyond amazing, however, it was definitely not without its’ faults:

1. If you have seen a lot of reviewers talk negatively about the pacing in this film- just know that they are unfortunately, completely right in that assessment. The whole timeline of Germany felt literally five minutes long, and the 70s also, felt maybe 10 minutes long which just made both the beginning and end feel rather rushed. Also there were at least 5 scenes that just faded to black before going onto the next one, and some very abrupt cuts in scenes which felt a bit awkward

2. Because this is a biopic, and because it’s based on a real life, there is no climax like you would be accustomed to normally in a film and so I think that the average viewer, like someone who may not really care about Priscilla or Elvis, will probably walk away from the film feeling unsatisfied- possibly bored. I saw it with my mom and my sister, and my mom was asleep in like 45 minutes 😭. The movie definitely got repetitive at some points but I acknowledge the fact that life is repetitive, especially for Priscilla in the 60s while Elvis was off making movies

3. While Priscilla (played by Cailee Spaeny) aged realistically and seamlessly, Elvis (played by Jacob Elordi) was essentially the same person (physically) for 95% percent of the film. For some reason, his hair was already dyed black in the Germany scenes, although we know it was brown at that time, and so there was no real transformation for him until Lisa Marie is born. The height of the actor was definitely jarring at first but eventually I got used to it…however…I damn near busted out laughing when they showed him in the Comeback special outfit 💀 His performance was nothing but incredible (ESPECIALLY THE VOICE) and so I learned to get over the physical disparities rather quickly

4. The ending of this film, particularly the song, was overwhelmingly sad and impactful but I was really disappointed that we didn’t get to see Priscilla’s and Elvis’ relationship after the divorce. This film ends with Priscilla leaving Graceland, starting her “new life”, which didn’t make much sense to me considering this movie was adapted from her book, which very much explores that part of her life, especially with Elvis

I would have really love to seen moments like this from Priscilla’s perspective ⬇️

excerpt from “Priscilla, Elvis and me” (avoid this book)

5. NO CIRCLE G RANCH!!! It is borderline criminal to make a film about Priscilla and Elvis and to not include their time spent at Circle G ranch ** which Priscilla has always said were their happiest times together **. I assume that this was likely an issue because of the budget and the fact that they only had 30 days to film but god… I would have really appreciated some of the domestic bliss that Priscilla and Elvis shared while living in the trailer on the ranch. There were many happy moments/sequences (y’all are going to die when you see the rollerblading/go cart scenes) in this movie, but I think their gradual separation/withdrawal from one another (post marriage) would have hit harder if we saw how happy they were together during their ranch phase

6. For those who have read “Elvis and Me”, we all know about the famed LSD scene that takes place and unfortunately, Coppola heavily missed the mark on it. We don’t see Lamar Fike making out with a tree, we don’t see Jerry Schilling in a closet- instead we see Priscilla and Elvis just kind of rolling around, laughing amongst themselves while the room around them turns different colors

There were definitely many key moments/stories like that missing from the film, and I honestly wish that the movie was an hour longer so that we could have seen the book more fully fleshed out

Lastly, here’s just a general synopsis of the scenes in Germany… I was going to do the whole movie but I don’t have the stamina to type it all out 😭. If y’all want to know something specific please feel free to comment below and I will let you know <3!!

After the beginning credits are shown, the film starts with Currie Grant (who was renamed as Terry West) approaching Priscilla in a diner, inviting her to a party at Elvis’ house. After talking with her parents and assuring them that Priscilla will be looked after by him and his wife, it cuts to her in the back of a car, on her way to meet Elvis. The scene is exactly like how it is in the book, Elvis asks her how old she is, he remarks that she is “just a baby” and so on- Elvis then plays “a Whole lotta shakin” at the piano and that is one of three musical performances we see from him

Priscilla is then re-invited by Currie aka Terry via Elvis to comeback to the house again. Elvis invites Priscilla up to his room, she looks around and sees letters from Anita Wood, and a poster of Bridgette Bardot just like in the book. After Elvis talks about Gladys and how he is still reeling over her death, and how lonely he has felt since then, they share their first kiss to the song “Crimson and Clovers”

There are some scenes of Priscilla at school and some scenes of her sort of convincing her parents to let her continue to see Elvis. And they do agree, but just like in the book, they want to meet him first. Elvis is questioned by Priscilla’s father on why he wants to be with her to which Elvis replies that she is very mature for her age and that he likes talking to her since she is from home aka the United States. He then assures Priscilla’s father that she will be taken care of. After that we see them going to the movies where Elvis expresses how much he wants to be a serious actor, and then they share another kiss on the car ride home. It then cuts to Christmas time where we see Elvis giving Priscilla a watch and then BOOM- Elvis and her are on the way to the airport where they say their final goodbyes as he leaves for the United States

The film really does follow closely to the book (at least from 59’ when they meet to 69’- again the 70s were really rushed) and so I really recommended to read that prior to watching the movie

As for the more sensitive scenes-

There is no explicit sex, no graphic nudity, and no scene where Elvis forces himself upon Priscilla. He does say “this is how a real man makes love to his woman” but all he does is kiss her before she pushes him off. There is a rather long “polaroid-taking” sequence where it shows all the outfits that Elvis would Priscilla dress up in but other than that, we only see Elvis and Priscilla make out

And it did show when Elvis accidentally hit Priscilla in the eye during the pillow fight scene in her book, along with the scene of him throwing a chair in her general direction after she expressed she didn’t like a demo of one his songs, and the scene where he grabs all her clothes from the closet and tells her that she should go visit her parents. I don’t think that the scenes made Elvis look abusive: Coppola was surprisingly nuanced in showing that he had reasons for his sometimes bad temperament i.e the pills he took along with the fact that he was frustrated with his film career

It also shows Elvis’ infidelities but really only through movie magazines that Priscilla sees. So it’s never explicitly shown, I would say it’s more hinted at than anything

And there are two scenes of Priscilla with Mike Stone but again, nothing that is explicitly shown, it’s just hinted at

Finally, to finish this up, this is what I wrote on my Instagram account which I very much stand by ⬇️

Just please give this movie a chance y’all, it was so beautiful and so sensitively done… I cannot wait to watch it again <3

#I was not prepared for this movie #cailee and jacob completely floored me #I’m sorry I ever doubted y’all #give everyone an award #wow #priscilla presley #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023 #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis fans #elvis fandom #sofia Coppola #cailee spaeny #jacob elordi #Spotify

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Heartbreaking Lure

“Are you ready, John?” Sherlock shouts from the bedroom.

“Probably not,” John mutters under his breath.

“Sure,” he says out loud.

John must blink several times when his so-called boyfriend appears in the doorway. If he hadn’t been so familiar with Sherlock’s body and demeanour, John wouldn’t have recognised him. Sherlock looks like someone taken out of the hippie era. A golden-haired wig, long and wavy. He has a cerise coloured hairband across his forehead. The shirt is a loose-fitting thing in denim blue embroidered with yellow and red flowers. Low on his hips, a pair of tight white trousers cling to his muscular thighs and widen considerably just below his knees. Worn trainers complete the outfit.

“You don’t do things halfway, do you, love?” John says rhetorically and approaches the figure he almost can’t fathom is Sherlock Holmes.

Before John reaches him, Sherlock puts on a pair of round spectacles with red glasses, which hide those peculiar eyes of his. 

“You know my ways, John,” Sherlock purrs and pulls John in for a languid kiss.

“I do,” John confirms a bit out of breath after the lovely snog. “Now get your gorgeous arse moving, and I’ll see you later.”

John gives Sherlock’s arse cheeks a good squeeze to emphasise his words and Sherlock gives him a wink before bouncing down the stairs.

***

John feels utterly ridiculous when he’s dressed himself. It’s Sherlock who has bought the costume, and of course it reflects one of the many kinks of the detective. However foolish John feels dressed up as a sailor, he knows it’ll be worth it in the end.

The only way John can get Sherlock to attend a carnival, is for a case, like now. They are both undercover trying to catch the jewellery thief red-handed. 

When John arrives at the posh apartment in Mayfair, Sherlock’s nowhere to be seen.

Clueing for looks somewhere, John thinks to himself and chuckles. 

John’s disguise doesn’t stand out at all. There are all sorts of costumes, from the pompous Marie Antoinette figure to something reminiscent of Jean Valjean when he was imprisoned. A few hippies emerge from another room, but none of them is Sherlock.

John wanders around, his hands clasped on his back as if inspecting a regiment. 

Old habits die hard.

A murmur in his ear, startles him.

“As you were, sailor.”

“Git,” John hisses. “We don’t know each other, remember.”

Sherlock’s rumble is low and makes John’s knees weak with desire. The power Sherlock’s voice has over him should be alarming, but the feeling is far too delicious to fight. 

“The library in five minutes. Second door to the right,” Sherlock whispers and gives John’ earlobe a lick before he’s gone.

John takes a deep breath and steels himself for the confrontation that will happen in a few minutes.

***

“Stop laughing,” John complains when they’re back at Baker Street.

“But, darling, you look so sweet when you’re like this,” Sherlock explains, his voice filled to the brim with glee.

The confrontation had gone well, until the thief had tried to flee. John had tackled the woman, dressed as Zorro, in some sort of boudoir. She had been like an eel in John’s hands and had gotten a hold of a jar of glitter that she had thrusted at John. Sherlock and Lestrade came to his rescue, but the glitter stuck to John’s face, neck, hair and hands.

“I’m taking a shower!” John exclaims while Sherlock still shakes with laughter.

“Jo…John, don…don’t be upset. You look ador…”

“Shut it, Sherlock! Not funny anymore,” John spits and marches to the bathroom.

It takes forever to get rid of all the twinkly bits, and John’s mood has not improved. When he finally turns off the shower, he hears familiar music being played in the sitting room. It’s something John always describes as a heartbreaking lure. “In the Cluster Blues”. One of his favourites, and Sherlock’s way of apologising.

John smiles, his mood suddenly lightening, something only one person in the world is able to make happen so quickly. His beloved Sherlock Holmes.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at @7-percent @ninasnakie

#flash fiction friday #FFF243 #sherlock fandom #john watson #sherlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock #sherlock fanfic #glitter and blues

[skinomyteethh]

Nikki Sixx x reader fanfic? Can be anything :)

mistakes

pairing: nikki sixx x fem! reader

summary; overcoming addiction is hard, especially when you feel like you're in an overwhelming, somewhat lonely place.

contains/warnings; substance abuse i think, nikki relapsing, slight angst?, etc.

authors note; HIIII TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!! I really hope you like this, I honestly didn't know how to end it and it may be all over the place, I haven't written in a WHILEEEEE. also theres some hidden message in the but i cant put it into words rn lolol!

⁶𖤐⁶

moet et chandon decorated the large, wooden cabinets of the dining room, making it look beautifully elegant and sophisticated. the variety of random desserts and pastries made her think of marie antoinette's famous but factitious phrase 'let them eat cake!'

[name] hummed, carefully fixing the flowers in the vases which sat in the middle of the long dining table. it was unlike any other gathering or party Nikki and [name] had ever hosted or gone to. it was unlike the usual rock 'n' roll scene filled with endless booze and random naked women.

as the people began to arrive, the atmosphere was extraordinarily nice. people well versed in etiquette filled the room, cigar smoke lingered throughout the air. nikki shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking around, somewhat nervous. it was unusual of him to be so quiet, so reserved. a small smile spread across his face upon seeing his wife 'in her element'

yet, nikki felt as if he didn't belong there, it was too calm, too relaxed for his liking and what he was use to.

just before the dessert was served he excused himself, walking towards the stairs of his rather luxurious house. nikki entered the master bedroom, opening the multiple dresser drawers frantically searching, for something that would take these feelings away, heroin.

he grasped the medical grade needle, leaning against the bed, ripping the cap of the needle off. nikki opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table, grabbing a somewhat long piece of rope, tying it around his upper arm. nikki took a deep breath, sighing in ecstasy as the needle and the continents of the needle flowed into his veins.

nikki laid his head down against the mattress, closing his eyes. [name] felt somewhat confused, nikki had been gone for far too long. she pranced upstairs, pulling the hem of her dress up as to not step on it. sounds of vomiting could be heard from inside the master bedroom, she knew exactly what that meant, exactly what nikki had been doing.

she quietly entered the bedroom, leaning over and glancing into the connected bathroom. nikki's head hung over the toilet bowl as he once again began vomiting, it was the aftermath of the heroin. [name] glanced down at the ground, picking up the discarded needle, throwing it into the trash can by the vanity.

the loud and unexpected sound of the needle clashing against the metal trash can scared nikki, he haphazardly stood up, his expression filled with worry as he spotted her sitting on the surprisingly neat bed. nikki had broken his promise.

on the day of their wedding he promised he would quit and even go to rehabilitation, but now he had broken his promise and it seemed to have shattered her heart. nikki cautiously inched closer to her, attempting to somehow be able to explain the situation.

"[name] I...." he was caught off by her abrupt movement as she tilted her head up to look at him, though the look om her face did not radiate anger nor frustration, it radiated disappointment but she also seemed somewhat understanding. "why nikki..?" she questioned, her tone was soft and once again the disappointment was evident.

he looked down at the carpet before looking back up at her, sighing before he parted his lips, beginning to speak. "I felt overwhelmed, I didn't know what to do. I felt like I didn't belong there.."

a calm and sophisticated scenery was not what he was use to, it made him feel like an outsider, a weirdo.

nikki glanced back down at the carpet, he excepted her to lash out at him, scream at him for slipping up, but she didn't, instead he felt her arm wrap around him securely and lovingly, he laid his head down on her shoulder, sighing.

[name] seemed to somewhat understand him, her hand gently caressed his upper arm before she freed him from her grasp, speaking once again. "I know quitting isn't easy, and as you begin sometimes you'll slip up unintentionally." she glanced over at the doorway, sighing deeply before placing a soft, quick kiss on his lips.

#nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx fanfiction #motley crue x reader #motley crue fanfiction #vince neil x reader #tommy lee x reader #mick mars x reader #fanfic #mötley crüe fanfiction #nikki sixx fic #mötley crüe x reader #angst with a happy ending #mötley crüe fanfic #nikki sixx imagine #motley crue #mötley crüe #meow

[starfxkr]

ooh dad jj with a teenager has me thinking about dad rafe with a teenager as well 😭 now that’s the definition of a spoiled rich girl

they need to bring my super sweet 16 back just for her because its literally the event of the century.

in classic rich people fashion its roccoo themed and she IS marie antoinette. its custom designer and she obviously outdid everyone. there’s literally an entire room dedicated to her presents and she also gets a fucking custom pink bronco…its insanity

in general though he just never tells her no (much like another person in his life) because he doesnt want her to feel neglected like he did, so its not just material things when she wanted to do ballet he put her in the best classes and showed up to every recital and every dance competition because he knows how important showing up actually is so once she’s in her teens hes a victim to her every whim.

and she never feels like her friends whos parents throw cash at them and disappear, she wants her nails done well he’s coming with her just to spend time with her.

he’d be very strict though i feel, like you’re the fun parent and he’s the disciplinarian because he’s all about family and legacy so no she cannot go out on a date with that scholarship kid at kook academy, his parents maybe be “decent” working class people in the cut but thats not enough for his daughter (nobody is). he doesn’t even let her mess around with half the kook boys

so she kinda gains a reputation of being stuck up and hard to get because rafe instilled in her that if she can find a guy who does more for her than he will then maybe he’ll consider letting her go on a date. which…kinda sucks but also the boys around her are dicks so shes not missing out on much.

#✨.txt #rafe cameron prompt #dad!rafe

[darkbluekies]

King Edmund asks #2

Previous one

Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3

Warnings: yandere

Hey there^^ I wanted to say that I’m sooo in love with your blog🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ Thanks for the hard work^^ I had a question about king Edmund. What if Edmund took darling to the meeting and he tried to convince the other king to give him recourses. But that king refuses and Edmund’s about to loose. And that’s the moment when darling joins the conversation and after some time the other king agrees(basically his darling knows politics and really smart).

[Thank you so much<3]

To be fair, this is a time where it isn't appropriate for women to be interested in politics, so he'd be shocked that you know so much. He'd also be a bit worried. If you're smart, that means that you'll stand against him easier. He'd rather have you cute and dumb.

"My love ... what are you doing? I mean ... thank you for saving me, but what the hell? How do you ...? Why do you ...?"

i was listening to music today and i realised that the song ‘The masochism tango’ by Tom Lehre reminds me sm of Edmund

I listened to it, I can see Edmund listening to it!!

