#there seems to be a link between doubles and triples

[myfictionaldreams]

I can’t lose you // Mafia!Stucky x fem!reader

Summary: Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers but for years, you'd never had to experience this. Until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger?

Requested by: @tinkerbellasstuff​ (thank you so much for the request!)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, dom/sub, hostage, threats of violence, angst, fluff, hurt, size difference, double penetration, protective steve/bucky, anal and vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, daddy kink, praise kink, begging, subspace, pet names, not beta read

Word: 5.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“You know, this feels more like a treat for the both of you rather than me”, you explained watching Steve and Bucky skim through the dresses on the rack around the store and pile their favourites in front of you. Dating the leader of the Rogers mafia had its perks, Steve knowing all the right people had managed to book out the entire store for you to look and purchase anything that you wanted, something he liked to do on occasions to treat you. However, you always hated spending his money, the situation almost feeling wasteful so the shopping experience usually felt like you were being Bucky or Steve’s shadow as they searched through the clothes that they thought you would like or want you to wear which you much preferred to do. Especially as they both had a very good eye for picking out the most beautiful clothing, even though they seemed to be eye-watering expensive.

“If you bite that lip one more time hot mama, I’m going to take it out myself” Bucky muttered as he placed a suspiciously short black dress in front of you, not taking his eyes off of yours as he backed away, disappearing into the mass of clothing rails. Releasing the lip that you hadn’t realised was between your teeth as you shook your head, looking at the article of clothing now in your hands.

“You know, I might just let him”, Steve then whispered into your ear, making you jump not having noticed that he was close. It was now his turn to pass you a deep maroon silk dress. Both of your cheeks warmed at his words, something Steve seemed to notice as he leaned to peck your cheek and smile against your skin. “I love how easy it is to make your flush, baby”.

“I’m going to try some on!” you declared, standing quickly, holding the two dresses tightly in your hand, brushing past the Blonde mafia boss, ignoring his chuckle at your reactions as you moved into the empty changing rooms.

Breezing into one of the cubicles and shutting the curtain behind you, a few seconds passed as you decided which dress to try on first before finally going for the maroon dress. As you were about to ease the jumper up and over your head, a noise was heard on the other side of the curtain, stopping your movements. Smiling to yourself whilst simultaneously rolling your eyes, you shouted, “Steve, I’ve not even tried the first dress on yet, give me some time”-.

All words were cut off as the curtain was yanked to the side, revealing a deranged-looking man that you recognised from a few weeks ago. Not even daring to breathe as your heart pounded violently in your chest, staring at the man that you couldn’t quite remember his name, not that you could even remember your own when you noticed the gun being lifted to point directly at your forehead.

When you and Steve first started dating, he had spent hours going over how to react in different scenarios whether it was kidnap, being tied to a chair or being held at gunpoint but you’d never been in this sort of situation before, Steve and Bucky having never left your side for you to be in any danger. Trying your hardest not to allow fear to take over you completely, thinking hard over what Steve had taught you. The first was to show you were no threat, most of Steve’s enemies were triple the size of you and rather than trying to fight them off, you’d have to make them feel like they were in control so, you raised your shaking hands palms up, showing your surrender. Next was that you must follow their orders if and when necessary until help arrives, try and find out as much information as possible from the threat but as you looked into the desperate man's wild eyes, you didn’t want to risk upsetting him anymore by asking for his name. So you stayed in silence, as you heard Steve and Bucky talking close by, internally begging that you both stayed in there, you couldn’t even think about either of the boys being hurt but luck wasn’t on your side as he waved the gun in the direction of the boys, a silent command for you to walk ahead.

Exiting the changing cubicle, still facing the man, you took slow, steady steps backwards toward the main area of the store. “Turn around”, your heart dropped at his words, hating the fact that you had to have your back to the man with the gun.

Doing as commanded, you held back a scream as his arm was suddenly around your throat, not fully restricting your airwards but enough to make you struggle and grip his forearm to try and ease the tension as the cold tip of the gun was now pressed against your temple. He now led the way with his body behind yours, pushing you forward and entering the store once more. Your eyes desperately flicked between Steve and Bucky who both had their backs towards the two of you, still idly looking at clothes.

“Hands up!” the stranger shouted suddenly, making you jump, breath coming in shuddering bursts as you watched both of your boyfriends instinctively reached for their own guns in the holster attached to their chests but stopping when quickly when they turned and saw your predicament.

“Steve” you pleaded, hoping your voice wouldn’t annoy the man behind you but he didn’t say anything, only pushed the gun further into your temple causing a slight whimper to come out of your lips. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” the man demanded at Steve and Bucky’s movements. “Do you want me to blow a hole in her head, is that it? Both of you slowly, take out your guns and slide them over to me and if I hear either of your safety being clicked I can guarantee I will shoot her before you shoot me”. Both men stopped their movements instantly taking a second to contemplate the man's threats before slowly undoing the strap holding their guns to the belts and then sliding them across the floor until they knocked into your feet.

Now it had been a few minutes, and you had contemplated trying to disarm the man exactly how you’d been taught to do but now with the added pressure of both potentially being in the firing line and your increasing panic attack trembling beneath the surface, you decided against it. Instead, you tried to tug on his arm away from your neck as his rising anger only meant that he was cutting off your airway more.

Steve managed to catch your eye, seemingly not even blinking, almost like he was trying to communicate with you and for the most part, it helped you to steady your breathing. Your trust in Steve and Bucky was much more than the fear you held over the man holding you hostage but with their weapons now at your feet and they couldn't approach any closer, only the negative outcomes were consuming your thoughts entirely.