What would yandere king do if he woke up in the morning to us gone again. He might panic and be mad again but it just turns out the reader was in the restroom

"Ah, you son of a bitch, Y/N, giving me a fucking heart attack at eight am! You better come back into bed and make up for that! What if my heart would have stopped, hm? The king could have died!"

It's no secret that Edmund is now.....not a favorite among the people, especially after the conflagration he arranged in the village. And for sure, some relatives of his devoted guardians ended their lives in the most painful way, this circumstance was the last cup of patience, but what darling takes advantage of this and plays the cards so that the hated king falls off the throne into the slums, thereby bringing justice to the people and yourself?

He will never let that happen. He refuses to let anyone take the power away from him. But if it does happen, he will get his revenge on you. You won't be leaving him whatever happens. So, would you rather be locked in him in a big castle where all of your needs are met ... or chained together with him in a ditch somewhere?

I would enjoy living in lavish paradise with Edmund but wouldn't want kids unless there furbabys/dogs/cats would Edmund be fine with this?

I mean ... he wouldn't have too much of a problem with it, but the country would. You need an heir. Edmund would try to convince you to have one ... even if you've made up your mind.

"We don't have to care for it", he says. "We can just birthed it and let maids take care of it. My parents did that to me and it worked."

You take one look at him and shake your head. "Over my dead body. I don't need another one of you."

"And what's that supposed to mean-"

When I think of the Edmund five I think of a Marie Antoinette vibe I really liked that time period.Most likely because of the indie movie I really liked that movie what do you think?

Hm, interesting thinking, i can see what you mean. For me it's more of a fairytale thing, like medeveal (?) but not at the same time? His timeline is quite timeless.

hi i want to tell you about this random thought I had, but what if edmund's darling was a noble and his fiance right from the start? what would change between their relationship?? and would it make a difference if the fiance only feel obligated and complied to care about him cuz of the arranged marriage?? thank you and have a great day/night‼️‼️‼️

He'd be more than thrilled because he wouldn't have to create that blood bath he planned, but his violence wouldn't end. He is a young man needing that spark in his life. For him, it wouldn't really matter why you were nice to him, as long as you were.

What would Edmund do if we don't like being pampered? As in like we don't want to wear jewelry or fancy clothes we just want to wear comfy clothes also we'd start crying and begging not to wear fancy clothes if he forced us

He'll try to pursuade you since his reputation is a big deal for him, but when your eyes become so red and puffy with tears and you can barely breathe, he'll give up. He'll embrace you, whispering that you won't have to wear the clothes often. Only on important events. His heart will ache at the feeling of your trembling body in his arms, but he knows that he can't give in too much, he's still a king who has his rules.

"Don't cry, my queen, everything has a solution. We just have to compromise. Wipe those tears and sit down in my lap so we can talk."

Edmund - *kills hundreds* Reader - >:( Edmund - I Uh- I love you? Reader - >:( *angrily happy*

aww haha itll be like that sometimes

——————————————————

Edmunds (or however you spell it) better gimme attention now or I'ma throw a tantrum.

Oh, don't you worry, his eyes are all on you. You have all the attention he can give a person. Now spin around and dance with him.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere oc x you #yandere stories #yandere king #yandere royal #yandere scenarios

[rmsstevielol]

Marie Antoinette girlies baffle me.

Every single time i have seen a video on Marie Antoinette it is literally just someone feeling bad for her and being a complete royal sympathiser, backing it up wiht “she was just a child” no she wasn’t..

She AND Louis were both children when married which is bad and honestly i do feel bad that they had to marry completely blind to what the other person was like and at ages 14/15 honestly that it sad however, when they were crowned king and Queen they weren’t technically children, yes they were still young but they were not babies and knew that they had duties to do as the monarchs or France. People seem to make the decisions that Marie Antoinette was completely innocent and “just a child” when in fact her whole country was starving and dying and all she and her husband could do is practically bathe in money like it grew on trees, and they wonder why there was a rebellion… 💀

Marie Antoinette was actually quite aware of what was going on in France but she just didn’t solve it along with her husband and the weird thing is that the girlies feeling bad for her and saying she deserved so much better don’t say a single word on Louis because apparently he was in the wrong and she wasn’t. If you are going to be a royal sympathiser for her then might as well do it for him too, they did the exact same thing.

Now I know Marie got a bit more backlash becuase she was a women too i understand that and I think all the propaganda and drawings of her were disgusting and absolutely unnecessary but please just remember she was in the wrong and she was arrogant for not helping her country (so was Louis, both were completely at fault) and she wasn’t a child when she was Queen and she wasn’t innocent.

My opinions on this is that the people’s anger was completely justified but a lot of their actions were not e.g. they could’ve let Louis and Marie escape and they should never have done what they did to Madame de lamballe, however at the end of the day Louis and Marie Antoinette were as bad as eachother and should never have ruled France and they weren’t some innocent Pookies we should be idolising or glorifying it is so embarrassing..

#marie antoinette #louis xvi #french revolution #american history #amrev #american revolution #Madame de lamballe #marie antoniette 2006

[angiecatz]

Ja, Christmas Spirit Part: 1

König x F!Reader

A/N: Christmas came early, I know I said Dec.1st But I just couldn't resist!

Summary: “You, A young author, were gifted an enchanted pen that allowed you to unknowingly bring characters into your world. And you just so happened to be writing fanfiction with that pen. So, you are thrown into a cliche Hallmark movie timeline with your biggest fictional crush, König and the only way to send him home is to find your “Christmas spirit.” But can you bear to see him go?”

WC: 5.8k

The cold was the perfect time to write. You could be bundled up, have tea, AND be productive? What was not to love! No one could nag in your ear about going outside and getting sunlight. There wasn't much sunlight to get.

It was a big upgrade from the heat of summer that made you feel sweaty and tired. Those were the times when no writing got done. You mostly just slept through all of Summer.

For those reasons, you loved winter. Along with the fact that Starbucks was selling peppermint mocha again. To hell with everyone who said it tasted like toothpaste.

Maybe part of you felt sad that you were sitting alone in your room three days from Christmas. The only thing to look forward to is also the thing you dread. Writer's block had hit like a bitch this fall.

Now, you finally had some inspiration. You didn't even have to set your phone on mute nobody ever called anyway. You just turned on your favorite playlist and sat down at your desk.

The plan was to spend the evening writing about your fictional little worlds and AU’s.

You had everything set up, your papers, laptop, and tea. You already had a loose idea of what you would be writing. You had scrolled through Pinterest, and even made a board or two for the aesthetic.

First, you would start with the planning phase of writing in your trusty journal.

You opened your desk drawer and pulled out a small decorative box. Inside, laid on a golden silk plush pillow was the fanciest pen you had ever seen in your life. Even though it's already at the very least your fourth time seeing it, it still blew your mind.

With white and gold, it looked like something Marie Antoinette would have LOVED if she had been around for it. Straight out of Versaille. It must have cost a fortune, your best friend had bought it for you as an early Christmas present.

You hadn't used it when you got it. You wanted to wait for the perfect moment and this was it. You carefully closed the box and placed it to the side. Next, you placed the tip of the pen on the paper.

The ink flowed onto the paper like a gentle stream, letter by swoopy letter you wrote out the name König.

Yes, the perfect moment for the perfect pen was a fanfiction moment. You had to keep your dedicated readers fed after all. An x-reader of course. The little people scurrying around on Tumblr and Ao3 loved x-readers. They especially loved the tall man who wore a shirt as a mask and went around shooting and breaking backs.

You’d be lying if you didn't feel like barking every time you saw him. But that was your little secret, one only the anonymous people of the internet were allowed to know.

The writing came easy, and for once you didn't want to pull your hair out. ‘It’s all in the pen,’ you thought. It must be. This was too easy. The pen glided across the paper like a knife on warm butter.

You lost track of time and quickly filled out three whole pages of ideas. When you looked up, the sun had gone down and you could see the street lights on through your bedroom window.

How time flies when you're having fun. It took a great effort on your part to place the pen back into its box and close the notebook.

Even as you crawled into the warmth of your bed and closed your eyes all you could think about was a certain 6 '10 monster of a man.

You woke up uneasy. A deep gut feeling that you got even before you opened your eyes. A prey-like feeling, It felt like someone was watching you.

You knew you should open your eyes, but it was just so much easier to keep them closed. You even reached out to pull your blanket closer to your body. Maybe if you ignored it, it would go away. Yeah, that was a wonderful idea, You fought the urge to just pull the blanket over your head and hide. It was probably nothing. You would have heard if someone broke in anyway.

But no matter how long you waited, whatever ‘it’ was didn't seem intent on leaving. You waited in vain for a few more seconds.

Then you got the most wonderful thought, ‘Hey! I am a grown-ass woman. I ain't scared of no ghosts!’ So you snapped your eyes open fully expecting to see nothing but your room.

Instead, your eyes met the weird tactical pants of someone who is very much not see-through. Your eyes climbed the form in horror.

Up, up, up, and even more up, up, up, Until you reach the cold blue eyes, the only thing you could really make out against the dark backdrop of your room.

That is very much not a ghost. In your ‘I'm a grown woman’ thought you failed to realize that grown women have grown problems. And sometimes those problems are intruders here to rob and kill you… Or worse.

You would have loved to say you let out a good blood-curdling scream, but what came out of your mouth was more akin to the high-pitched squeak of a startled rabbit.

You scrambled out of bed as fast as you could, which proved to be not very fast according to the giant weighted blanket you insisted on sleeping with.

It ended up being you having to roll out of bed and then rolling too far onto the floor with a blanket tangled up in your legs.

The man just gave an amused high-pitched chuckle. Great now not only is he going to murder YOU, but he's also going to laugh and make you feel embarrassed while doing it.

He kneeled onto your bed to peer over the other edge to look at you, who was currently stuck in something that looked vaguely like the family guy death pose.

“Are you alright?” He asked in an accented voice.

Aw, how sweet, the burglar cares if you're alright! Perhaps if this was one of your stories you would think that gesture is sweet and kind of hot, but this is real life. And that question rang disturbingly.

After a few seconds, you had finally gotten yourself together and were able to stand up. Although maybe you shouldn't have, because the quickness of your movements sent a bunch of blood from your brain to your feet and caused you to stumble a bit and feel lightheaded.

Great. You are one hundred percent ready to fight off the strange man. Top physical and mental fitness! No chance you would lose! The man before you came into view as your eyes finally focused and blinked away the sleep.

Your first thought was ‘GODDAMN!’ His stature and build were very impressive and horrifying. Your second thought was, ‘What a strange mask’. Black with eye holes cut out and bleached tear streaks. It looked vaguely familiar. Scratch that it looked really familiar.

The man tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy, “Did you hit your head?”

You thought you must have, long before you woke up this morning. Might have even been when you were a baby and the hallucinations were just setting in today. There was no way in hell this mountain of a man before you was the König.

The one from a video game. He wasn't even a main character. You are not a woman of science but you are one hundred percent sure video game characters do not randomly come to life. There's no possible explanation in the entirety of the universe that would make this make sense.

But even the accent was to a tea, and you were pretty sure sniper hoods were not a common choice for burglars.

Unless this was some weird stalker that knew of your ‘obsession’. Again, flattering in fanfiction but terrifying in real life.

“What?” You managed to stutter the words out somehow.

“Maybe you really did.”

You felt the need to defend yourself, “I did not!”

“How the hell are you? How did you get into my house?!” You quickly added on. This was strange, your eyes darted around in hopes of finding something to defend yourself with. Water bottle, walmart heater, pillows. Yup, you were thoroughly unprepared to defend yourself.

“You already know who I am.” He slowly climbed back off of your mattress and returned to his full stature.

“No.”

There was that stupid fucking head tilt again, “No?”

“You’re just some crazy dude! I'm calling the cops!” As soon as the words left your mouth you realized that maybe angering him was not the best idea. He was back on the bed in a flash, his large arm stretched and his hands grabbed hold of your outstretched arm.

“What the fu-”

It only took him one hand to yank you onto the bed and soon you were on your back with him on top of you, using his body weight and hands to keep you pinned to your own mattress.

“Do not play dumb with me little lamn, now send me back,” His voice dipped dangerously low as he hissed the words out.

You struggled against his hold. You tried to rip your hands away, and buck your hips up in hopes of throwing him off, but none of it worked. It just made him press your wrists further into the mattress.

“What the hell do you mean send you back?! I don't even know who you are!” You bit back.

“Liar! I have seen your journals, I have seen that cursed pen!”

His hold wasn't letting up. This man was truly crazy with his nonsensical accusations.

“I really don't know! Let me go!”

He actually listened to you and let one of your arms go. You thought he had maybe come to his senses and was going to let you go. But no, he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a grumbled paper. His other hand stayed firmly over your wrist.

He managed to unscramble it himself and shove it in your face. Your eyes had to adjust a moment to make sense of it.

“A writer’s heart, pure and kind, Is the secret to unlocking the mind, For 'tis true what the tales say: That the path to our worlds lies this way.

Only once we find our inner hope, And unlock the secrets of the world at our scope, Shall the world be a brighter sight, For the spirit of love and joy must ignite!

Seek within, find your true self, And unlock the spirit upon your shelf, Then him, your spirit can save,”

It was in your handwriting, with the delicate nature of the pen. This was yours. Torn from a page of your own journal. The thing was though, you had no memory of ever writing such an absurd poem. You don't write poems. They were the one thing that ruined your high school English grade.

And you certainly wouldn't write such a pretentious one that sounded like it came from a Hallmark movie. You happened to have a strong dislike of the channel.

“What the actual fuck is going on?!” You demanded, and you snatched the paper from him with your free hand. You had long since given up trying to get out from under him.

“That is what I would like to know. One moment I was on the field and next I was in a white room and now here.”

“Then go back to the field I don't care! Just get out!”

“I CAN’T!” He yelled back. He was off you like a shot, you stayed frozen on your bed as he thundered over to your bedroom door. He was finally leaving, you thought. He yanked your door open so hard he almost ripped it completely off its hinges.

The noise of it slamming into the wall made you flinch. You sat up in your bed and watched him, too scared to try and escape.

His hand reached out, albeit a little shaky and unstable. His fingers had just barely grazed the threshold before he had yanked them back and a loud ZAP rang out through the room. It sounded like he had just run straight into a human-sized bug zapper.

“I can’t leave. I've tried everything.” He muttered as he clutched his hand.

Now that he mentioned it your room was in disarray. Your window was propped open and multiple books were scattered across the floor.

Things had just gone from murderer-level scary to supernatural-level scary. A category that was very very hard to wrap your head around.

A strange man, who just so happened to be a dead ringer for your favorite video game character, a strange letter, and now an unleaveable room?

You had to see this for yourself. You got yourself up and neared your door. You kept extra care to stay as far away from ‘König’(you might as well accept it by now). You didn't want to get zapped. That shit looked like it hurt.

But if you got zapped then maybe you weren't having some weird mental breakdown and König wasn't just some dude and the actual König.

Like ripping a bandaid off.

You braced yourself and you pushed your fingers through the threshold of the door, squeezed your eyes shut, and…..

… …. …..

Nothing. No zap. No excruciating pain. Nothing. Zip. Nada.

You were perfectly fine. You even waved your hand around a bit. König bristled up at this and stuck his own hand in the door beside yours. No zap. He too also waved his hand around a bit.

Wonderful. He had tricked you. He wasn't König and that stupid poem must have just been something you wrote after a really long night. This dude was an excellent actor. Could it be this is some crazy culty acting school assignment? You really need to stop coming up with such outlandish theories.

You pulled back your hand and jumped back in case he tried to grab you again.

As soon as your hand was back in the room there was a zap and König yelled out in pain. He jumped back like a hissing cat.

“What is this?!” He demanded.

“How the hell should I know?!” You responded.

In the distance, bells rang. With a soft jingle jingle that came through the open window. You looked back at König, and behind him, you could see tiny little snowflakes starting to fall.

That was strange. You rarely ever get snow. Not once in your life had you ever gotten a white Christmas. Must be global warming…

Enough of these games you thought, “Get out of my house.”

“Did you not just see? Don't you think I've tried?!” He gestured widely to your bedroom door.

“I walked out the door just fine!” To prove your point you backstepped till you were past the threshold of your room and in your hallway.

There was no zapping, not that you expected it this time. You were perfectly fine. You walked out the door just fine. So maybe trying to negotiate with some intruder you should make a run for it. So that's just what you do.

If he isn't faking the zaps then he can't run after you, and if he is? Well, you just hope your sudden sprint caught him by surprise and gave you enough time to reach your front door.

You had neighbors, nosey ones at that. If you ran out all crazy they would surely call the cops. Wouldn't be the first time they called the cops on you, this time it would be for a good reason.

You got all the way past the bathroom when you heard thundering footsteps behind you.

Shit.Shit.Shit!

Hearing someone much bigger than yourself run after you is another type of fear. You could hear him getting closer and closer with each step. He was much quicker than you, that much was obvious.

You had just barely graced the edge of the hallway when a strong, large, pair of arms wrapped around your midsection.

You shrieked as anyone would, You tried to thrash around in his arms but the tight hold he had on you only allowed you to wiggle a bit without feeling like a too-tightly gripped stress ball. If he used even a miniscule amount more of his strength you were sure you'd pop.

Your lack of ability to struggle allowed him to maneuver you like a rag doll. He flipped you around so his hands held you firmly right below the armpits. Your legs dangle uselessly.

He was shaking, and so were you. You were worried he’d start shaking you and demanding answers you don't even know the question to. That couldn't be good for your brain.

“How and why am I here?” König yelled the question he had already asked multiple times.

“Why would I know?! I just woke up to you standing over me!”

“What was that room then? And the letter?!” The angrier he got the more jumbled his pronunciation got, and his accent was slowly becoming more and more noticeable.

“I DON'T KNOW!” Your voice cracked and your tears threatened to spill.

König finally seemed to take your answer seriously, “You really don't know?”

“I’m just as confused as you are.”Now please put me down you thought.

He understood your silent plea and placed you back on your feet. He nodded and turned his head to the kitchen you both were just mere inches from. Here, he had a direct line to the back patio door.

He stepped into the kitchen with no problem. With a sense of confidence, he quickly stepped to the door, he had finally found an exit. He had gotten past your bedroom, only a few steps more and he’d be free.

As soon as his fist closed on the doorknob, an electrical current was burned through him, from the very tips of his fingers to the ends of his hair. His mouth just dropped open in a completely silent scream.

When he finally was able to pull his hand away from the old-fashioned door knob, he stumbled right onto the floor, twitching and convulsing.

You gasped and ran to his side. He might be some weird Call of Duty-dressed burglar but he was still a person. And if he died in your house aren’t you legally responsible?

Your mind ran through your limited knowledge of first aid. Why couldn't you have taken some classes sooner? Your research for fanfic wasn't nearly enough.

You placed your hands lightly on his back as he shook. You had to do something. You had to figure something out. You were running out of time. He would die. He would die right here on your kitchen floor and the police would come take you away.

Breaking Bad

YES! Yes yes yes that's right! You could remember it so clearly. One of the characters started convulsing so they turned them on their side. That's got to be right. T.V. occasionally gets medical advice right.

Isn't that only so they don't choke on their vomit? This dude doesn't look like he's about to throw up… Still, it's the best idea you've got.

So that's what you do. Inspired by Breaking Bad, you rolled the mammoth of a man onto his side. It took some effort, he’s completely dead weight and you haven't hit the gym in a while.

Eventually, you got it right. You have him propped up with some throw pillows from your couch in what you thought was the proper position.

Next, He needed help. Real help, not help from some random twenty-something woman who writes fanfiction in her free time. Help from a professional.

He balanced and did not immediately plop over when you took your hands off of him, That must be a good sign, right?

Nonetheless, it allowed you to race back to your room, grab your phone, and race back in record time. You kneeled down next to König again and typed in shaky numbers. You missed typing a couple of times and had to restart. Three numbers should be this hard, get it together!

9 1 1

The phone rang and rang. It rang for too long. Aren’t 911 operators supposed to pick up immediately? That's their whole point is it not? To answer in emergencies? He could die at any moment and nobody could be bothered to pick up the phone.

You must just be tripping yourself out, you reasoned. You're too freaked out and so the seconds feel much longer than they actually are. That has to be the reason.

You focused on Königs breathing instead of the ringing in your ear.

The line goes down with a long beep. No answer.

Shit.

So much for emergency services.

Well, that's just great. Now he's really going to die. You must be going crazy at this point. You look at your kitchen window from your spot on the floor. You could see it, the snow piled upon the window sill. Perfect and untouched. Such a strange thing. It had only just started snowing a moment ago.

Slowly bell chimes started to ring outside your house. It sounded like there were Christmas Carolers right outside the door. Maybe they could help?

You felt dizzy. Way too dizzy to be normal. Your phone slipped from your hand and onto your wood flooring. The edge of your vision went blurry.

When you woke again it was to the smell of cinnamon and gingerbread. You hadn't made gingerbread in a long long time.

You were warm and pleasant. Wrapped up in a knit blanket near a fire in your fireplace and some roasted chestnuts.

Strange. You could have sworn you had passed out on the kitchen floor with some dude.

Oh well, that problem could wait for tomorrow. You were way too warm and comfy to even think about getting up. There was some moving next to you, and the couch dipped and creaked.

That made you open your eyes. Right next to you, passed out on your couch is König(you couldn't think of anything else to call him), a blanket wrapped around him.

“What the Fuck….” You whispered.

You could hear Christmas music playing in the background, from your T.V. You don't listen to Christmas music. With much wiggling, you were able to free yourself from the confines of the blanket.

König managed to sleep through it. You were on your feet, thankfully in the same clothes you remember being in. The real problem started when you looked down at your coffee table. There was a platter of Gingerbread on a festive platter right in the middle of it.

You don't own festive decor or gingerbread. Did König do this? How could he have done this when just moments ago he was having a seizure on the ground?

Your question was answered by a blinding white light like a nuclear bomb had just gone off in the middle of your living room.

You shielded your eyes with the crook of your arm. A feminine disembodied voice spoke, “A writer’s heart, pure and kind, Is the secret to unlocking the mind, For 'tis true what the tales say: That the path to our worlds lies this way.

Only once we find our inner hope, And unlock the secrets of the world at our scope, Shall the world be a brighter sight, For the spirit of love and joy must ignite!

Seek within, find your true self, And unlock the spirit upon your shelf, Then him, your spirit can save”

The poem from earlier. The voice was not one you remembered so you asked, “God?” You weren't really expecting an answer but she did.

“No. I am the Christmas spirit.”

No Christmas spirit.The Christmas spirit. You almost laughed. You would have thought it was just some weird prank. But the blinding light was too true.

“You have things to do,” The Christmas spirit said.

“Things?” You asked.

“König must go home, he's not from here,” The spirit continued.

“You can't possibly mean….” You trailed off. There was no possible way König was the König from the video game. You had already gone over this. But a lot of things have started to seem possible lately.

“Only you can send him home, just follow my poem.”

How perfectly vague. Wonderful answer that wasn't even an answer.

“Oh wow, I'm the chosen one and the only one who can save him how original.” You said sarcastically.

“Only you can send him home, just follow my poem.” The voice repeated.

The light filtered out and the dimly light yellow lighting of your living room trickled in in its place. The voice and godly light were gone.

“I wasn't lying,” A male voice said behind you.

You looked over your shoulder. König was awake. Sat on your couch leaned over with his elbows balanced on his knees. He looked up at you with haunted blue eyes. That whole experience proved the limited story he had provided you with.

“The Christmas spirit,” you said.

“Ja, The Christmas spirit,” He agreed.

How absurd. People love to say things like “This only ever happens in movies” but this kind of shit really ONLY happens in movies.

“I would like to go home.”

“I would like you to go home.”

Wonderful then, You were both on the same page. You repeated the poem in your head. You ran over it till you found the first line that could be a clue.

“Only once we find our inner hope, And unlock the secrets of the world at our scope,” You mumbled.

“Hope?” König asked, “Hope for what.”

“Maybe we need to find our Christmas spirit? That's always what the characters in the movies have to do.” You looked around your living room, it wasn't decorated for the holidays at all. You never hosted so there really wasn't a point. The strange cookies and Christmas music was the only thing festive and they were not even yours.

So was that it? You just needed to decorate your house for Christmas? That was going to prove difficult by the fact that the back patio door was a death trap. You had an inkling feeling that the front door would be the same.

“I don't celebrate Christmas….”

“Neither do I,” You responded.

König shifted uncomfortably. Emphasis on uncomfortably, König was very very uncomfortable right now. Turns out it is kind of awkward to be sitting on the couch of some girl he had almost killed a few moments ago.

There was no way out either. Oh, what König would have given to be able to just run out and straight back onto the battlefield.

You, on the other hand, were not that uncomfortable. Just mildly annoyed and amazed that a real-life video game character that you had just been writing fanfiction about last night was sitting on your couch.

“Oh!” You said.

König jostled just slightly at your sudden exclamation.

“We can just look it up!” You don't know why you hadn't thought about it earlier. You had a perfectly working phone. If you ignored the 911 incident.

The results came up in seconds. You clicked on the first link.

How to find your Christmas spirit: 1. Focus on the present: Try not to get caught up in the past or worry about the future. Instead, focus on the present moment and find joy in the simple things around you. 2. Practice appreciation: Find things to be grateful for each day, whether it's a favorite meal, a beautiful sunset, or the time you have with loved ones. Gratitude can help shift your focus away from negative thoughts and feelings. 3. Spread kindness: Do something nice for someone else, whether it's baking some cookies, volunteering at a local charity, or simply offering a kind word. Helping others can bring a sense of joy and fulfillment. 4, Nurture your spiritual side: If you have a spiritual practice, consider incorporating it into your holiday festivities. This can help you find a deeper sense of connection and meaning during the season. 5, Take a break from the hustle and bustle: Sometimes, the busiest and most hectic times around the holiday season can make it hard to find your Christmas spirit. 6. Try to take some time for yourself, whether it's a quiet walk in nature or a hot bath, to reconnect with yourself and your inner peace. 7. Remember that finding your Christmas spirit is a process, and it might take some experimentation and trial and error to find what works best for you. The important thing is to be intentional about your efforts and to allow yourself to enjoy the holidays, even in the midst of their challenges.

Blah. Blah. Blah. A lot of worthless advice. You were honestly expecting to get something like “Bake cookies” and “Decorate your house.” Not a whole bunch of hypothetical feelings and emotions.

“Ok. So we're in the present.”

König nodded. You continued, “We need to not focus on the past then.”

You sat down on your couch, right next to König. You missed how he stiffened up and straightened his back. You gave him your name. Step one is taken.

“....König,” He responded.

“You're in the military, no?” You knew the answer. You had spent a lot of time writing fanfiction about him.

“Mercenary.” Yeah, one-word answers. He didn't seem to be all that interested in talking to you.

“We have to talk if we’re gonna find out Christmas Spirit or Whatever.”

“I still think we should just decorate.” He looked around your living room for areas to start with.

“Well I don't have any decorations, and I can't exactly go outside.” You huffed as you flopped back against the backing of the couch.

At your words, Koning jumped up onto his feet with an idea, “What if you can?”

“What? Yeah no I don't feel like getting shocked.”

“I couldn't leave the bedroom until after you did. Maybe it will be the same.”

Maybe it would. But that was a gamble. Either you can walk through the front door or you die of some strange electrical Christmas shock. But the thing is you don't gamble. You're pretty sure you can find your “Christmas spirit” inside your own house and stay very much alive.

“We don't know if it will be the same,” You sighed.

“We have to try!”

Wow. He seemed to really want out of this house. You frowned when he said ‘we’ he wasn't the one having to walk through an electrical field just to see the sun.

When you didn't respond König continued, “You have to have hope.”

His words were erratic as he made his way to your front door. You watched him but didn't bother getting up to follow him. You watched his wide shoulders hunch as he leaned down to look through your peephole.

“I can see your driveway that is good, Ja?”

“What else would you see?”

He ignored you. He stepped away from the door and stood there. Maybe he was counting the grain of wood, you thought. He stared for a long second. And then another. And another. König finally turned back to you with a confused dear, like he actually expected you to open it.

“I’m not touching that thing.”

König closed his eyes for a good, long moment, “You are right. I can't expect you to put yourself in danger. I should be the one doing the protecting.”

He turned back around and raised his hand for the doorknob. You shot up from your spot on the couch and shouted, “STOP!”

He froze and looked over his shoulder back at you, sniper mask wrinkling in weird places and catching to the shape of his nose.

“Don't do that. We know what happens.” You weren't about to have him convulsing on your floor again. That would be such a hassle, no other reason.

“You're probably right. I'll open it.” You said as you attempted to make your way to the door. You were stopped by Königs arm that flew out to act as a barrier between you and the door.

“I can not allow you to do that. You could get hurt.”

“What the hell?! A moment ago you were basically begging me to do it.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” He lowered his arm, only to place his hand on your shoulder and push you back.

OH hell no! Now you have to do it. For nothing more than spite. Spite was a great motivator. You ducked under his arm and made a reach for the door knob. König was a trained killer. He had the agility and the strength to catch you before your hand even got close to the doorknob. He swapped you up into his arms and held you tightly against his chest.

Like this you could feel his heartbeat against his chest, you could feel every muscle in his contract and twitch as you squirmed in his hold.

“We will find another way. You will not put yourself in danger.”

You stopped squirming in his grasp. You knew you couldn't get out of the grip he had made that glaringly obvious this morning. You could admit defeat.

König placed you back on the ground, and you stared at your shoes all sad and mopey-like.

“Do not be sad. Girls like you shouldn't ever be sad. We will find another way.”

You nodded and pointedly ignored the ‘girls like you part.’ He seemed to take your response as the truth and your agreement and moved away from the door. That's when you made your second dive and succeeded.

“Scheiße!”

Your finger wrapped around the door knob and your eyes squeezed shut as you thrust your body against it. It flew open with your weight and sent you flying right into the snow. It was all silent as the snow started to work its way through your pajamas.

The snow crunched behind you as König stepped out of the house.

“That was very stupid.” He kneeled down next to you.

You gave him a half-hearted thumbs up, “It worked though.”

“That it did.”

You could hear the birds and some cars as they zipped by. It seemed the rest of the world was normal and you were the only one who had a video game character randomly show up in their bedroom. Lucky you.

Taglist: @bubbleseven @homicidalsquirrels

#konig x reader #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig mw2 #könig x reader #könig x you

[wizzard890]

One of my biggest pet peeves is when books or movies are like "what if it’s the past but with things like selfies and shutter shades and yas queen" and don't....have anything to say with that. I’m not talking about comedies, I’m talking about historical anachronisms that get deployed in dramas. 

Like, this is a stylistic choice, and thanks to things like Hamilton, it’s one that’s becoming more and more common, so I get all sorts of opportunities to think about why some examples are so shallow and annoying, and why others work so well. 

I think of it as the difference between Sophia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette - an enormously sensitive and successful example! - and the Broadway musical Six, which is the poster child for “doing an anachronism to make the Notorious RBG crowd cheer”. 

In Six, Anne Boleyn is portrayed as a ditzy party girl who didn’t think anything could touch her until something manifestly did. She’s not into politics or long-term plots, she just wants to fuck around and have a good time. The creators cast her as a dumb popular chick in way over her head. 

Now, do I find that an enormously boring take on Anne Boleyn? Obviously. But the real question is why have they chosen these specific anachronisms? The phone, describing her letters with King Henry as “texting” and “replies”. It’s a sort of SNL take on history, lazily swapping courtier with influencer; her “lol”s and “sorry not sorry”s don’t bring you any closer to the emotional truth of her situation. 

(And before you say “but Six is a comedy!” it’s a: not really, and b: a musical that contains a harrowing song* about a woman’s experience of being sexually assaulted as a child, and then again at multiple points throughout her life**, so I do feel they had the range, had they chosen to reach for it.)

Dramatic anachronism, when employed well, gives us touch points to recognize. It renders a world that may feel alien as legible to a modern audience, who come in with their own associations and biases. And so the best anachronisms are specific.

“Wouldn’t it be kind of funny if Anne Boleyn was a party girl because she was a big deal in court and everyone had hard opinions on her?” That’s a sketch idea, not a thoughtful deployment of anachronism to deepen an audience’s understanding of what’s happening in front of them. 

Contrast with this famous shot from Sophia Coppola’s 2006 movie Marie Antoinette. 