“Paul, don’t be stupid, point the gun somewhere else”, Steve’s voice remained calm as he addressed the man behind you, his name now sparking the memory of seeing him only two weeks ago in the boy's office, he looked just as angry then as he did now. Even as your body continued to tremble, you tried to hold eye contact with Steve’s unnaturally calm face, a clear comparison to Bucky’s when you had briefly glanced over and seen unfathomable rage, his body shaking slightly.

“Oh, should I? Did you do the same when my brother pleaded for his life a month ago?” Paul’s snarled, voice breaking slightly as if he was on the verge of tears. The hand holding the gun began to tremble with his heightening emotions but then he seemed to study himself, pressing it in further into your temple causing both pressure and pain to leave you gasping and knees buckling.

Steve and Bucky both shifted forward at hearing you in pain but Paul continued to shout, “stop! Hands-on your head, both of you. Did you really think you could get away with killing my brother? That there would be no repercussions for your actions, Rogers?”

You weren’t sure when but you’d begun to cry, wetness pooling down your cheeks, a sight that seemed to make Bucky flinch before he decided to speak up. “What do you think you’re going to achieve doing all this Paul? You kill her then what? We let you leave? Do you really think you’re going to get out of this situation without being skinned alive”. His voice was dripped with venom as he spoke and you could feel Paul shake slightly at the threat before he righted himself, standing to his full height which only caused you to stand on your tip toes from his grip around your throat.

“Maybe you’re right Barnes, I won’t get out of this alive, but what makes you so certain that you will?”

“No!” One moment the gun was pressed against your head and the next it was being pointed at Bucky and it was almost on instinct that you released your hold on his arm and reached for the gun, pulling it back to point at you. It was like a reflex, not fully comprehending what you’d done but judging by the dark looks in Steve and Bucky’s eyes, they weren’t happy with it.

What shocked you next was a chuckle coming from the man holding you, his mouth moving to your ear which only caused more rage in Steve’s eyes. “Do you really want to die for these murderers?” he whispered.

“Yes”, you answered honestly, without a moment's hesitation. Pauls's arm tightened around your throat with more strength, cutting off any chance of you breathing in. Struggling against his hold, eyes now closing as the overwhelming pressure increased in your head, white noise pounding in your ears.

“Have it your way then”, Paul continued, the cool tip of the gun once again pressing in against your head, if you’d opened your eyes you would have noticed Steve and Bucky make a move to step forward when the deafening bang of a gun firing echoed throughout the store.

Almost in an instant, the arm around your neck loosens so that you were able to suck in the deepest breath you’d ever experienced but it only caused you to cough violently, trying desperately to take more and more breaths as your knees gave way. A warm body caught you before were able to collide with the floor and Steve’s urgent voice was whispering in your ear as he was able to drag you across the store.

In the rush and panic of the store being raided by other members of Steve’s gang, you were able to spot Paul lifeless on the floor with blood pouring from the fatal wound in his head but Steve was quick to cup your cheeks and turn you away from the scene. “That’s it baby keep taking nice long breaths for me, in and out. Are you injured anywhere else? Are you ok?” You’d never heard Steve fully lose control like this before, no matter the situation he was always level-headed but he seemed just as close to having a panic attack as you were.

As he spoke, he continued to move you throughout the Store until the sun was beaming down on you and the car door was being opened for him to place you into the backseat. Steve’s thumbs brushed away the tears that had stained your cheek, you were able to respond. “Steve, I’m ok, I think, I’m-I’m fine” your fingers rubbed against your neck, something Steve was quick to notice.

His fingers lingered on the sore spot before leaning his face closer and fiercely kissing your forehead, taking a deep breath in, almost like he was trying to memorise your smell before swiftly leaving and shutting the car door behind him and walking back into the shop. Muffled, you were able to hear him shout to Bucky, “take her home, now!”

The brunette was out of the store and into the driver's side of the car in only a few strides, engine on and the store was far in the rear-view mirror. In the shock of suddenly driving off without Steve, your tears had ceased and concern had replaced fearful feelings as Bucky drove harshly through traffic, definitely going over the speed liit as he swerved around cars. “Bucky please slow down, we should have waited for Steve.”

“Put your seatbelt on”, was his only response, blue eyes unblinking as he stared ahead at the road. You couldn’t sit in the back and not be close to him, not after everything that had occurred so made the decision to quickly climb into the front of the car and into the passenger side seat.

“You need to put your seatbelt on as well”, you tried to tell him, fumbling with shaking fingers to clip in your own. Bucky didn’t say a single word as he kept one hand on the wheel, and the other helped to click your seatbelt before quickly doing his own. The two of you didn’t speak another word, even though you wanted to talk, tell him how much you love him, how scared you were, how thankful you are to him and Steve and the gang but every time your mouth opened, all thoughts dispersed.

Finally giving up on the words, you watched him carefully. How painfully his jaw was clenched, the metal hand that was holding the steering wheel so violently you could see the material was beginning to bend and he was sat so still you were sure for a moment that he wasn’t breathing.

So lost in watching Bucky, you’d not noticed that the two of you had arrived at the gates of your home until the car stopped directly outside of the front door. The silence was almost deafening as you swallowed thickly but Bucky’s thoughts seemed to be somewhere far away. Deciding to make the first step, you unclipped both your and Bucky’s seat belt.

“Don’t you ever point the gun at yourself and risk your life for me ever again, do you understand?” His voice was only just above a whisper, cold and full of passion as his eyes finally snapped to look at yours.

You weren’t sure what to respond with, on instinct wanting to disagree, having made the same decision a thousand times more but with the panic and hurt in his eyes, you weren’t sure you could have this conversation right now.

“Yes, I understand”.