Now, what is the point of those Chuck Taylors? What do they communicate to an audience, especially in the mid-aughts? What do they think of when they think of out of touch rich girls who spend all their time shopping and drinking and spoiling their little dogs and wearing pastel colored high tops? Oh right:

The movie is not asking: what if Anne Boleyn was sort of like a girl who shops at Revolve? It’s not even asking: what if Marie Antoinette was a girl like you, who probably owns high tops?

It’s asking, directly: what if Paris Hilton, someone you all already hate, with her baggage and inadequacy and shallowness and mean-spiritedness and humanity and probably genuine unhappiness -- what if she had an angry, starving, justified mob at her door, who blame her for something that is, in part, her fault. Would you feel sorry for her? I mean, people chase her around all the time in real life, and make her miserable, and she’s starving herself to death in front of us and everyone calls her a slut and an idiot. And maybe she, Paris Hilton, is an idiot. Anyway, focus on the screen: should this gluttonous, unprepared, wasteful, shallow Austrian woman be tormented unto her ultimate demise for being an idiot? 

That’s what successful, thoughtful anachronism does. It asks you to make connections between yourself and the past, your social impulses and the things that governed people long dead. It wants to help you recognize the ways that we are different and how in others we never change. 

It’s a powerful tool when employed directly, and I think it’s a huge bummer that writers rarely seem to understand that. 

--

*All You Wanna Do is the only number in the show that actually works, because they use the tee-hee pop princess conceit to pull the rug out from under you and reveal something genuinely horrible.

**Six has a tone problem. 

#I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TAG THIS BUT OOOH IT GRINDS MY GEARS #the live cast album of six dropped a while ago and it's just the platonic example of poorly deployed anachronism #six the musical #marie antoinette 2006

[blue-jisungs]

Hi axe! Since you're a fellow polish person here on tumblr what polish names would you assign to your moots? Love your works and hope you're doing okay 🙏❤️

ONH HIYA ANNONIE!!! this is such a fun ask ilysm im kissing u on the forehead virtually rn!!! 🥹 i tried to do all/most of my moots so it was a bit of a challenge lmaosjwk tysm dear and i hope you’re doing well too!! <33

also disclaimer: in polish names are purely feminine or masculine, there’s little names that could fit both genders so i tried my best w the male names!! also fun fact that no one asked for – all female names end with the letter a!! :D

sorry for such w long post, i got too excited 🫂🥲

@slytherinshua would be zuzanna, zuzia for short!! even tho i have some trauma connected w that name lmao it just fits perfectly !!

@eternalgyu hannie,, similarly lol but hanna – hania, hanka for short 🥹🥹 i’ve met some hanias and they were all the most adorable people ever just like hannie

@wheeboo okay pls im so sorry but it was the first thought ever when i saw your name rania. there’s a polish name that’s very similar to yours – renia (the full name is renata). and even tho it’s usually an older lady name lol i think it’s cute :( one of my teachers’ name was renia and i have some good memories w that name ^^

@weird-bookworm okay now idk why but sky gives me jagoda vibes. jagoda literally means berry so both sky n jagoda are physical things (?) so it fits hehe. if you’re curious about the nickname, it could be jadzia or jaga lol. actually there’s a tale about baba jaga (like the witch who wanted to cook hansel and gretel [jaś i małgosia] living in a house made out of gingerbread and it was like standing on a chicken leg) but i don’t think it’s a short for jagoda. just a fun fact 😭

@rubywonu nia… hmm id say natalia!! its literally a polish ver of natalie lmao but it’s cute and it fits ^^ nati for short from what i’ve experienced hehe

@fairyhaos now yena i was struggling w you lmao. there’s no names in poland starting with y so i couldn’t pick anything starting w that letter lol (well technically there’s yasmine but imo it’s not fully a polish name…?). we mostly transcribe y as j, so i went in that direction aaaand chose jaśmina. there was literally a lightbulb appearing above my head when i thought of that. yes, the word root is literally jasmine but it’s so… tender, soft, gentle. just like u dear :’)

@taeiun ehh junjunnie i’ll be honest – yours was the toughest one. i know you use he/she pronouns but there’s literally no neutral names lmfao (i mean there are like a few but they’re meeeh). so if you don’t mind – a more feminine one that i think suits you well + it’s literally so pretty – antonina (yes, like marie antoinette), tosia for short 🥹🥹🥹 on a more masculine side i would settle for jakub, kuba or kubuś (there’s a juice/kids food brand w that name it’s so cute🥹) for short!! :D

@haecien omg pls i was thinking for such a long time but then it enlightened me. and polish moots dont laugh or ill bite you. czesiu. LIKE CMON🥹 the full name is czesław, it’s kinda oldish lol but there’s a singer i like – czesław mozil, he also dubbed polish olaf and i feels like … czesiu, cien… pls it fits sm :(

@planetkiimchi i wasn’t sure so i gave you one of my fav polish names, magdalena. magda, madzia for short!! that’s my irl bestie’s name so i have some good memories w that name too :”) it’s really pretty and genuinely reminds me of good things <3 you could translate it into maggie i think

@kyrjnie same case here, so i settled for milena!! also some good memories plus its really cute!! i’ve known some milenas lol and i never actually used a nickname for them since lena is a separate name 🥲

@etherealyoungk hehe since your and sky’s names r similar i didn’t want to repeat it so i chose natasza!! there’s one natasza i’ve met lol os i don’t know what they usually use for short but if guess nati maybe? it’s such a cute name (yup, it’s the same as for example natasha romanoff teehee its slavic after all)

@writingmeraki i was thinking patrycja, pati or patka for short :D imo it suits you well hehe

@icyminghao hmmm hmmm noelle, noelle… i didn’t want to go for the polish equivalent of your name, which could be something along noemi or naomi. so i decided to pick nadzieja – it literally translates into hope!! it’s such a pretty name :( very optimistic and bubbly, just like you :D

@mirxzii i was fighting my inner demons bc roxie is very similar to roksana!! so if you like it, that’s fine but! imo you give off a żaklina vibe!! it’s such a unique name just like you, obviously in a good n positive way :D

@enluv hmm i was pondering tbh and eventually chose kornelia!! when i was younger i wanted to be named that and was very pissed at my parents for not choosing it as my name >:( it’s so so pretty and the short for it AHHH!! most people use kora and it literally translates into tree bark (i think that’s the name?). there was also a very talented polish singer who used kora as her stage name (sadly she passed away but a lot of people still love her music🥹)

#i was fighting to sneak my irl name here #or did i…? #miahahaha you’ll never know #(well only one polish moot will know but shush) #it was so so fun help :( #i love sharing lil fun facts like this abt polish culture n traditions n stuff :(( #literally anon ilysm #axe’s fun corner

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 2, Episode 4

This episode picks up immediately after the previous one, Felice has fled Wilhelm's room and he's panicking...

Subtext: Not sure if he writes that to reassure Felice, or himself. Or maybe both?

Subtext: Either way, Henry totally snitched. Maybe he just told Walter, who then snitched, but no matter, the secret is out, and now everyone knows.

Subtext: Since Sara has never dated or even pursued a guy before, she's completely clueless on how it's done, and doesn't really understand sexting emojis. I use Urban Dictionary to figure out what the dang kids these days are talking about, and 🍑 means booty! You're welcome. This is an educational Tumblr after all.

Subtext: This episode is littered with hints about Stella's sexuality, and it's kinda telling that she's a lot less bothered about others seeing her make out with Fredrika.

Culture: It totally is. Sweden has imported a couple of retail holidays from the US, Valentine's is one, but it wasn't really a thing until the 90's, and it's pretty watered down compared to that. There's a lost in translation here as well, because in Sweden the day is called Alla Hjärtans Dag - All Hearts' Day, but the Hillerska tradition is called Valentindagen, which literally means Valentine's Day, which is not the same thing as the retail holiday.

Subtext: Oh look, it's the Theme™ rearing its ugly head again! Instead of examining crappy traditions, the students are just perpetuating them mindlessly. That everyone was "a bit sexist" in the 1700's is no excuse to keep the bad parts of this tradition.

Subtext: To the other girls, Marie Antoinette is seen as a positive example of the time period because of the ostentatiousness and nobility, but Sara doesn't quite make the same association, and only remembers her for being decapitated during the French Revolution.

Subtext: She lied, like a liar.

Subtext: Walter's slightly desperate strategy also applies to Wilhelm. If Simon says no, Wilhelm has no plan B.

Subtext: Oh look, the Theme™. We're on a roll here!

Subtext: The chant that Walter starts goes "Alla är lika mycket värda" in Swedish, which is sort of how the Universal Declaration of Human Rights start in its Swedish version. This egalitarian phrase pops up in tons of places and mission statements where people and organizations want to emphasize human rights, and is very familiar to most Swedes. But then the chant continues about how only very few people are allowed into Forest Ridge, making a mockery of the implied equality. Because of course these rich assholes think they have more worth than everyone else.

Subtext: Earlier I reblogged a great post by @randomsmilingpotatoes about how this season shows us easier, simpler relationship alternatives for both Wilhelm and Simon. This scene is one example of that, because it shows that if Wilhelm had been straight and going after the other rich girls at school, all the Forest Ridge boys would have celebrated him, included him in their fellowship, and cheered him on in his "conquests". Everyone knows he had a thing with Simon, but because he's a boy, and not rich, they're not celebrating Wilhelm for that.

Subtext: As usual when Simon feels hurt by Wilhelm's actions, he reactively reaches out to Marcus.

Subtext: Marcus comes to the rescue and treats Simon to a lunch that is more appropriate to their social class, they're having pizza on the hood of his car. This is another example of how a relationship with Marcus would be simpler for Simon, here he doesn't have to mind his table manners unlike at the formal luncheons at Forest Ridge where he'll always be an outsider.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Of course Marcus has a Wunderbaum air freshener hanging in the rear-view mirror, like the low-brow pleb he is. I, on the other hand, am a man of high class and refined tastes, so I have a Pusheen air freshener in my car instead. Om nom nom ice cream.

Subtext: Yes Marcus, that is exactly what Simon wants to do.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: I'm cackling with laughter at Sara's expression as she tries - and fails - to take some sexy selfies.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Whoops, can't have a horse plushie in the sexy selfie, so she quickly throws it to the floor before continuing.

Culture: They're playing Spökboll, a Swedish version of Dodgeball, and a staple of many a gym class. Also, angry, jealous Simon has great aim!

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Simon's eyes are up here, Wilhelm. Stop ogling his body.

Subtext: In Simon's defence, it was Marcus who surprised him with that kiss, it wasn't exactly mutual. Wilhelm doesn't know how much Simon is actually struggling with moving on, but Simon isn't dispelling the notion either.

Subtext: Previously, the Queen emphasized how anyone dating Wilhelm has to deal with his position, and later in this episode both Felice and Nils will say the same thing. This is the point where Wilhelm realizes that maybe it'll never work out with Simon if this is non-negotiable on his part, because Wilhelm can't stop being a prince. And since Wilhelm walks out of the argument, Simon realizes at this point that he maybe went too far, Wilhelm might actually move on after this.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Wilhelm makes a hilarious puppy face when asking Felice to forgive him. Her calling him out on his enormous selfishness was pretty satisfying though, and well earned!

Subtext: And again, yet another example of easier alternatives for Wilhelm. There's no shortage of people who would want to date him because he is a prince, unlike Simon who is doing the opposite, making that relationship much more difficult.

Culture: Traditionally, there are fourteen lines in a sonnet. Each line also needs to be in iambic pentameter, and the whole thing needs to conform to a rhyme scheme. The most well known composer of sonnets was William Shakespeare, who mostly used the ABAB CDCD EFEF GG rhyme scheme.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Vincent never misses a chance to put down the other boys, and I can't help but laugh.

Subtext: This episode really piles on the relationship alternatives, and here comes Nils with his suggestion: Keep everything on the down-low. Be gay, but discreetly. Hook up with guys, quietly. Go to private, upper-class gay parties at some exclusive ski resort in Switzerland, and meet guys who in the same situation and that can keep quiet. You don't have to be out and proud, no-one needs to know.

Lost in translation: Nils uses "gay" here, which in Swedish has a less strict meaning than the English word gay, where it usually only refers to a homosexual man. In Swedish though it can mean "not straight", so who knows how Nils identifies.

Culture: Tim Cook, the CEO of Apple, isn't high profile enough for you, Nils? But he has a point, it's rare for people in that position to be out and open about it.

Culture: He's not wrong, it would be world news. I don't think there's any immediate family in the line of succession in any European monarchy that is openly queer. However, there's currently over 30 royal kids throughout Europe that are Gen Z or younger, the odds of every single one of them being straight is pretty much zero, so there's a chance that we'll actually see this in real life soon. Fingers crossed! 🤞🤞

Cinematography: Not content with dropping hints about Stella any longer, the show implicitly tells us that she wrote the poem to Fredrika by focusing on her face and her reaction.

Subtext: ...and follows it up with more hints in her dialogue.

Subtext: August has no qualms about standing naked in front of the window, with the curtains open. He doesn't need to hide his relationship with Sara, if someone were to spy on him, he'd be celebrated by the other guys instead.

Subtext: Even though August started the episode in a great mood after having the meeting with the Queen, here the trap of royal duty begins to close around him, and he realizes that it's not all positive. If he's going to be the spare, the royal court needs to control his future as well. Ten years sure sounds like a prison sentence.

Subtext: No, he lied, like a liar.

Subtext: As if the show hasn't already used Jan-Olof as a personification of systemic homophobia, here it's made explicit. The court needs for August to be straight, otherwise their backup plan might not work either.

Subtext: For Sara, this is possibly something she's heard her dad promise before, and that didn't turn out so well.

Subtext: Sara makes up an excuse for not going with August to the ball, but the real reason is because of loyalty, she promised the girls to go with them. She's also dating her best friend's ex behind her back, which is pretty disloyal as well.

Subtext: Felice is talking about Wilhelm, but now that Sara knows that August is Wilhelm's spare and a future royal, this suddenly applies to her too.

Subtext: Felice is loyal to her friends, which is why she turned Wilhelm down.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Vincent being his usual hilarious horrible self.

Culture: In Sweden, the drinking age is 18, so only the third-year students are allowed to legally drink. But since this is an official party for the entire school, the staff can't serve alcohol to the kids, which is why a lot of them are pre-gaming in the dorms.

Subtext: For August, dressing up as a noble is something he enjoys. He's always wanted more status, and now that he's Wilhelm's spare he's got it.

Subtext: ...while Wilhelm hates it, he hates having to dress up and play the part, because it's that exact thing that is stopping him from having a relationship with Simon. But at this point he's pretty much resigned himself to his fate, so he puts on the makeup and the dress, playing the part of a real prince, crying while doing so.

Subtext: August is normally a pretty confident guy, but here we see him being insecure and anxious for the first time, because he's actually in love with Sara and is afraid of fucking up his carefully planned classy little pre-party champagne date with her.

Lost in translation: Sara writes "Vi kan inte ses mer", which means "We can't see each other any more", which is actually kind of a break-up message. But the English subtitles make it seem like she's just standing him up for this one party.

Subtext: Simon was planning to only do his performance and skip the rest of the party, because he knew Wilhelm would be there. But now that Marcus shows up, ready to go to the party for Simon's sake, he changes his mind.

Subtext: The fish do have names, it's just that Simon associates that with a very happy memory of Wilhelm, and he's clearly thinking of that here.

Culture: We need to have a small intermission here, talking about the theme for the masquerade ball, and how this relates to the show.

In the early 1700's in Sweden, despite early successes defending Sweden on the battlefield against Denmark-Norway, the young king Karl XII embarked on a disastrous campaign against Russia that ended in defeat and weakened the military. On his return to Sweden he started a new campaign against Norway, but died in battle there soon after in 1718, which pretty much led to the end of the era of the Swedish Empire that had started a hundred years earlier.

These defeats and loss of military power made the monarchy pretty unpopular among the people, so when queen Ulrika Eleonora took over the throne after her childless brother, she was forced to give up a lot of power to parliament, and no longer had the unchecked power to rule over the country. The early to mid 1700's was also the time when the Age of Enlightenment swept over Europe, and philosophers like Voltaire and Rousseau spread ideals of liberty and equality and brotherhood, which in France ultimately resulted in the bloody French Revolution at the end of the century.

But In Sweden, these ideas led to the Age of Liberty, an era marked by rationality and science and civil rights, and Sweden started progressing into a proper constitutional monarchy, ruled by law instead of the whims of the current king or queen. However, parliament became more and more unstable, and in 1772 the newly crowned king Gustav III seized power from parliament in a coup, rolled back many of the recent changes, and restored the absolute monarchy.