“Good… because I can’t lose you” Bucky’s voice cracked as well as your heart as his eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

“I can’t lose you either”, you couldn’t hold back your emotions as warm tears escaped the corner of your eyes as the two of you reached for one another. Bucky opened his arms as you climbed across the car until you were straddling his lap, the steering wheel uncomfortable against your back but you didn’t care as he held you close to his chest. Finally, you released the pent-up emotions, sobbing into his shirt as he comforted you with soft whispers and delicate strokes of his fingers through your hair.

Eventually, your cries calmed and a soft buzz hummed through your veins, muscles relaxing into his hold, the warmth from his body consuming you thoroughly. “It’s ok, I’ve got you, no one’s going to hurt you now, I’m never letting you go”, Bucky continued to whisper comforts that made you feel safe.

A knock at the car window had Bucky shifting but you paid no attention to it, wanting to only be with Bucky, unsure of even how much time had passed. The sound of the door opening filled the silence, and then Steve’s voice was floating to your ears. “Is she asleep?”

“No I don’t think so, are you sweetheart?” Bucky asked before kissing the side of your head.

“I’m awake, sir” you were able to mumble, feeling even fuzzier, mouth dry and head spinning slightly. “I feel funny”.

“Lets’s get you inside baby” Steve encouraged, working with Bucky to ease you from the car and once more half-carrying you into your home.

Promptly you found yourself being placed onto the couch, your body melting into the cushions. Steve knelt before you as Bucky walked into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water, handing it to you which you gladly drank. The two men waited patiently for you to finish drinking before Steve took your hand.

“What happened today, I can promise will never happen again.” Bucky took your other hand as he sat next to you on the couch, looking at you just as intently as Steve was.

“I know-”

“Please let me finish. What happened today, I don’t know how that little weasel managed to sneak his way into the facility or get as close to you as he was able to hurt you. But please know, you will never be in harm's way ever again. If another person so much as looks at you wrong, I promise their lives will be quickly ended. In fact, I’m slightly annoyed that Sam ended that fucker as quickly as he had, he deserved to feel everything I had planned for him” Steve spat with venom before taking a quick steadying breath before continuing.

“I love you, Bucky loves you and I know you love us. Nothing like this will happen again, can you forgive us?”

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive, you couldn’t have helped what happened. I knew what loving you both would be like, the danger I wanted to put myself in and I’d never blame you, I love you and nothing can change that.” The truth spilt from your lips in a blur, every word the truth and you wish there was a way that you could prove this more but you found yourself completely exhausted.

You tried to smile at the men who seemed still just as tense but as you caught each of their eyes with your own, they seemed to relax, squeezing your hands before Steve smiled back. “How are you feeling now? Does your neck still hurt?” 

“Slightly, but mostly when I touch it or move my head, otherwise I’m ok, still feeling a little fuzzy” you admitted.

Bucky nodded your head, stroking a hand now your cheek to cup your face tenderly. “Did he injure anywhere else?”

“No, nowhere else”.

“Do you mind if we check?” Steve asked seriously, a slight crease appearing between his brows. 

“Yes, of course, but you have nothing to worry about”.

“I still just want to be sure”. Each man sat beside you, your head turning in each direction causing you to wince at the movement. “Look forward Doll, we’ve got you”.

You did as instructed, trying to peak from the corner of your eyes as Steve and Bucky moved with the same idea in mind, inspecting a hand each in their lap before kissing each of your fingers delicately when they deemed there was no injury. Next, they turned your arms, looking at every inch of skin and then leaving a trail of kisses as they moved along the limbs. The tenderness in their movements had you shivering in anticipation, especially as they reached the shoulders and their heavy gaze was felt on your burning face.

Steve leaned forward first, the touch of his lips against your cheeks causing your eyes to shut in calmness. Then as Bucky’s lips connected with your other cheek, did Steve lean in to kiss you deeply, all emotions from the day, the love, everything went into the kiss and it had you moaning and almost wanting to cry and all too quickly he was pulling back and Bucky was taking his place, the metal hand stroking a stray of hair behind your ear.

As Bucky too moved back, you made to follow but the brunette paused your movements, his chuckle deep in his chest, “we still need to check the rest of your body first, mama”.

Steve's fingers gripped the edge of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving in just a simple lacy white bra that displayed your already perked nipples beneath. Their eyes, followed by their lips moved to your shoulders, causing a shiver to spark down your spine and goosebumps to litter your skin.

Steve moved back first as he reached the edge of your bra, “stand up for us baby”. He held up his hand for you to hold as you stood, turning you slightly so your front was facing Steve and your back was facing Bucky who was too now standing. Your breaths were coming out in short bursts as you tried to not look down as Steve knelt before you, hands resting on your hips, searching your body before leaning in a licking a single strip from your navel to the band of your bra.

Bucky was similarly doing the same except when he reached the lacy material, with one hand unclipped the clasps at the back, allowing for the material to slip from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to Steve who hungrily disposed of the material and seal his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. You let out an ungodly moan, back arching to be closer to Steve, hands lifting to hold onto his blonde hair but Bucky eased his own hands around you, tugging lightly on your wrists until they were in his grasp and behind your back.

Steve then moved to the other nipple, his hand squeezing the now wet and perky breast as his tongue teased the other, the sensations and pleasure pulsing to between your legs. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on his touch, the warmth and comfort that it gave you, as well as Bucky was still tenderly kissing up and down your spine, holding your hands together. 

“Steve…” sighing as you spoke his name, feeling the need increasing in your cunt, thighs rubbing together to try and ease any sort of tension. With a wet pop, Steve unattached himself from your nipple, leaving it slightly swollen from his mouth's action and once more he continued his visual and physical journey down your body.

Helping you out of your jeans and underwear in one swift motion, dragging them down your legs, Bucky helping to keep you upright as the material was removed from each leg, both socks going with it until you were in the complete nude before them both.