And that's the dude in the painting above, sitting on the left, together with his two brothers, Prince Fredrik Adolf, and Prince Karl. This time period is the theme of the ball, and all the kids are wearing similar clothes; French fashion from the late 1700's, powdered wigs, cravats, tricorne hats, pearls and all. Because of course an upper-class school like Hillerska would rather celebrate a period marked by a strong monarchy and absolute rule, rather than that egalitarian wishy-washy nonsense of the earlier era.

In further parallels to the show, Gustav III was probably gay, had gay lovers among the nobility, and might not have been the biological father of his children, due to difficulties *ahem* performing the necessary act with his spouse, Queen Sofia Magdalena.

The king was a huge supporter of culture and arts, and under his rule, Sweden got its first opera house, its first ballet company, and a proper drama theatre, all of which are still in operation today. The king even wrote several plays and a few operas himself, and spent a lot of time directing these plays as well. However, him spending more time on his hobbies than actually ruling the country, combined with certain political reforms he pushed through, made him deeply unpopular among the nobility. So unpopular in fact that several nobles got together in a conspiracy to assassinate him. The king was shot at a masquerade ball in 1792 and died of the complications two weeks later.

All the conspirators were caught, the man who pulled the trigger, Jacob Johan Anckarström, was executed for treason, and a number of co-conspirators were either jailed or exiled. One of the leading co-conspirators' name was, and I shit you not, Claes Fredrik Horn. What's August's last name in the show again?

This lesson about queer Swedish kings in history is now over, back to the show.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: An alternative to pre-gaming is to smuggle in alcohol to the party and spike your own drinks with it. Fredrika Stella hid a pocket flask in her dress.

Blink-and-you-miss-it: Stella is wearing a very anachronistic dollar-sign necklace. It does look fabulous, though!

Subtext: Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Stella doesn't dare make that gamble, and is instead settling for the unfortunately very common queer trope of secretly pining for your straight best friend.

Subtext: Throughout the entire party, Simon makes it so obvious that he's not into Marcus, and is just using him to make Wilhelm jealous.

Subtext: Marcus is pretty oblivious though, and he can't wait to get the hell out of this place, he's not comfortable, he wanted a quiet date-night at home with Simon, but this was the only way he could get Simon to spend the night with him.

Subtext: Throughout this not-really-relationship, Marcus has insisted on setting the pace, and here he does it again. He has now decided that they should have sex, which is why he showed up to this thing in the first place, and is nagging Simon to sleep at his place, while completely ignoring all the signs that Simon is on a completely different page.

Subtext: Alexander is completely in the dark here, he thinks Wilhelm and Felice was a serious thing, and he thinks that August still has feelings for Felice.

Subtext: August is pissed about being stood up by Sara, so he reverts to his usual scheming self. Planning the downfall of the king at a masquerade ball? Didn't I just write about something like that a few sections ago?

Culture: The tall thing in the middle of the table is called a Krokan in Swedish, which is more of a decorative almond cookie thing than a cake. The pink marzipan cake is called an Operatårta, which is a pink variation of the even more classic green Swedish princess cake. If you live near an IKEA, you can usually find mini versions of these in their restaurant.

Subtext: It's kinda ironic that Marcus has more in common with Wilhelm than Simon, but what does Simon and Marcus have in common, really? They clearly have completely opposite tastes.

Cinematography: Out at the party the lighting is pink and warm and romantic, but in the kitchen there's a sickly fluorescent glow instead, and it's filled with modern things that completely clash with the theme of the party. Wilhelm tried putting on a show, but as soon as Simon is out of sight, he throws away his cake and escapes the fake dressed-up environment by going into the kitchen, where we see his real feelings.

Subtext: It was at this exact moment Simon realized that he had fucked up. His attempts at making Wilhelm jealous has completely backfired, and Wilhelm is now finally letting go, just like he has been preparing himself for the entire episode.

Cinematography: Unlike the first season which featured cute moments between the two of them in almost every episode, this season started with a fakeout dream scene, and has since then withheld moments like this on purpose to build suspense.

We've been seeing both Wilhelm and Simon have intimate scenes with other characters, but there's been no chemistry, nothing in those scenes that make us want to root for those relationships.

But now it's time for the emotional payoff, and the show holds nothing back, it employs every single trick in its book to make us really feel this moment: The action is slowed way down, and all outside sounds disappear. The only thing we're hearing is their heavy breathing, just like in similar scenes in the first season, and the soundtrack switches to the [dreamy electronic music] used in the initial dream scene. The chemistry is insane, you can cut the tension with a knife, and you're all supposed to remember that this is why we're watching this show! This is why we're invested in this couple!

And then they kiss.

Can you breathe again? Do you need to take a cold shower? Alright, let's wrap this episode up. Yeah, yeah, Marcus interrupts the moment, and he sees Wilhelm, putting two and two together, who cares? They kissed! They finally kissed!

Subtext: The idea that no-one picks up on the fact that this song is totally about a lost love is hilarious, because it's so obvious to me. I have to squint and look at it sideways to imagine how it could possibly be about the school, not the other way around!

Subtext: Wilhelm is looking at Marcus at this line, because Simon got lost by trying to get together with Marcus, but just now found his way back "home" to Wilhelm again.

Subtext: He did remove the profanity and he did put Hillerska in there like the music teacher told him, so that everyone understands it's totally about the school! And not about Wilhelm, nuh-uh!

Subtext: In the same way that Simon's song is about his feelings for Wilhelm, afterwards the soundtrack switches to Beautiful Boy, which is about what Wilhelm is feeling for Simon, because in this moment he could really feel that Simon does love him after all. The way Simon is ignoring Marcus and only has eyes for Wilhelm might be a big fat hint as well.

#young royals #young royals analysis #young royals subtext #young royals season 2

[princesssmars]

i'd love just about anyone, so why was it you?

a victoria neuman x reader

your talent for singing is finally starting to take you places in the city of lights. so why did it have to introduce you to a woman who might ruin it all?

wc : 10.248

contains : fxf relationship. readers hair and skin aren't described. fluff. angst.nsfw including sex and language. the french. barely proof-read.

a/n : i cant believe there are no fics for this fine ass woman yet but i am nothing but a pioneer idk. in my daydreams this was like mafia au victoria but i literally never write or dream of those so i opted out lmao. go watch gen v. everyone always talks about how good the cover is but nonante-cinq by angele is a beautiful album so i recommend listening to that for french vibes. enjoy <3

it was the most stereotypical and overplayed song ever, but damn did you love la vie en rose.

just the concept of the song was romantic to you. to live every day like it would be magnificent, like you could know a day would be your last and look back at it and not regret a single thing. it meant looking at the world with a positivity that these days was mostly faked or artificial.

after the life you've lived, the things you've seen firsthand, you need that positive light in your life more than anything else. especially right now, as your manager is hounding you over the phone about your next gig.

now you loved your manager, nancy, you really did. she took you in and was honest when no one else would be, stood by you when no one else wanted to give you a real chance. but sometimes it felt like she didn't really believe in you. obviously, she believed you had talent, or else she would have 'left you in the dust for the rats to pick apart,' in her own words. it was almost like she couldn't fathom that what you had was real, like you didn't truly deserve all the things that were coming to you.

but as long as you were paying her, she didn't bother to speak up on it.

you were listening to her drone on and on into the speaker from your phone, holding the object up to your ear with one hand as you hold a menu to order something from the cafe waitress who's waiting beside you.

"ill have an uhhhh... le marie antoinette, and a coffee with sugar and cream please," you hand the menu to the waitress after she writes down your order, heading back into the cafe with a smile. this cafe was one of your favorites, nestled below an apartment building in one of the inner city arrondissements so you could sit outside beneath an umbrella and admire the city before you. "nancy, i don't see why i can't just...politely turn it down? it sounds like it's a glorified pin-up girl gig, le bellevilloise is offering for me to sing there exclusively for three months-"

"no, that's what im trying to tell you if you'd let me finish." you can hear nancy's telltale sigh through the phone. she had a short temper when she was stressed, something you sadly had in common, and you could hear her clicking a pen through the receiver. "this is an international gala slash fundraiser, attended by the one percent of the one percent. billionaires, senators, diplomats, everything. the event organizer asked for you specifically, so turning it down is a bad look. aka, you're doing it. go out and get a pretty dress. ill send you more details later."

the phone shut off and you let out a huff of air, crossing your right leg over your left beneath the table. once you have your meal and bite into your pastry you can't help but close your eyes at how good it tastes; the combination of the crunch of the macarons, the near-overwhelming sweetness of the cream, and the savory juice that leaks from the raspberries never gets old.

you don't know how you feel about this whole gala thing. sure its a great way to make connections and earn a fat stack of cash that will probably last you few weeks, but you've learned before that the people that you most admire, celebrities, politicians, even superheroes, can't be trusted. and being in a room full of them to perform wasn't at the top of your christmas wish list.

but like everyone else in the world, you were finding money hard to pass up on. just by the lowball nancy told you, you'd be able to comfortably pay the next month's rent and fix up your electric scooter, maybe even enough to save up for that beautiful flat you saw online with the grand windows and nice floor plan.

it'd only be a few hours of singing and kissing up to a bunch of snobs and you'd be done. easy peasy.

finding a dress wasn't to hard. your modeling connections from before you started to focus on singing gave you access to a few, good quality clearance pieces for your picking. you figure that the people you were performing for would prefer something classy and elegant, so you picked out a sleeveless black dress with black opera gloves, accessorized by a diamond necklace and earrings. one of your stylist friends, alex, who you asked to help do up your hair told you 'you're definitely gonna shag a rich man looking like this, just ask them if they have any friends for me!' and after a quick 'please don't wish that upon me' and a spritz of perfume you were ready.

the hours before you got on stage were nothing short of both nerve-racking but exhilarating. you rode in a standard taxi, your slight jitters noticed by the slightly balding man in the front. he eyes you pretty oddly when you got in the car before using you if you were a model, telling you that his daughter would like an autograph if you were. you felt slightly flustered when you had to tell him you weren't, but gave him some tips to tell his daughter if she wanted to pursue it. after around twenty minutes of driving through the city the car stops and you're escorted by a crew member into a grand building, those types you pass by and dream of getting the chance just to step into.

after that its a rush of meeting the event planner who gives you another run down of the evening and then meeting with the band members, a nice group of jazz players who you had heard about on the news for their blends of old and new methods of performing music. they played you a piece on their instruments in their dressing room, and it felt like hanging out with old friends listening to tunes as one twirled you around and the others laughed and the air felt warm and fuzzy.

later its time for your set, where you'll sing as the guests come in and take occasional breaks to save your breath and let whoever is hosting this talk. so you get up on your mini stage, make sure you look alright and you're in tune with the band, and then you do what you do best.

you've never felt better than how you do while you sing. every time you do so you tell a story, tales of success and tragedy and love and heartache. while you sing your favorite thing to do is to admire the crowd. when you were younger it gave you horrible stage fright, but as you grew up and saw just how much people loved your voice it made you confident, if not the tiniest bit narcissistic.

as you look out at the guests of tonight you see what's expected. important and powerful men donned in suits, their wives standing on their arms in glamourous gowns, you swear that you even see some fairly famous celebs in the mix, and they were all listening intently to you and your voice.

and that's when you saw her. near the back of the room with a glass of red wine in her hand, dark hair flowing over her shoulders, and darker eyes trained on you. in this profession you get used to people staring at you for hours on end, but something about this woman unnerves you slightly.

a short while later your set is over and after a round of applause the organizer tells you to enjoy yourselves, and that you're free to indulge in whatever food is left. after a brief touch-up in the dressing room and making sure you look presentable, you head out to get yourself something to eat. you keep getting stopped by people telling you how beautiful your performance was, how they'd love to get in contact with your agent to book you for future events, and your regular dose of creepy old guys hitting on you. but besides that things were going pretty well.

some servers were waking around with trays of champagne, but you figured since everything was complimentary you would treat yourself to something stronger. you head to the bar and order yourself a strong cocktail, and as soon as you finish your order a figure sits on the stool next to yours.

"get me a scotch on the rocks, thanks."

you glance at them from the corner of your eye and feel your heart beat faster when you see

it's the woman from before. from this close distance, you can admire her entirely, and god is she gorgeous. she looks so put together, not a hair out of place, and wearing a perfectly tailored suit that makes you guess she's some kind of wealthy businesswoman.

after not so secretly checking her out, she turns her body towards you and looks at you with a smile.

"im sure you already know, but you have an enchanting voice."

you look down bashfully, thinking the same about her. she speaks like she's so sure of what she's saying like there's no room for debate or argument.

"thank you. no matter if i know or not, it doesn't take much to make me a little nervous every time i perform."

the bartender brings over both of your drinks and she tilts hers to you.

"trust me, theres no need. you're nothing but a natural, one of the best singers i've ever heard."

"ah, now you're exaggerating. is there a reason you're complimenting me like you're being paid to do so?"

she shakes her head, setting down her glass of liquor with a clink. "not anything nefarious, if that's what you're thinking. just glad i get to talk to a beautifully talented woman."

jeez, she was laying it on thick. normally this was coming from some fifty-year-old man with greasy skin and weird teeth, but it felt nice coming from her. she was obviously gorgeous, leaving her body language open in case you wanted to decline and she would walk away in a moment's notice.

"im glad i get to talk to you too, miss?"

"victoria. its a pleasure to talk to you, miss y/n."

for around an hour or two the both of you sat at that bar, blocking out the fake laughs of investors and boisterous noises of people who got a little too friendly with the free champagne. she was so attentive to you. asking about what got you into singing and what brought you to paris by your non-native accent. you normally kept the finer details of your past a close-guarded secret, but you figured there couldn't come any harm from telling this attractive stranger a few things about yourself before never seeing her again.

"you're telling me at only sixteen years old, you flew to paris by yourself and made a living for yourself? you've got balls on you, sister."

"yeah yeah, but im nothing special. i just got tired of all the bullshit in the u.s., y'know? the greed, the cynicism, the-"

"superhero bullshit?"

you giggled while she smirked, observing your smile and how it made your eyes squinch.

"well i wouldn't put it like that but...superheros? really? its just, they make it so american, in a really really annoying way. i just couldn't deal with that being a reality. and where better than paris? it seems like voughts all but forgotten about it recently, thank god.”

"i understand. and i know we just met, but it does suit you. 'beautiful runaway finds passion, life, and love in the city of lights'. best cliche there is."

"and what a damn good cliche it is to be. although i haven't been that lucky on the love front."

her eyebrow raises and her nail traces around the rim of her glass.

"im sorry but i simply cant believe that. someone like you would have people lining up for a chance to talk to you, let alone date you."

you dryly chuckle before taking another long swig of your glass of champagne, dancing just on the edge of being intoxicated. you understood why everyone else was drinking this, it was sweet but strong.

"people have tried, of course. but sadly most of my escapades end in tragedy. very melodramatically. but enough about me, I'm guessing this isn't gonna go my way and you have someone waiting for you at home?"

"im offended you still think so low of me. but no, there was someone but it didn't work out. now its just me and my daughter."

god, she was a milf. if there was a god you prayed he would let you get lucky tonight.

"well, im sorry to hear it didnt work out."

"are you really?"

she looks at you with a smirk on her face.

"no, im not."

that was all she needed to ask you to come back with her to her hotel.

and not just any hotel, she was rich enough to be spending two weeks in the damn ritz. asking again what she did for a living didn't get you very far, the only hint you got being that it helped her change the world. ominous but whatever. it had to be legitimate if she was invited to that gala.

the cautious and common sense side of you is snuffed out for the night the moment she set her hand over the covered skin of your thigh in the car, the feeling of her hand on your lower back leading you through the pristine lobby of the hotel, that same hand helping you take off your dress and take you apart slowly over the rest of the night.

when you wake up the sun is peeking through the curtains, the softness of the sheets your laying on calling you back to sleep before you get up and look around.

you only got a few seconds to admire the room last night before victoria was on you, and now in the light of day you could truly take everything in. you find a note left by the woman, letting you know she had to leave temporarily for an important job thing and that she'd be back my lunch, inviting you to call up room service and enjoy the room intil then.

you were expecting for her to tell you to pack your shit up and go, so despite the oddness this was a nice surprise. besides, there was no way you were gonna pass up on ordering a five-star breakfast you didnt have to pay for.

after indulging in a meal brought by room service and finding ways to pass the time, you text your manager after she happily lets you know that your night was a success and that your payment should be cleared shortly. while you're in the middle of wondering if you should answer her query about the host wondering where you wandered off to last night, the sound of a door opening makes your head jerk towards the small entry area, victoria coming in through the doorway dressed in a tan suit and carrying a large black briefcase on her arm.