Once again, Steve and Bucky worked in tandem with one another. As Steve lifted one leg up to cradle, he inspected your feet, calf and thigh, kissing and licking as he moved, and Bucky did the same with the leg you were trying to stand on. Both of them doing so was a difficult feat to achieve, especially as both reached your sensitive thighs that had your knee buckling therefore Bucky had to keep you upright but never faltered in his lips journey.

Your skin was now hot to the touch, especially as you could feel the cool air around you grazing over your damp upper thighs from where your desire had spread over and as Steve and Bucky reached the top of their individual thigh, you were already moaning for whatever their next moves were.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel Bucky smiling against your arse cheek as he leaned in to peck each one quickly and then standing to his full height, standing so his clothed chest was against your naked back, arms trapped in the small space as both his arms encircled around your waist.

You were about to ask what he had planned but his actions proved the answer for this as he lifted you slightly, allowing your legs to drape over Steve’s shoulders and his face to delve between your legs, right to that spot you were so desperate for him to search. Instinctively your thighs clenched around his face as his thick tongue pushed between your folds, but he seemed to like being squeezed from the deep moan he purred.

Steve didn’t miss a single drip of liquid as he licked up and down your slit, slipping his tongue into your already clenching hole as far as he could reach before pulling out and moving up to your early awaiting clit that he greedily sucked into his warm mouth. You were completely overwhelmed by his wonderful mouth, a continuous stream of moans spilling from your mouth.

“Do you like that Doll? Do you like it when he fucks you with his tongue?” Bucky asked, his face had dropped so that his lips were ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Yes, sir” you quickly agreed, wishing that your arms were free so that you could run it through Steve’s blonde hair. Bucky chuckled at your response, kissing your temple and continuing to hold you up for Steve to continue pleasuring you.

As Steve’s tongue swirled around your clit at an increased pace, you could feel the sudden tightening in your abdomen, a sensation that was only increasing with each stroke of Steve’s. “I’m going to cum daddy”, you announced, not being able to hold back the nickname anymore, needing them to know just how far gone you truly were in the pleasure.

The mafia leader seemed to like it if the smile against your pussy was anything to go by and the next moment, you felt the tip of two of his fingers breach your cunt, stretching it out. Once again, the duo worked together, Bucky began whispering encouragements in your ear, “cum for us Doll, that’s it mama, cum all over his face”, and Steve began curling his fingers against that spot within that had you seeing stars as his mouth sucked harshly on your clit.

It only took another breath and the overwhelming sensation consumed your entire body, back arching, legs twitching and cunt convulsing and his fingers as you orgasmed hard. The pleasure was almost overwhelming as you tried to regain your normal breathing pattern.

“I want you both” you declared after a moment, wanting nothing more at that moment than to feel you all connected and to feel full of their cocks. Steve eased a few inches away from your cunt, looking up at you which you could now see as you glanced down with half-lidded eyes.

“I think we should take it easy today, we don’t want to put you under too much pressure today, you need to rest”.

You weren’t able to hold back to annoyed sigh, even if you had tried to. “Well you should have thought about that before checking me for marks, I want you both, please daddy”.

“Sassy Girl”, Bucky whispered against your cheek as he still held you up.

“Fine, but give it some time, we need to prep you first” Steve finally agreed but you were still being impatient.

“No, I want to feel it, I know I can take it, I just want to feel you both now and it was only this morning that you’d both fucked me anyway. I promise I can take it” you tried to reason with him, sticking out your lower lip for better effect as he looked up at you from his position still on his knees.

Steve and Bucky seemed to have a silent conversation with each other, something that you’d decided was taking way too long as you wiggled your hips, knocking slightly into Steve’s face. “Fine, you win baby” he finally relented, standing up and dropping your shaky legs to the floor.

Thankfully Bucky was still holding up most of your weight as you tried to hide your shit-eating grin as Steve began undressing, your eyes dropping to the throbbing cock, already dripping to be inside of you. Steve let out a deep chortle, your eyes looking up at his face to see his smile curved into a beautiful smirk as he held out his arms for you.

“Come here, sweetheart”, the mafia leader helped to grasp your hips, lifting you up until your legs were wrapped around his waist, hands that were once trapped behind your back were now gripping the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Your lips were instantly connected with his, desperately moving and pressing against his soft ones, tongue even slipping between. You were utterly breathless and only pulled back to gasp as the tip of his cock pressed against your awaiting hole, pushing in slowly, making sure to give you time to adjust to his size.

“Fuck you feel so good” he praised in your ear, teeth then nibbling the soft lobe as you moaned and tried to refrain from dropping your head back as your neck still ached slightly.

From behind you, Bucky swiftly removed his clothes, moving his hand up and down his shaft a few times as he watched you hungrily from behind, waiting for the moment Steve glanced at him and gave a swift nod and then stepped forward so his chest was once more touching your back, one hand now resting on your hip and the other at the base of his cock.

“Remember Doll, if you want me to stop use the colour code, ok? We’ll take this nice and easy hot mama.”

Bucky's voice was calm as he talked you through his motions as he aimed his cock towards your asshole. Both of the mens body heats were helping your body to relax as you closed your eyes, leaning your head delicately against Steve’s shoulders, taking a few deep breaths and trying not to tense around Steve’s cock that was still inside of your cunt as Bucky began to penetrate you.

Without the fucking session from the morning, you wouldn’t have been able to take him without any prepping as both men were significantly sized. Even with the morning, the stretch of Bucky’s cock still had you squeezing your eyes tightly, trying to remain relaxed so that it wouldn’t hurt as inch after inch delved deeper until his full cock was twitching inside, matching Steve’s.

You almost felt beyond full, your muscles between your legs stretching to the max and you were thankful that they were so tentative of your feelings, letting you take your time to adjust, taking a few deep breaths before attempting to raise your hips slightly, indicating that you were ready.