"ah, youre still here!,” she sets her bag on a glass table near the door and strides into the room, eyes connected with yours the whole time. you weren’t feeling nervous before, but under her gaze you wonder if maybe you should have taken that free meal along with some tiny soaps from the bathroom and headed back home.

“yeah, figured i’d stick around for whatever. besides, i had to stay and blame you for my manager thinking i got kidnapped.”

“i’ll make sure to apologize and send her an edible arrangement. besides, i hope to take up more of your time in the future.”

your eyes bulge so hard you’re sure you look like a moron. you cover it up by getting up to get yourself another cup of coffe from the tray the food came in on.

“well i should’ve guessed this was more than a one night stand when you allowed me to order up breakfast. but now i have to admit i’m slightly scared you’re actually plotting to traffick me.”

"trust me, that wouldn't be good for business. id just like to see you some more, if that would be alright with you.

was that an actual question? after the night you had and the way she’s been treating you, you didn’t see much of a choice except to say yes.

she tells you that a few hours later she has a flight back to america, but that she wouldn't mind spending the day with you if you're free. you agree to get a little bite to eat and it turns into a whirlwind day of showing her around the city you call your home. she has to wear giant sunglasses the whole time and have a mysterious security detail not too far behind, but you wouldn't change anything about it.

at the end of it all, she bids you goodbye in front of your taxi, admiring the cute outfit she bought for you so you wouldn't have to go home in your dress from the night prior, promising that she'll keep in touch with you once she gets settled in back a new york, jokingly telling you she'll send you a postcard. as you sit in the back of the taxi, your heart inflates a little as you take in the events of the last day. you never liked to mix business with pleasure in this way, partly because most of those business people were gross perverts and also that it could damage your career beyond repair, but with victoria you can't help but think that it was worth it.

eventually, a few days pass by, and the only calls you've gotten are from friends congratulating on what they heard was another great performance. and as nice as all the praise and the new gigs you started to get felt, the longer you heard no word back from victoria, it started to eat away at you inside.

back at your favorite cafe you sit with two of your oldest friends, jamie and chloe, as they ramble about the details of their changing lives and jobs. you don't know when you zoned out but eventually, chloe's manicured finger lightly pokes at your cheek, giggling when you make a playful motion to bite it.

"where'd you go just now? take me with you before jamie keeps talking about his new lover."

"hey!" jamie pouts, "you're just jealous because i've been regularly having passionate sex allll night long while you're still vying over your boss." you hear a shocked gasp behind him and you all turn to see an elderly couple looking at jamie like he's said the most blasphemous thing they've ever heard.

"really classy, james." you snort.

"what the hell! you're supposed to be on my side! everyone has noticed how you've been in a better mood since that gala. alex told us how they checked up on you afterwise and you showed up a day later with a new outfit and a hickey on your neck."

"that is- god, that’s so intrusive and so like them,” you rolled your eyes. you knew as soon as alex saw you that morning that they’d be gossiping to everyone about the state they saw you in. “and i don’t kiss and tell like that. at least not in public like this.”

“ok, so we’ll stop by your place tonight with some wine and talk all about it tonight. agree?”

“what? no-”

“agree!” chloe beams and shakes hands with jamie across the table, blowing you kisses before leaving her share of the bill on the table and leaving with some excuse of having to be somewhere. you glare at jamie as a warning before he gives you a kiss on the cheek and does the same. you grumble before biting into your muffin.

a few hours later you’re sitting on your soft sofa with jamie’s head in your lap and chloe on the other side, talking and laughing about old stories from your jobs. you take a sip of merlot right before jamie brings up what you were hoping they’d forgotten about by now.

“ok ok, enough chatter. seriously, chlo, you cackle like a seagull. y/n, when are you going to tell us about this mystery lover of yours? do you need another glass of wine to start talking?”

“don’t even think about pouring me another glass. look, there’s not much to say, ok? i was singing, she was staring at me from across the bar, we flirted a little, that was it!”

they stared.

“you want more?”

“how could we not? we haven’t seen you like this with anyone! not since we took you on that tourist tour on the seine!”

that…that took you for a spin. you remembered it clear as day, them tugging you along when they’d heard since you came to paris you’d been focusing on building up your image and working. it was more a joke, but the lights of the boat, the sky and the lights made you feel like you were in the most perfect moment of your life. hearing them compare that to how you looked now had a nervous feeling building in your gut.

“we spent the night together. and it was…good. really good. she let me stay while she went out, bought me a new outfit then said she’d be in touch.”

your friends are silent. way too silent. you’re afraid they’re about to laugh and judge you before they’re squealing and tackling you, pulling back when you groan after you almost spill your wine on your clothes.

"god, why are you always the lucky one? this isn't fair! at all!" chloe groans while dramatically resting her head on your shoulder, jamie still giggling as the wine clearly starts to take an effect on him. "please, please tell us what happens next before i scream."

"no thats- i mean, thats it. so far. for now." you stutter along your words as your friends' faces go blank yet again, except this time without a hint of a chuckle or smile.

"what the hell do you mean 'that's it.'? she ghosted you?" jamie gasps.

"no, she didnt ghost me-"

"sweetheart, im sorry to say this but you have been ghosted. in a really dickhead way."

"its not like that! she's a busy person with a serious job and a kid and responsibilities!"

you briefly hear chloe snicker "milf?" before you roll your eyes.

"she's gonna contact me. and even if she doesn't, maybe it was just a nice one-time thing! everyone knows I'm great at those."

jamie snickers before chloe smacks his shoulder in a second.

"why? why did you laugh?"

they share a look before she smacks his shoulder again.

"would you stop? i have pains, you know this. but y/n, we know you. we love you. but your latest stints haven't been...the most successful. or left you in the best headspaces."

"he's right, honey. remember the last girl, hannah? one of the worst situationships i've ever seen. you told us you would be alright when she broke it off and then we found you at that lousy bar at eleven in the morning..."

you start biting at your lip. there was nothing you hated more than when they told you the truth about how you could act. it wasn't your fault that all the time your relationships got messy, or that you got attached a little quickly. people didn't understand but a life like yours could be lonely. standing up on a stage and performing for people who want you to do just that and only that: sing and look like a glamourous pin-up doll. most of the time its the other performers who even bother to ask if your throat is alright after singing for hours.

so yes, sometimes you rushed into relationships. and you might have done it again in the dumbest way possible.

"i just...she let me stay after, y'know? and she came back and brought me with her again. why go through that effort just to leave me behind like trash?" your friends pouted before closing in to comfort you, rubbing your back and giving you small affirmations.

for a month you go into a rut. unless it's performing or going to the dentist for a checkup you don't leave your house. you become pretty good acquaintances with the grocery delivery boy, benny, who started panicking when he realized he forgot one of your items until you assured him it was fine. it wasn't the first time you'd grown so oddly attached to a romantic prospect, and it wasn't the first time you'd gotten hurt by it. you spend your time moping on your couch and binge-watching your favorite show for the third time when your phone buzzes from beside you.

nancy schmancy : call me.

you rolled your eyes. she could have just called you in the first place, but no. she had to be extra about it. you press the call button and don't have to wait even five seconds for her voice to ring in your ear.

"do you want to know what mister barbier just emailed me?"

"i think you already have that answer for me."

"he said, and i quote, 'tell y/n i send my best wishes. her performance last night was hauntingly beautiful, and i'm hoping it was one of her greatest acts yet.'"

"if you ask me, it sounds like i did a pretty good job."

"it sounds like he thought you were singing your damn suicide note!" she groaned, and you could hear her face scrunching from over the phone. "i don't know what is going on with you recently, and i don't want to sound insensitive, but if you can't manage to keep your work and personal life separate, even i can't help you make it far in this business. clients may say they want you to be expressive but they only mean so far. unhappy music means unhappy customers, capeche?"

"i understand, nancy. ill send a personal apology to mister barbier."

"good. ill call you soon to let you know about any new gigs. take care of yourself. seriously."

the line clicks and you toss your phone onto the couch and take another sip of sauvignon blanc from your rose-shaped wine glass. it pained you to admit it, but nancy had a point. if you kept letting yourself mope in your feelings you'd run out of people who wanted you to sing, and if the point came where you were out of gigs...you didn't even want to think about it. if you weren't singing you weren't living.

only a few hours after that call you manage to get back to normal. you go out and get your own groceries, deciding to indulge yourself and buy the ingredients for some recipe you saw online months ago. one of your clients cries at your performance, ecstatically telling you they'll be in talks with your manager to set up a stable contract. things really start to look up. two weeks later you even manage to get the number of a cute girl, elise, a tall woman with dyed hair who reached for the same vintage music box as you at an open market.

you're smiling as you look down at the messy ink on a slip of paper, the numbers and tiny smily face distracting you as you enter the hallway to your apartment. so distracted that you nearly trip over a object on the floor, looking down to see...a bouquet?

a really gorgeous bouquet you notice as you bend over to pick it up. its a collage of dusty blues and off-colored ivories, and when you brought it closer to your nose for a whiff you felt a sense of bliss. you bring it into your apartment with a skip in your step before you spot a piece of paper among the flowers, plucking it from the collection and reading it over.

upon closer inspection, you can see its a postcard, the cover a flattering shot of the statue of liberty with text that reads "love from new york city!". you try to calm your heart down at the location and the 'love' part, but you've already gotten your hopes up when you turn the card around to read the message:

xxx-xxx-xxxx

sorry for the wait. i'll make it up to you, angel.

you'd never felt so conflicted as you did in the past five seconds. half of you was vindicated that yes, this attractive woman didnt leave you high and dry and did actually have a deeper interest in you, but the other part was angry. and embarrassed that you were angry, because again, you spent less than a day with this woman, she didn't owe you anything. but also yes the hell she did.

before you could get yourself together you were harshly tapping the number into your cell, biting at your lip as the phone slowly rings.

"y/n, is that you?" echoes from the line, victorias voice sounding and running over your head like soft silk. no, no, stop it. focus.

"howd you know it was me? im sure you have other people who'd be calling you this late."

"certainly not anyone with a phone number from paris. besides, i was hoping it'd be you."

"well, i would have been flattered two weeks ago but unfortunately i dont think your words could phase me right now."

she sighs and the line goes silent. you feel bad for being catty for a few seconds before you brush it off. she's the one who played with your emotions and promised to call you but never did. she had this coming.

"im sorry, really i am. i've been busy with things at work and my daughter-"

damn it, she pulled the kid card again.

"i just...dont like being lied to. or led on. maybe its my fault for beeing too clingy-"

"no, no. dont apologize. if it means anything youve been on my mind for weeks now."

"yeah, same here. except my thoughts havent been all that nice." you laugh.

"deserved. and id like to make it up to you."

"oh yeah? let me guess, this time we'll spend two nights together?"

"close. how about two weeks. in new york."

you don't know if you should laugh. you feel like you should, so you do. but she isn't.

"you...you're being serious."

"im being serious."

what do you even say? what do you even do? of course, whatever higher power there is would make your life stable and steady for the past few months then throw this in to shake you up. you really should have been expecting it, considering...

you shake yourself back to the present. victoria is still waiting on the other line, unwilling to rush you into a decision, apparently. you'd applaud her for her chivalry if you weren't so stunned.

"victoria, come on. we've only met once, and while it was nice it was brief. now you want me to upend my life and career to jet off to america? it sounds crazy."

"you make me a bit crazy, honestly. besides, you were telling me in bed you haven't been in the states since you left, i have a feeling you miss it more than you let on."

you shuffle in your spot, reminded that you're standing in your cold-ass kitchen and you haven't changed out of the outfit you wore out today. but half of your uncomfortableness is from a feeling gnawing at your chest because she's right. at this point you can barely remember the night you left your childhood home, but you know it was rushed. you wanted to forget everything.

"i think you're also forgetting that i have a blossoming career here. are you gonna pay my definitely going to be pissed off manager her wages? plus i was supposed to be first pick for this really good gig-"

"i'll pay for everything, i promise. dont forget that i have connections. in two weeks they''ll be singing you praises across the globe."

you close your eyes and take in a breath.

"can you make my ticket first class?"

-

one thing you didnt miss about america? just how...much everything was, all the time.

your flight was quiet. victoria didnt hesitate to book you an expensive ticket, almost taking offense to your request for a nice one and scheduling you for business class, sending you a text to get lots of rest in the ultra-luxe beds on the plane. it was probably one of the best nights sleeps you'd had in months.

when you got off the plane there were two tall escorts holding a sign with your last name on it, taking the suitcases from your hands before you could say anything and leading you into a sleek black car. a voice in the back of your head starts screaming but you ignore it. for now.

the men in the car give you some basic rundowns, how they'll constantly be hovering over you during your stay for your "protection", and that they'll be taking you to settle into a hotel until victoria makes contact, and the little voice starts freaking out again and telling you that you've slept with and are fraternizing with a mob boss. at least it's more exciting than your last few flings.

the car goes silent after that, and you put in your earbuds as you watch the city go by. you weren't from new york, but you loved watching movies set in the bustling cityscape. the buildings really are humongous, and you see so many different types of people it sets your brain on a whirlwind.

you look back down at your phone after the fifth 'the seven' advertisement in one block.

yet again you're led into a clearly extremely expensive hotel, breezing through reception before you are led to a luxuriant hotel room, the bodyguards ignoring you as you giggle and flop onto the bed, waving them off when they tell you they'll be posted outside.

the sheets feel heavenly on your skin, and with the soft sunshine from the window beaming down on you and the gentle hustle and bustle of new york outside, you think you could fall asleep in a minute. but, begrudgingly, you peel yourself form the bed and open your suitcase to start putting your clothes away before taking a quick shower in the giant bathtub.

just as you exit the shower and wrap your body in a towel, your phone starts ringing and as soon as you read the 'v' in the contact name you push answer and bring it to your ear.

"hello? vic?"

"hey, hon. eager to talk to me?"

"you called me. and 'hon'? really? we've moved to petnames already?"

"figured id start making up for those weeks with no contact. and id like to do so again tonight. i wanna bring you somewhere."

your mouth quirks up in a smile as you re-adjust the towel around your body, the phone nearly slipping from its quick placement between your phone and ear, "id really like that. i hope its out to dinner, i didnt care to eat any of the plane food."

“yes, it’s to dinner. but its up to you if you want it to be fancy or casual. i know its tacky but there’s this pretty cute french place near where i live...”

“that vaguely sounds like an invitation to your place, but ill let it slide. are you gonna pick me up or are your special agents going to escort me everywhere for the next few weeks?”

“special agents? what agents?”

a bead of water drips from your neck down your back and it feels like the tip of a knife. a pressure builds in the back of your throat and your fingers grip the fabric of your towel. “what…that’s a joke, right?”

her laughter rings in your ear and you are seconds away from hanging up the call.

“sorry, sorry. i sometimes have a weird sense of humor. you'll get used to it.”

“i doubt it.”

“and i'm hopeful. i'll let you go so you can get ready, i'll be by in under an hour.”

you hang up after a sweet goodbye and gently sit on the toilet. your brain is rushing to catch up after the conversation like your body goes on autopilot when you hear victoria's voice. its terrifying and its thrilling. and you don't know why a part of you likes the feeling.

after you brush your teeth, do some quick skincare, debate over shaving just in case, and spend twenty minutes picking out a cute outfit, you finally hear the gentle knocking on the door while you're double-checking over the content of your purse.

rushing to open the door, you're greeted with the sight of a smiling victoria, her hands tucked into the pants of her clearly expensive pinstriped pantsuit. you're admiring the look of her hair tucked back into a ponytail when she's reaching forward and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"you look perfect. come on, i made us a reservation."

and it turned out to be a perfect night. she did end up taking you to the french place, allowing you to order whatever you wanted. that place was weirdly empty, only a handful of other patrons inside. you were pleased to see that the waitress was french herself, having a small chat about the customs and foods she missed while she praised the authenticity of the food at the restaurant.

only a day and you had already forgotten how forward the people back home could be, because the waitress throws a subtle look at victoria and compliments you on finding such an attractive woman. when she leaves vic just smiles.