Bucky and Steve then took complete control so that all you had to do was hold onto Steve and melt into their bodies as they began slowly rolling their hips, working together to drag across every single one of your nerves that had you screaming out in pleasure.

They began slowly, making sure to still not cause you any harm but before long you couldn’t take the reserved pace. “Please go faster, I need you to fuck me harder daddies, please!”

You sounded desperate and that’s because you were, wanting to feel the rough slaps of their hips, the way their fingers clenched harder into your skin as they started to lose control of their own restraints. You needed this thought, needing to forget about the day's events, about how close you were to losing them both.

The orgasms you were experiencing were enough to make you forget your own name, only being able to scream there as your cunt and asshole tightened and contracted almost consistently around them but they didn’t relent their movements.

Maybe you were lost in subspace, the surroundings have become fuzzy, or maybe you were just cock drunk but at some point, tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes.

“I can’t lose either of you” you sobbed, head tipping back against Bucky, not caring about the pain you experienced in your neck from the movement.

Both men stopped fucking you which was the exact opposite of what you wanted as you desperately moaned, “please don’t stop!”

They did as instructed, almost trying to move closer, kissing along your shoulder and face, catching any tears that had slipped out as they put as much emotion into their fucking as you were into your moaning.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, ever! I love you” Steve grunted as his hot cum coated your pussy, dripping out and onto the floor as he sloppy slowed down his thrusting.

Bucky continued to fuck you hard, your cunt already spasming through another orgasm, you weren't even sure what number it was anymore.

“I’m going to always protect you mama, don’t forget that” Bucky grunted, his balls tightening to his body as you were able to moan out ‘i love you’ as he found his own release, his cum dripping down and missing with Steve’s.

All three of you were breathing heavily, sweating glistening your naked bodies as you kept your eyes closed. Bucky and Steve had pulled out at one point but continued to hold you up between them.

“You with us baby?” Steve asked, kissing your forehead, not caring about the sweat.

“Daddy…” you mumbled, sounding half asleep.

Bucky smiled into your shoulder, kissing it once before taking a step back, “don’t worry Doll, we’re going to look after you” he promised, watching as Steve began to carry you up to the bedroom, planning to get you washed and into bed. Even if tomorrow the full extent of the day's events hits you, you knew that Steve and Bucky would be there for you no matter what.

#mafia au #steve rogers smut #stucky smut #steve rogers one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes one shot #steve rogers fanfic #marvel smut #marvel one shot #stucky one shot #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #mine*

[differentpcrson]

Written in 3rd person. Summary ; club nights, first time meeting Word count ; 706. Mason Mount x Reader. Disclaimer ; I am in no way connected too or know Mason Mount personally. I write for fun only.

Mason had approached her slowly, unsure if by the time he had made his way to her that she would have moved to find the company she arrived with. Her beauty had Mason intrigued from the minute his eyes had passed her; he had to double take, even triple take before deciding that he at least needed to briefly speak to her before the night ended. It took him a while, and a couple more drinks for him to find the courage to walk in her direction. (Your name) was sitting at a booth alone, sitting right on the edge of the wall bench, not even facing the table and eyes fixated on something in the distance. Mason cleared his throat once he got to the opposite side of her and then parted his lips to speak, “hey sorry, you mind?” He motioned towards the bench opposite her and that's when he noticed her head turning, her soft light hues connecting with his for the first time. She gave him goosebumps already, a feeling that Mason couldn’t describe. “Yeah, sure,” (Your name) spoke over the loud music, her head quick to turn back to focus on what had her attention in the first place. Mason wondered if it was worth starting a conversation with her as she was so occupied, but then he decided there was no harm in trying. He had nothing to lose at least. “Tell me.. What are you doing here alone?” She looked back to the male sitting opposite her, realising in that moment that he must have spotted her a while back because she hadn’t moved from that seat for at least the last fifteen, twenty minutes. She hadn't had anybody approach her either, until that point.  “I’m not alone..” She began, though Mason saw a shift in her body as soon as she spoke, eyes even narrowing down for a moment before eyes diverted back into the far distance. “My date is just an asshole.” Her straight to the point honesty amused Mason and he couldn’t help but snort out a chuckle before allowing his gaze to follow hers. He realised then it was what he presumed her date that she was glaring at. “I’m glad you said it.. I noticed you both walk in earlier and ever since you’ve basically been alone. I could have used some similar words but you put it perfectly.” The girl glanced back towards him and flicked him an amused grin back. She knew her worth, knew this guy obviously wasn't the one for her, but still she couldn’t quite get over the way he had just taken her out for dinner and now was in a club flirting with two other girls around him now near the dancefloor. Silence formed between them, and Mason knew he wanted to continue speaking to this girl, he was just unsure with how to start a conversation without sounding like some strange guy who had been watching her throughout the night. He hoped she might have started a conversation, but he was in no luck as she seemed to silence completely. How are you? Sounded a little strange and all so much more random. You look nice. Somewhat the same. So noticing her glass was empty against the table, he knew that would have been a good starting point, “Can I buy you a drink?” She glanced towards him for a moment as she shook her head and began to speak, “No it fine, I got-” glancing down mid sentence and noticing that her glass was in fact empty, she hesitated and re-thought about the question. (Your name) arrived at the club with a date, and for respect to him, she felt that it was unfair for another guy to take her attention, but at the same time, her date didn’t seem to care so why should she? (Your name) searched up to give Mason eye contact, but he was already standing, arm out as if he had already expected her to accept his offer. With this time a light smile, she gathered her bag and stood also, moving closer to him ever so slightly so that she could link her arm through his. “Sure.. you can buy me a drink.”

#mason mount fanfiction #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount blurb #mason mount x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #let me know if people like this and would want more or anything

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly... (don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the unholy week nears its end, and today we venture into the murky waters of dubious consent — what monsters await us there? ∼

∼ day six brings us our beloved villain ♥ Captain Phasma ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

tags: #rape/non-con elements #tentacle rape #tentacles #tentacle sex #tentacle monsters #dubious consent #extremely dubious consent #face-fucking #triple penetration #double penetration #anal sex #power dynamics #power struggle #choking #fainting #dom/sub #forced submission #rape #multiple orgasms #kink!week

easy prey (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Captain Phasma sometimes manages to catch a breath in-between missions. Sometimes, she has a night off, and sometimes, on such nights, she lets herself blow off some steam — always, she does it by picking up a pretty thing, usually at a bar, and having some fun with her. She has a type she usually goes for — she prefers a pretty, human(oid) female that appreciates a firm hand. 

She isn’t too picky, however, after weeks spent aboard a stuffy spaceship. 

She’d never been to this bar — nor this planet. She doesn’t know much about this part of the galaxy, nor does she care to learn. Her plan for tonight is to hang out by the bar, get reasonably tipsy, and see if there’s a pretty girl she could have a good time with.

It doesn’t take long to spot her. 

She’s gorgeous. Long, wavy hair down to her waist, dark, glowing skin so smooth it doesn’t look real, full lips that are made to appear ever plumper with glittery lipgloss, broad shoulders, skimpy bright blue dress that looks almost neon against her skin tone and barely covers anything. She’s just the right balance between muscular and soft. She dances alone with a drink in hand, paying no attention to the swarm of people trying to approach her and talk to her. She firmly pushes away anyone who tries to grind against her or gets too handsy. 

Phasma needs to have her. 

She waits until the girl gets bored of dancing and goes to the bar to buy another drink. The girl leans on the bar as she waits, her bare, toned back partially turned to Phasma.

“Not interested in a good time?” Phasma asks.

The girl turns towards her. Phasma is immediately struck by how unnaturally — how beautifully — blue her eyes are. If Phasma knew — or cared — about particular colour shades, she’d call them ultramarine blue. They are accentuated by glittery eyeshadow, and seem to shine in a way that’s just slightly unnerving and uncanny, indicating she might not be quite human, despite appearing so — but Phasma doesn’t care to analyse her genealogy. The girl seems human enough for activities that Phasma has in mind.

The girl smiles. “Not with those desperate bastards over there, that’s for sure.”

Her teeth are pearly white and shiny, and perhaps a bit sharper than Phasma had expected — but her voice is smooth, melodious and lilting, and Phasma forgets all about the teeth. She wants to hear more of that voice, wants to make this girl moan her name — or, preferably, her title. 

“If you’re tired of desperate bastards groping you on the dance floor, you could sit here with me — have a nice chat.”

The girl eyes Phasma up and down, lingering on her muscular arms before looking her in the eye and smiling even brighter. Her blue eyes and her sharp teeth seem to shine in the dim light — the visual is a bit eerie. Phasma feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she doesn’t think anything of it, distracted by lust and the pleasant fuzziness from all the alcohol she’d already had. 

“And I suppose you’ll only grope me if I ask nicely?” the girl asks, sitting down on the stool next to Phasma.

“Ah, see? We already understand each other very well.” 

The girl laughs. Her laugh is like a babbling brook, bright and melodious.

“I might ask you that later — but first, I’d like a name.”

Phasma isn’t keen on giving her actual name to one-night-stands. 

“You may call me Captain,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“And are you a captain?” the girl asks with an amused glint in her eye, shifting on her chair. 

It is in that moment her drink arrives. Before the girl can react, Phasma pulls out a crisp bill from her pocket and pays for the drink. She never breaks eye contact. 

“I am.”

The girl takes a sip of her drink — some sort of sugary concoction that’s probably stronger than it looks. She nibbles on the pink, neon straw. “I could believe that.”

“And what should I call you?” Phasma asks.

The girl grins mischievously, straw in her mouth. “You could call me Lucy, but you could also call me something else, if you prefer.”

“Lucy is a lovely name.”

There is no way in hell her name is Lucy — but then again, Phasma’s name isn’t exactly Captain, either. She can understand the desire to keep one’s identity private, and she can appreciate a girl with a brain — even if the dumb ones are way easier to bed. 

This one will probably be way more fun, though.

“So, Captain,” she purrs, raising her hand to caress Phasma’s bicep. “Wanna continue this pleasant conversation somewhere more private?”

Phasma is a bit taken aback by how eager the girl seems to be all of a sudden, especially since she seemed so disinterested in physical contact on the dance floor. Usually it takes a bit more flirting, and usually Phasma is the one to suggest going somewhere quieter — no girl wants to seem easy, after all. 

Phasma doesn’t need to be asked twice, though.

She towers over Lucy as they walk through the crowd, enjoying how much smaller the girl is compared to her. She puts her hand on the small of her back — her skin is smooth like marble, but way hotter. 

As soon as they exit the bar and step onto the dark alleyway, Phasma pins her against the wall and kisses her. Lucy nips on her lip with her sharp teeth and draws blood. Phasma enjoys it. 

Easy prey, she thinks as they head towards Lucy’s residence. 

It never crosses her mind that Lucy might be thinking the same thing. 

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊��̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Something about Lucy isn’t quite right — and Phasma, unfortunately, only becomes aware of that once they’re making out on Lucy’s couch. 

Phasma is straddling her, pinning her wrists down with one hand, and the other one she runs over her throat before lightly squeezing. Lucy whimpers. 

“Like being choked like a filthy slut, hm?” Phasma asks. Lucy shakes her head. “No? You’re out of luck then, pretty girl, because I enjoy that very much.”