“ok, id say at this point we’re doing pretty good with the communication thing, right?” you ask, taking a sip of the pricey wine your date ordered.

“yeah, id say that.”

you finger the rim of your glass, the nerves getting to you before you ask your question. "i want you to tell me what your job is. your actual job, not some vague ass title. you have security following gus around, so i feel like i should know."

"no, no, you're right. i just didnt wanna scare you off. or have you think differently of me once i told you." she sighs, thumbing the napkins on the table. "i work in the government. i'm a congresswoman, to be exact."

you don't doubt she's a politician for a second, because she shows no hint of nervousness at your lack of emotion.

"are you...a good congresswoman?"

"i don't really know how to answer that." she laughs.

"i'm sorry. i knew you were important enough to be at that gala, but a politician is...tricky."

she reaches across the table and lays her hand palm up, smiling when you rest yours on top of it. "look, i get it. i should have told you sooner but please understand why i didn't. i wanted to get to know you as normally as possible, without all of the press and politics in the way."

"normally as possible, huh? that includes sleeping together on the first night?"

you're trying to show your acceptance of the situation with your humor, but you can tell victoria can sense your uneasiness at the situation. here you were thinking you had found some under-the-radar millionaire to dote on you and instead, you'd roped in someone whose job was entirely in the public eye that could be put in danger at the flip of a switch.

"how about we finish up and take this back to my place? i'll tell you everything that you wanna know about me. no matter how personal."

you stare into her eyes for a few seconds and decide that she looks genuine, getting confirmation that her daughter is staying with a friend before ending your meal and following her to her place.

for the amount of money she's ready to spend on you, you're surprised to see that victoria lives in a chic but quaint townhome only a twenty-minute walk from the restaurant. she gently takes off your coat and instructs you to sit with her on the couch, pressing on a remote to turn on her fireplace.

after a few hours and two more glasses of wine, victoria had opened up to you about nearly everything in her life. the mysterious death of her birth family, being adopted by a man who helped pushed her to go into a political career, her polite but loveless marriage with her ex. she even shows you a picture of zoe that she has in her wallet, taking the chance to gush over her daughter. she seems like such a sweet girl.

maybe it's the wine or maybe it's the way vic is opening up to you so freely, but you decide to tell her more about your past. how you always wondered why you barely stuggled moving to another continent at such a young age, or the fact that you dont even remeber why you had the drive to leave your parents home in the first place. you didnt even remember the last words you said to each other.

and throughout it all she's nothing if not attentive, she doesnt ask questions unless you give her permission too, keeping her eyes on you and gently placing her hand over yours.

you feel a turning in your stomach when she moves a stray hand of hair behind your ear. you told yourself to try taking things slow this time, but your body is starting to feel fuzzy and shes looking at you like she wants to devour you.

she decides to indulge you and gently brushes her lips against yours, smiling at the way your breath staggers. your head moves forwards to finaly get her to kiss you but she jerks her head back.

"i want you to tell me what to do."

god, your stomach feels hot. this is new, but a really arousing style of new. the last time you both slept together she had taken a careful but unwavering charge, unraveling you with a steady hand a sweet smile.

"cmon just...please?"

"no. tell me what you want me to do."

you sigh and bite at your lip. "i want you to lay me down and fuck me. right now."

so she laid you down and she did. there were no words to describe how much you enjoyed that night on her couch, the way she could read your body like a book and brought you to ecstasy again and again and again...

and when you wake up a soft blanket is draped over your body, a brekfast of coffee and some crepes set in front of you.

the days after are a whirlwind. discreetly as possible victoria takes you on a tour of new york city, to more expensive restaurants and hidden jewels that most tourists skipped over.

youre lounging in your hotel room when you decide to inform your friends of how your trip is going. while slightly hesitant they seemed more than happy that you were enjoying yourself with someone who took a genuine interest in you.

until you told them her job.

"my love, are you insane? a politician?"

"an american politician?" chloe gasps, continuing off of jamies shock.

"hey, im american too dont forget!"

"of course you are, but please, you understand why this is not good, no?"

"you know how fishy they are, especially with all the supe business going on. that place is getting more dangerous by the day, and i dont think you should be seeing someone whos contirbuting to that."

it pained you to admit it but jamie had a point. the three of you would always laugh in amused horror at how badly things were going on in your birth country, and the politics...it was less than pleasant.

not to mention the supe business. every corner of the world had to deal with the annoyance that was vought and their "products", even france. but so far you'd just had to deal with a few perverted looks from traveling supers and talks of some stupid theme park a few miles out of the city. meanwhile, it seemed like every day a new superhero was being introduced to the American public. it unnerved you.

"i understand. i appreciate both of you looking out for me. trust me, i'll be on my guard for now on." you mumble, picking at the material of your sleeve.

"of course, songbird. we'll call again soon."

the call ends and drop your phone on the nightstand. you look at the eiffel tower cutout in your phone case and your heart aches.

the next morning you're eating a a breakfast of coffee and fruit crepes when your phone rings, dragging your atttention away from the trashy dating show you were watching on the bedroom's tv. when you see nancy's name you hesitantly answer the call.

"nance? is everything alright?"

"everything is great. i'm just here to check in about your next gig."

"my next- nance, im on vacation. please tell you didnt forget and booked me for a job when im across the ocean."

"no, im not that stupid, hon." she sighs. "i didnt even arrange this job, victoria did. im just the messenger."

you blink once. then twice. you remember vic saying something about helping you with a job but you honestly just thought that was bullshit to get her to come stay with you.

(or get in your pants. but you don’t think you’d be too upset about that now.)

“ok. thank you, nancy. tell me the details.”

it’s a lot more extravagant than you expected. victorias friend, an actual senator, was holding a fundraising event for some government program he and vic were both involved in. nancy wasn’t told what the program was, but that you would have to go through a security debrief before being told you'd be given a team to help you prepare. and picking from a selected closet of dresses. fun.

you ignore the feeling of nervousness that’s building up in your gut. because while all of your gigs were important, they were never this important. you push it down as you call victoria and thank her endlessly, when you tell your friends the minimum amount that you can tell them, and when victoria picks you up from outside your hotel twelve hours before the event even starts.

she pressed a small kiss to your hand, laughing at the grumpy and tired mumble you let out when you sit in the car seat. it only passes once she gives you a coffee she picked up, the caffeine waking you up and putting a smile on your face.

the content feeling turns into shock when you enter victorias' place and see zoe, vic throwing a short explanation of “busy babysitter” over her shoulder as she heads into the kitchen.

its a bit awkward at first, sitting on one couch as she plays on a black nintendo switch on the other. it helps when you ask her about whatever she’s playing, the girl diving into a rant about the farm game she’s playing and how she’s trying to catch a certain type of fish.

victoria comes back with a tray of breakfast for the three of you before asking her daughter how school is going, how her friends are, etc. its nice to get a glimpse into victories private life during the morning, the close bond she has with her daughter. you notice some tension but decide not to bring it up.

the morning goes by too quickly, zoe being picked up to be dropped off at a friend's house after giving you a sweet goodbye and you getting rushed upstairs as the team comes to the townhome to help you prepare. its a nice change, having other people doll you up instead of having to worry about trying to do everything correctly and by yourself. and its a perk you don't have to spend your own money to do it.

the team members are nice but punctual, finishing your hair and makeup in record time with not a second wasted. you barely get time to notice yourself in the mirror before you're ushered into a gorgeous gown, soft fabrics and a chic and elegant style.

when your finished you’re finally allowed to observe yourself while your transportation and is prepared, and it feels like you’re looking at a dream version of yourself.

as you admire yourself in the mirror vic comes up next to you, clearly enjoying herself as her eyes slowly drift up and down your body.

“you look…ethereal.” she whispers, pressing a small kiss to your cheek after you turn to smile at her.

“only because of you. i don’t know how i could ever make this up to you, vic. this is just…”

“trust me, you’ve already done enough.”

while you knew there would be some press at the event, you didn't expect over two dozen paparazzi to quickly start flashing their cameras in your direction as soon as you got out of your ride. questions about who you were wearing, the relationship you had with vic, etcetera etcetera. you would've buckled from the sudden pressure if it weren't for victoria’s steady hand on your waist, the press of her arm through her red pantsuit.

the venue is downright insane, so grand you start to wonder if you're in one of those gilded age mansions you used to read about in new york magazines. climbing pillars and art on the ceiling of the main hall, which you don't get to admire since you’re yet again whisked away to get ready.

after a few more touch ups you aren’t afforded a minute to prepare, guided to the edge of the performance area. the sinking feeling is back in your stomach. the biggest moment of your life and you feel like you’re going to be sick.

the lights dim and you glide onto the stage, able to see the shadows of the guests faces from the flickering table lights. it’s eerie, the amount of them staring up at you with eyes you can’t even see.

you were given a set list a few days prior, only a couple of songs for the payment you would apparently receive after this. the songs piqued your interest, a collection of classical melancholic pieces from around the fifties. vic told you her friend was a vintage nut, but you didn't know why he chose these for you to perform when the event seemed to have an uplifting aura.

either way it felt…different, singing this time. the spotlight was on you and you’ve never felt as beautiful as you did in this moment. everyone was watching you, so hooked on the melodies escaping your body that you could see the emotions brining some people to the edge of their seats.

you don’t let it show but you grow a bit anxious at the sight of supers in their uniforms in the crowd. you don’t see anyone from the seven, but you do notice a woman you recognized from some commercial about climate change and earth preservation, the green of her dress and the nature motifs in her outfit give you a clue as to what her power was.

just when you feel yourself about to slip, dangerously close to hitting a note at a weird pitch, you see victoria, getting deja vu at the sight of her staring at you from the bar like the first night you met. she's looking at you like she's never doubted you for a second, like you're an angel sent from above that's blessed her life.

you hold her gaze when you sing. noticing the soft smile on her face when you sing a lyric about how the feelings in your heart feel so intense you fear you're going insane.

when the first song ends the lights come back on and you're met with a polite yet thunderous applause, the smile on your face so wide your cheeks start to hurt. the presenter comes back on stage, praising your performance with a swipe at his eyes before telling the guests that the host would be on shortly, and after he gives a short speech you'd be back to sing some more. with a gentle nod and wave, you step off the stage.

you feel like you're walking on air, with no doubt that was one of your best performances yet. your emotions got a little intense there but nothing you couldn't manage, and everyone seemed to like it anyway.

you're able to send a quick text and a picture to jamie and chloe before you hear the sound of the door to your quaint dressing room open, not able to turn around before you feel hands around your waist and plush lips on the side of your neck, the sight of victoria wrapped around you in the mirror making butterflies swarm in your stomach.

"i take it you liked my singing?"

"like doesn't even begin to cover it," she mumbles into your neck, raising her head slightly to be able to hold eye contact through the mirror. "i'm so lucky i found you, y'know that?"

you playfully brush her off, telling her you have to freshen up for some mingling before you get back on stage. she gladly helps you with your makeup, and while you weren't expecting her to be so touchy tonight you definitely aren't complaining, especially when her hand starts to drift closer to the space between your legs. it takes an embarrassing amount of mental strength to deny her, promising you'll continue once you go back to her place.

once you're finished getting ready she leads you back out to the hall, introducing you to numerous business people, politicians, celebrities, etc. you try not to fangirl when you meet a singer whose songs you've been obsessed with lately and when she asks you to perform at her cousins wedding. victoria just smirks when she leads you away and you let out a tiny squeal under your breath.

once the networking is done you're able to take the time to sit down and eat some of the catered food, almost moaning at the tastes of the food. you sometimes forget just how good food could be in the states, and these rich people pulled out all the stops. you try not to eat too quickly or impolitely as victoria talks with her tablemates, some people from her job apparently. after the first introductions and praises they gave you you mentally tapped out of the situation. she luckily covers for you when they question your mood, laughing when she tells them you've had a long day of being treated like a singing barbie doll.

everyone in the room quiets down when the hos taakes the stage and starts his speech. he introduces himself as robert stendham, and you feel a little embarrassed that this man gave you the chance to sing here and you didn't even know his name. you're thinking about how odd it is that you weren't introduced before this when he mentions something about the program and you perk up.

"...extend a personal thank you to general jameson for finding the time to escape his duties to fly in and be here with us tonight, and a special thanks to director neuman for helping me with this project and finding the beautifully talented y/n to perform for us tonight."

there was a brief few seconds of applause, victoria looking around and giving out smiles while you wondered what the hell she was the director of.

"as you can see, we have a few supers with us tonight. people like hazelwood, whose efforts against climate change have lead to over a dozen organizations plating millions of trees and clearing millions of pounds of trash for the ocean. because that's what supers are supposed to do-protect us. not act like degenerates who get to do what they want because of their abilities."

your eyebrow twitches, sensing the slight anti-supe propaganda from the end of his speech. well, not anti every supe, just the ones who act like gods among men, which you could understand. but you still felt an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach. you feel vic's palm rest over the top of your hand under the table.

"which is why im incredibly honored that director and congresswoman neuman has extended a hand to me to invest in the federal bureau of superhuman affairs, and to further extend that hand to you to help participate in this monumental institution..."

everything is a fog and your brain taps out once he starts talking about what this burerua does, how they closely monitor supes and jail the ones who've caused public harm. your head feels hot and your chest feels cold, and you can't stop your body from going on auto-pilot and excusing yourself to the bathroom before finding some balcony on the higher floor.

the cold air of new york shocks your body back into normalcy, but the pounding in your head persists. it feels like a panic attack ut so much worse, like your fight or flight has been activated without anything even happening. had you rushed into all of this? chasing a girl and a dream like you were a teenager again?

yet again the door opens behind you and someone comes to stand next to you, able to tell who it is by the scent of brown sugar and the glimpse of dark hair blowing with the slight breeze.

"you alright? mr. brandon from the tech startup was asking about you, tried to make me invest in some room light plant grower hybrid-"

"why did you bring me here?"

you cut her off and the air is quiet, save for the sounds of cars and the city and the wind. it's weird, standing in a tense silence like this with her.

"how are you feeling?" she whispers .

"are you- " you turn, nearly giving yourself whiplash with the speed at which you turn to look at her. the look on her face, like she's just observing you and how you're reacting. it only upsets you more. "are you being serious?"

"yes, i am. tell me."

"no, answer my question first. why are you avoiding it?"

she sighs, brushing a few strands of hair away from her face before reaching to grab your hand, which you hesitantly let her hold.

"as you heard, im part of a buereau that monitors supherhumans, keeping track of them, making sure they cant use their powers for harm. so far we've only had to deal with supes here in the states. until one day, this couple comes in that believe their daughter has used her powers on them."

she reaches for something in her pocket and your grip tightens. she pulls out a polaroid and holds the picture up for you to see. you feel like you're going to vomit when you see you, smiling, standing with your parents in a backyard.

"what...what is this? how'd you get this?"

"the couple gave me this picture, and told me how weird the least few years have been. friends and family asking where their daughter went, how she was doing, a daughter they didnt even remeber having."

you bring a hand up to your head, hopelessly trying to dissipate the splitting headache that's forming.

"but then they said the memories started coming back. glimpses of a child running in the grass, birthday parties, graduations, talent shows-"

"stop, please just stop." you gasp, hunching over as good as you can with the restrictions of your gown. it doesn't even feel like the world is just spinning, it feels like its being played in some celestial game of pool. "so what, you're saying...you're saying i did that? to my parents?"

"yes," she reaches for the side of your face, guiding you to look up at her. "and you can do so much more. you already have."

this can't be happening.

"why do you think people react so emotionally to your singing? you think its just because you're amazing? that's not even half of it."

your breathing is picking up again.

flashes of memories start appearing in your vision. so many happy times with your parents that you forgot, friends that you left behind. how your parents didn't support your half-thought-out plan to become a singer, how you made them forget. made yourself forget.

"i don't want you to think i did all of this just for what i want. i didn't. i care about you, and i want you to help me. but you need to trust me."

the blood is rushing back and from your head, and you think about how weird her eyes look against the backdrop of the city before you pass out.

finally. FINALLY. ong i wrote like 1k in the past day because i said just get this shit over with but its done! 5 months later! hope you enjoyed :)

#the boys #the boys x reader #the boys series #the boys smut #gen v #gen v x reader #victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman #victoria x reader #victoria neuman fluff #victoria neuman angst #victoria neuman smut

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Random Chaotic Quotes from my Reincarnation AU Drabbles #2

Again, feel free to add any you think of in the comments below.

“Imagine if we had gone, it would have been ICONIC. I can already see the news lines, ‘Encanto sisters spotted at Glasgow’s Willy Wonka disaster’.” - Luisa

“I don’t care how old she is, somebody had to tell that old hag that she’s gonna fucking kill that bonsai tree!” - Isabela

“Please, Lola! I don’t speak meme! I don’t know what a ‘yeet’ is!” - Mirabel

“Isabela, I want you to be careful, okay? Not because I’m concerned about you, but because medical care isn’t free here and I’m not paying a single penny to fix whatever stupid thing you’ve done to yourself.” - Dolores

“I finally met a Sephora ten-year-old today. I just shoved that fucker straight into a display unit face-first.” - Isabela

“Why are the ladies wearing black? None of them are widows.” - Mirabel, about the cast

“If you keep shouting at me, Dolores, I’m gonna storm onto the local golf course and unleash my inner Troy Bolton!” - Luisa

“And now Isabela’s in the river with the dogs…” - Dolores

“I don’t care what anyone says, Legoland is leagues better than Disneyland. Fight me on it. You won’t win because I’m right and, well, I have more muscle than Disney has cash.” - Luisa

“Now, remember, sis: the cast are more scared of you, than you are of them.” - Isabela, to Mirabel

“Goodbye, you little shits.” - Dolores, in the supermarket intercom

“I thought I just liked cleaning, but my doctor tells me it’s a trauma response, so now I’m worried that I don’t like anything at all and it’s just my trauma speaking. I may think I like embroidery, but perhaps I just like the idea that I could cover my problems away with embellishments. I may think I like history, but perhaps I just relate to Marie Antoinette because I also had my head chopped off. Who knows!” - Mirabel

#encanto #incorrect encanto quotes #encanto reincarnation au #isabela madrigal #mirabel madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal

[stevetonyweekly]

Stevetony Weekly - February 18 - Week 7

Hello, my loves, I’m home! I’m home and I read things and I’m here to share it with you. Be sure to leave your fic authors comments and kudos as you read! 

~*~ 

Two roads diverged by RurouniHime

His eyes haven’t adjusted and it’s too dark to see Steve’s expression. 

In which there is a farm, a porch at night, and two kinds of grief.

Daddy by orphan_account

Tony's brow quirked up, but his expression simultaneously went crestfallen. "What would you do to pay me back if you had the means?"

Steve suddenly envisioned himself on his knees for Tony, sucking his cock with passion.

He blushed. "Uh--I don't know, I guess-"

"No. Uh, uh, don't lie to me. You're blushing. I can see the mischief in your eyes. Come on, what would you do for Daddy to pay him back for all the nice things he bought you?"

If Steve was blushing before, he was sure his cheeks were bright red now. God, this was so embarrassing. Was he really so transparent?

Taking a shuddering breath, Steve went to his knees. He turned his head to make sure the door was still locked, then swallowed his pride. He would be swallowing something else in a second.

"God, Steve--I didn't think--Jesus. Have you done this before? You don't--you don't have to prostitute yourself for me or anything, I was just teasing. Holy Christ-"

"Tony," Steve said firmly, looking into Tony's eyes, "I want this. Would you give me that...Daddy?"

Let Loose On Me by thepretender501

It all starts innocently enough. Well, as innocent as you can get when you’re Tony Stark and you’ve got a lap full of squirming Captain America riding you like—okay, scratch that, it doesn’t start innocently at all.

Spoiled Rotten by kehinki

It doesn't take a whole lot of convincing to get Steve to call him 'daddy'.

Let Them Eat Cake by BladeoftheNebula

‘Alright Marie Antoinette, let’s talk about why people without trust funds can’t always be going around dropping hundreds of dollars on a fancy fucking cake’

Steve is a popular baking vlogger who spends his days making vintage recipes and inspiring people to bake.

Until he's sent a video of a certain tech heir disrespecting the fine art of cake making and calls him out.

Say My Name by citsiurtlanu

Steve reminds Tony that there's more to him than the war his weapons were used in.

i would always be yours by tinystark616

When Tony wakes up in the hospital after the snap, he finds out about two things: One, he's lost his right arm, and two, Steve wants to stay with him.

New Awakenings by scottxlogan

After the battle against Thanos the world faces the end of Tony Stark, but Steve Rogers can't and won't accept that fate. When Steve takes matters into his own hands by revealing a secret part of himself to save Tony, what will the future hold in store for them?

Raindrops Like Roses by Auggusst for iseult1124

When the power in their apartment goes out on a rainy day, Steve and Tony reminisce about their chance meeting a few years ago and show each other a little TLC on the couch. Who knew power outages could be so romantic and sexy?

My piece written for this year's Marvel Trumps Hate event!

The Jar by Sineala

The Avengers are ridiculously competitive people, and what starts out as a silly late-night team discussion quickly becomes a contest: their names. Not the code names -- the nicknames. Who can go the longest without using them? They pledge to spend a week not nicknaming each other, and they'll pay up every time they mess up. This hits Tony the hardest, and not just financially. Tony's got a lot of nicknames for everyone, but most of all for Steve -- and when Tony can't use the names he's already got, the names he uses reveal feelings he had no idea he had.

The New (New) Normal by copperbadge

Tony has a thing about germs. Steve understands it a lot better after seeing him sick. Though he could still use some help understanding why he's so annoyed that Rhodey's the one who got to bring Tony soup....

Initiative by affectionatehomosexual (premiumjimin) for pitchernum1

Tony’d always been told that there were two types of people in the world: people that drink with you and people that make you wanna drink.

Steve Rogers falls undeniably into the second category.

*Tony's a photographer who lets something slip during a shoot. It's a surprisingly effective catalyst for a pretty stellar relationship*

out of the cold by meidui

“No,” Steve begs again, his voice grinding in Tony’s ears. “Don’t let them, Tony!”

He’s breaking Tony’s heart, the way he’s desperately seeking an ally in him, delirious from his fever and begging to be spared from some suffering, but they have done everything else they could and none of it has made a dent in this murderous fever. There’s a reason they waited until they exhausted every single one of their other options before bringing up an ice bath: they all knew what this would do to Steve. They knew what they would be putting him through, but this is the last and only resort. It’s this or risk letting the next eight hours take his life.

Wilt Thou Exchange by twentysomething 

"The first time Steve meets Toni is about a week after he wakes up."

Steve Rogers' Life Is Not A Romance Movie (He Wouldn't Get The References, Anyway) by someonelsesheart

Steve hasn't always had this ridiculous crush on Tony Stark.

(Or, the one where Steve is his polite old self and doesn't really hate Tony Stark (unfortunately), Tony is a child progidy and apparently a cab driver now, too, and high school is still high school, even when you are the son of a billionaire.)

The More Things Change by cookinguptales 

Steve's not entirely sure how seduction works nowadays, but he's learned from the best.

Stop: Hammertime! by youcancallmearrow

When some asshole (*cough*Hammer*cough) puts out a hit on Tony, what are three translators, two security strategists and a Photoshop expert going to do about it?

Turns out, a whole hell of a lot.

The Corruption of Captain America by the Villain Tony Stark by ladililn

Iron Man paused. “Oh my god. You thought I was a robot.”

“No, I—” Steve felt his face flushing. “I…considered the possibility,” he admitted.

“You thought I was a robot who’s been hitting on you.”

“Is that really so crazy?” Steve felt an inexplicable need to defend himself. “In the forties, I fought a Nazi with a skull for a head.”

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

[krirebr]

Match time! 😁 Match the type of event to a babe:

night club with pulsing beat and strobe lights

masquerade ball

night bonfire and rituals festivities out in the open (like Beltane, or equinox celebrations)

modern fancy gala

with: Steve, Ransom, Curtis, Ari

Ooooh, I love this.

Night club + Ransom: This one was the easiest for me. He just feels so at home at a booth in the VIP section getting bottle service. He goes with his obnoxious trust fund baby friends and never leaves the table but doesn't hesitate to entertain the women that come to him. Wait! I just got a flash of you working as a bottle service girl, his favorite, and starting up a sugar baby arrangement with him. He's enthusiastic about it, 'cause you had become his only reason for continuing to go to the club. Now he gets to stay home but still gets to see you.

Masquerade ball + Ari: I was going back and forth between him and Steve for this one, but I like the period piece/fantasy feel for Ari here. You're a princess whose father has finally arranged an engagement for you to Prince Ari. You've never met him before and are terrified by what waits for you when he visits in a few days. So you and your friends sneak out of the palace to go to a masquerade in the surrounding city. (Think the masquerade scene in Marie Antoinette.) You meet a tall, handsome man in a sun mask and have an incredible night with him, devastated to have to say goodbye in the wee hours of the morning. But when Ari walks into the throne room the next day, there sure is something familiar about him...

Night bonfire/rituals + Curtis: There's just something so primal about him, so it's too easy to see you both standing naked under the moon, sending Mother Nature your thanks for a bountiful harvest or sending up your hopes for the new season in the smoke of the fire. And maybe the ground isn't the only thing that's fertile this year 😏

Modern fancy gala + Steve: Steve in a tux just screams charity gala. It's your first one of these, representing your company at their table and you're feeling very out of place and not sure how to act. You're having a mini panic attack while waiting for a drink at the bar when an incredibly dashing Steve walks up to say hello and sensing your nerves, offers to show you the ropes. You have a very lovely evening. It's not til he excuses himself to give the keynote speech, that you realize he's the incredibly eligible, powerful CEO that's sponsoring tonight's event.

Thanks for playing with me Eva!! 💜

#ask kris #biteofcherry #match game #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ari levinson #ari levison x reader #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #asks are always welcome

[sigyns-drafts]

Hi, again! Luv what you did for my request with Marie Antoinette! Reader! I love how you characterised her and how she interacted with others, notably Jack!

Hope it wouldn't be too much of a bother for me to request Amphitrite! Reader with Poseidon, sort of a re-imagining of their marriage story where Amphitrite is an elegant, diplomatic queen, and yet literally the only thing keeping Poseidon from drowning humanity entirely/not having the seas in war with other gods?

I imagine Trite and him originally met during the Titanomachy, where she was sided with her dad Oceanus, and later met again in the actual marriage myth. I'd also especially love to request the part in the myth where Poseidon couldn't rizz her up himself, so he sent every sea creature to do it for him, and she goes, not because they were convincing, but because she wanted him to do it himself.

I wish you the best, take care of yourself, and keep doing what you do! 😊

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for even suggesting it in the first place! It was a blast to give her some characteristics with what you gave me and put her next to different characters. Jack was the cherry on top~ 🤭

You already know the answer~ I'd gladly write about your wonderful Amphitrite! I wish you the same back, take care of yourself and as always, love your art work and I hope you enjoy✨💕

A Love Forged in the Depths 🌊❤+💙

➩ In the shimmering depths of the vast sea, where the currents weave tales of old, resided the regal domain of Poseidon, the tempestuous god of the oceans. Yet, beneath the tumultuous waves, there awaited a woman upon Poseidons arrival home.

It was Amphitrite, the elegant queen whose grace would temper with Poseidon's wrath as it often did! Soon enough bringing back the couple back down memories lane.

➩ Reader type: Amphitrite!reader x Poseidon

⚠: A bunch of romantic fluff and teasing!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue upon the waters, Amphitrite awaited Poseidon's return to their coral-laden palace.

Her dark skin glistened under the iridescent glow, and her red eyes held depths as unfathomable as the ocean itself. With each graceful movement of her dark mermaid tail, she exuded a sense of regality and power.

As Poseidon emerged from the depths, his trident gleaming with a fierce light, Amphitrite approached him with a gentle yet resolute demeanor.

"Welcome home, my lord," she greeted, her voice a melody that calmed even the wildest of storms.

"I trust your ventures were successful~?"

Poseidon's gaze softened as he beheld his queen, the one who held sway over his heart like no other woman.

"Indeed, they were, my darling Amphitrite." he replied, his voice filled with genuine feelings of happiness to be with his love once more, but he was hiding something behind those dark blue eyes.

"But, the affairs of the sea are ever tumultuous, and my patience wears thin on these mortals.."

Amphitrite raises an eyebrow at his words, confused on what the mortals could've possibly done now. She placed a comforting hand on Poseidon's arm, her touch soothing the storm within him.

"I understand your frustrations, my love.." she said, her words a balm to his troubled spirit.

"But please remember, it is through rational thinking and restraint from your anger that we maintain balance in the world right?"

Poseidon grunted, his gaze drifting towards the distant horizon where mortals sailed upon the waves.

"Humanity tests my patience at every turn.." he growled, his grip tightening on his trident.

"They pollute my waters, plunder my depths, and show no respect for the power I wield."

Amphitrite nodded understandingly, her eyes never leaving his.

"Yes, they may be reckless and foolish at times," she conceded. "But they are also capable of great beauty and ingenuity. We must guide them, not punish them."

Poseidon sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly under Amphitrite's gentle persuasion.

"You speak wisdom, my queen. I'll think about this..." he admitted, his voice softer now.

"Perhaps I have been too quick to anger, too eager to unleash the fury of the sea.."

Amphitrite smirked, her radiant presence illuminating the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

"Exactly, together, we can achieve great things, my love~" Amphitrite said, her words a promise of unity and strength.

Poseidon took Amphitrite's hand in his own, the roughness of his touch softened by the tenderness in his eyes. He pulls her closer to himself, grabbing her waist.

"You are the anchor that holds me steady~" he confessed, chuckling under his breath. "Remember the day we first met?"

Amphitrite blushed and couldn't help but grin, biting her lip at the excitement Poseidon was expressing.

"Who do you take me for my king, of course I would remember such a embarrassing day upon your behalf, hehe~"

Once upon a time, amidst the chaos of the Titanomachy, where the Greek gods waged war against their predecessors.

Poseidon had first laid eyes upon Amphitrite here, as Oceanus's daughter and not his wife.

She fought alongside her father, her strength matched only by her elegance and diplomatic prowess.

Intrigued by her beauty and resilience, Poseidon sought to win her affections.

Yet, despite his attempts to charm her, Amphitrite remained steadfast, unmoved by his advances especially after this war.

Remaining loyal to her people and father! Unwilling to concede defeat, Poseidon devised a plan on a way to win her heart somehow.

Even if it took sending forth every sea creature under his command, from the majestic whales, to the playful dolphins.

Poseidon tasked them with persuading Amphitrite to accept his courtship. But unbeknownst to him, Amphitrite saw through his ruse, recognizing his reluctance to approach her directly.

It caused the woman great amusement that he wanted her so badly, but didn't dare set a foot before her.

One fateful day, as the ocean stirred with anticipation, Amphitrite decided to visit Poseidons domain and confronted him.

"Poseidon, god of the sea, why do you hide behind your creations?"

Poseidon, taken aback by her boldness to just enter so uncalled for caused his heart to skip a beat of panic. As he gazed upon her with newfound admiration.

"If your heart truly yearns for mine, then let your words be your own, not whispered through the mouths of creatures~"

The woman winks at him, about to turn away and leave, but Poseidon saw his chance and took it bravely!

"Amphitrite, daughter of Oceanus please wait! Your grace surpasses that of the ocean's depths, your wisdom and words are the most impressive things I've heard..!"

Amphitrite stops in her tracks, her red eyes shimmering with curiosity at what came next. A smug grin formed on her lips.

"Oh, is that so Poseidon~?"

"Yes! It is true..I have sought to win your favor through the sea's creatures, fearing rejection. But now, I stand before you vulnerable and sincere, asking for your hand in marriage.."

Finally the god of the ocean had said it, he had admitted to what had been so clear as running water, his true feelings and intentions for sending every creature in the sea to catch Amphitrite's attention.

"Poseidon," she replied, her voice soft yet resolute.

"Your sincerity brings me more enjoyment than any gesture orchestrated by you to win my heart. I accept your proposal, not because it was convincing but that you finally said it to my face, handsome~"

And so, beneath the starlit canopy of the ocean's depths, Poseidon and Amphitrite soon exchanged vows of love for each other, their union a testament to the enduring power of genuine affection and mutual respect.

As husband and wife, they were now both rulers of the sea and all its creatures, the same ones Poseidon had used to try winning Amphitrite's affection!

#writing #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #romantic fluff #romantic #reader x canon #ror poseidon #snv poseidon #amphitrite x poseidon #amphitrite #teasing #im feeling romantical #🥴