She squeezes again — not too hard, but enough to let her know who’s in charge. She feels herself getting wet at the sight of Lucy squirming underneath her. The straps of her skimpy dress slid down and one of her nipples is exposed — it’s dark and pretty and perfect. Phasma can’t wait to put it in her mouth. Oh, she’ll love fucking this pretty thing. 

Lucy is noticeably smaller than her, and a head shorter — she shouldn’t be able to throw Phasma off of her like she weighs nothing — nor climb on top of her and pin her down so she can’t move an inch — and not for the lack of trying.

And yet.

“Had enough of your little power trip?” Lucy says, smiling, and her teeth somehow seem sharper than before. Her blue eyes are glowing. She gives Phasma a look that makes all the hairs on her body stand up — predatory, lecherous, hungry.

She holds Phasma’s wrists down in the same fashion Phasma held hers moments ago, her long hair tickling Phasma’s neck. Phasma tries to throw her off of herself, but finds that she can’t — Lucy’s grip is iron. She keeps squirming, but Lucy doesn’t even break a sweat as she holds her down.

“You can’t escape, handsome thing,” Lucy purrs. Phasma stares at the glitter on her lips — remnants of her now smudged lipgloss. 

“Fuck,” she says, giving up on trying to escape Lucy’s grip. There isn’t much else to say. 

“Yes, that’s what I’m about to do,” Lucy chuckles, then surges forward and pushes her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. Phasma makes a guttural noise as Lucy kisses her and assaults her mouth with her tongue — a tongue that, now that Phasma thinks about it, feels a bit too smooth, and is perhaps just a bit too long. The girl isn’t human, that much is clear, but Phasma has no idea what she is. 

“Like being choked, Captain?” Lucy purrs, breaking the kiss, her breath hot in Phasma’s mouth. 

Before Phasma can react in any way there is a tentacle wrapped around her neck. 

For a couple of seconds, Phasma can’t breathe. The tentacle feels smooth and slimy and slick, with little suction cups latching onto the skin of her neck hard enough to bruise. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees more of them appear above her. They seem to be sprouting from Lucy’s back, eight of them — thick, dark blue and glistening, with pink, fleshy suction cups. 

Lucy releases the hold on Phasma’s neck, and Phasma gasps for air. The suckers painfully tug on her skin as Lucy removes the tentacle. It feels like getting a dozen hickeys all at once. Phasma hisses in pain.

“I love dominant women,” Lucy whispers in Phasma’s ear. “I love how helpless they look as I fuck them, and I love it even more when they realise they fucking love it.”

She licks Phasma’s neck, cleans up the slick left on it from the tentacle. Phasma actually enjoys the sensation, and would perhaps enjoy it even more if she wasn’t distracted by the fleshy blue and pink tentacles wiggling around her. She stares at them, wrists pinned down, frozen, as Lucy kisses her neck.

“Like them?” Lucy asks. Phasma can feel her grin into her neck. 

They are horrifying, gross and slimy, but there is something mesmerising about the way they move — and they are attached to the most beautiful creature Phasma’s ever seen — that certainly makes a difference. 

“Feel them,” Lucy purrs and pulls on Phasma’s wrists, bringing them behind her back. Phasma tries pulling back, but Lucy’s grip on her wrists is too strong. She guides Phasma’s hands to slide along the tentacles. Phasma’s entire body tenses up. “Mmm, that feels really good, you know,” Lucy murmurs into her ear, licking and placing lazy kisses onto it. 

The slick tentacles and the sticky, bulbous suckers are unlike anything she’s ever touched. They feel weird, but not unpleasant — and mixed with Lucy’s hot kisses on her ear and her soft body pressed against Phasma’s, it’s… it’s…

Phasma settles on confusing.  

“You must have thought I’d be such easy prey,” Lucy whispers as she grinds her hips into Phasma’s and slams her arms back onto the couch. “Pretty girl you could throw around a bit, get some frustration out on, hm? Have a quick, dirty orgasm while you choke me. And if you accidentally squeezed too hard, who’d know?”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Phasma says, trying to keep her voice level, not wanting it to show how much she’s affected by Lucy grinding on her, the feeling of Lucy’s tits against her own, Lucy’s tongue on her ear. It’s not exactly a lie — she wouldn't kill her on purpose. If it happened accidentally, however… 

Well — she wouldn’t dwell on the life of a pretty whore from a bar.

“How generous. Perhaps I won’t kill you either, then. It would ruin the mood just a little bit.” She takes Phasma’s lower lip between her teeth and bites on it, drawing blood. Phasma sucks in a sharp breath. “I’d much prefer to fuck and humiliate you. It’ll be super hot. I promise you’ll love it.”

Phasma feels both relieved that she probably won’t get killed tonight and completely horrified at the prospect of what this girl — this creature — might do to her instead. She wistfully thinks of her blaster, left by the door as they entered the apartment. Oh, what a fool she was to think she wouldn’t need it in a makeout session with a pretty alien.

Lucy seems to notice the dread in Phasma’s eyes, because she laughs, showing all of her sharp teeth. Her laugh is lovely sound — one that Phasma still finds charming. She wonders if the girl is some sort of siren-like creature. 

Lucy caresses Phasma’s cheek — not with her hand, as she is still pinning Phasma’s wrists down — but with one of her tentacles. Phasma shivers at the feeling of the slimy, slick limb on her face leaving a wet trail of sludge. 

“Afraid, hm?”

“No,” Phasma spits out. She’d rather die than admit to fear.

Lucy chuckles. “I can tell you’re a crazy bitch. And you know what?” She leans in closer. “It takes one to know one,” she whispers, and then laughs — it send chills down Phasma’s spine.

“I’d say you happened to meet your match, but I could eat you for breakfast without even blinking. Now, my advice for you would be to try to relax and enjoy yourself. It hurts more if you’re all tight,” she purrs and crashes her lips into Phasma’s again, forcing her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. It’s definitely too long for a human tongue, and she sticks it so far down Phasma’s throat that she gags.

“Aww, not a good gag reflex?” Lucy coos, breaking the kiss. “Poor thing. Let me give you a little treat as a reward.”

She sits up on Phasma’s lap, and before Phasma can use the fact that her wrists aren’t being held  down anymore, Lucy replaces her hands with tentacles. Two wrap around her wrists, and two slide under her shirt, groping her tits over her sports-bra, wetting the fabric and leaving a disgusting trail of sludge on it. The suckers latch onto her skin — it feels bizarre — but she doesn’t dwell on the sensation too long. Her attention is taken by Lucy making a show of removing her dress, slowly sliding the straps down her shoulders. One of her nipples is already out from all the grinding and wrestling on the couch, but the other she reveals slowly — painfully slowly — letting the silky fabric slide down her perfect, round tit. Phasma watches her, mesmerised. Lucy is the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. 

Lucy maintains eye contact with her as she undresses, ultramarine eyes sparkling in the dark apartment, plump lips curled into a wicked smirk. There’s glitter on her face from all the smudged makeup, and her long, wavy hair falls onto her shoulders in beautiful, fluffy tresses. Her dress now pools around her soft belly, and rides up her thighs. She isn’t wearing anything underneath, and Phasma can catch a glimpse of dark hair between her legs. She can feel the heat radiating from there against her own pelvis. 

Lucy lazily starts rolling her hips into Phasma’s. Phasma’s eyes wonder up towards Lucy’s exposed tits that are lightly bouncing up and down as she grinds against her — perfect, round, soft tits, with small, dark nipples that she wants — needs — to have in her mouth. She watches, spellbound, mouth agape.

There is, however, a disturbing addition to the otherwise very arousing visual — the tentacles — slick, thick, deep blue and soft pink limbs that sprout from Lucy’s back and sides, four of them floating around her, and four pinning Phasma down and groping her over her bra. Phasma is only able to feel so much over the thick fabric strapping her tits down tight, but it still feels surprisingly good — better than Phasma would like to admit. And as she watches the alien goddess grind her hips on top of her, slimy tentacles surrounding her like a halo, tits bouncing, plump lips parted and smirking, she can’t deny it. 

It turns her on. 

She feels the wetness pool between her own thighs, and she's frustrated that she can’t do anything about it. She isn’t used to being helpless — or pinned down. She squirms underneath Lucy, unsure of what she’s really trying to do — escape, get some friction between her legs, or gain some semblance of control. 

“Poor baby,” Lucy says, smiling wickedly. “Craving some attention, hm?”

Phasma is pissed. Nobody dares talk down at her like that — and if they do, she makes sure they never talk again. She squirms some more, exasperated, trying to sit up, and she almost manages — but then the tentacles slam her down into the couch, and she realises she was only able to get up even a little because Lucy let her. She’s fuming — Lucy is toying with her like a cat with its prey. Phasma tries kicking her legs, but that does precisely nothing. 

“Fuck,” she grunts in frustration, and Lucy laughs. That bitch is laughing at her. Phasma thinks about blowing her head up with her blaster, and then each of the tentacles. She imagines how they’d twitch and fall down, limp and lifeless. 

“You’re so cute when you can’t get what you want,” Lucy chuckles, then rips her dress from her torso in one swift move, throwing it on the floor. Phasma is so mad she doesn’t even register the fact that Lucy is now naked on top of her. She’s seething with rage, her vision blurring.

“You fucking bitch,” Phasma says through her teeth, “I’ll fucking kill you—”

“Ah-ah,” Lucy interrupts her. “You might wanna keep your pretty mouth shut, Captain. I’m the one who could kill you, after all.”

Phasma cries out in frustration, but then there’s a slimy, thick tentacle in her mouth. She almost gags on it. She tries to scream, but the only thing coming out of her mouth are muffled groans. She throws her head left and right, trying to get the thing out of her mouth, but there’s no way she can manage that. Tears fill her eyes. The sensation of sludgy, sticky suckers latching onto her tongue disgusts her. She tries screaming and squirming some more, but to no avail. Finally, she stills, realising her defeat. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to gag.

“All done with your little tantrum?” 

Phasma just stares at those stunning, glowing, blue orbs mocking her, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. 

“Good. Now, stay still while I undress you,” she says, as if Phasma could do anything other than obey.

Phasma stays as still as she can, but she’s shaking, unable to help herself. She feels her cheeks burn with shame and disgust for her own helplessness.

Lucy undresses her almost gently — using her hands, thankfully. First she removes Phasma’s boots, then she undoes her belt. 

“Lift,” she says, and Phasma lifts her hips. Lucy pulls down her pants, then her underwear. Phasma trembles the entire time.

“Awww, don’t be scared, pretty captain.” She kisses Phasma’s knees, then up her thighs, strokes her legs and hips almost reassuringly. “You’re gonna get fucked so well — you’ll love it.”

Phasma just stares at her, hyperaware of the slimy tentacle in her mouth. Dread weighs down her stomach. She’s unable to do or say anything. 

“I’ll free your mouth to remove your shirt now, hm? And if you’re good and stay quiet I won’t gag you again. Nod if you understand.”

Phasma nods. She tries not to think about the tentacle shifting in her mouth as she does so. 

“Good girl,” Lucy says, and Phasma somehow manages to refrain from recoiling at the phrase. 

The suckers tug painfully onto her tongue, releasing with little pops as Lucy pulls out the tentacle. Phasma lets out a throaty whimper and furrows her brows in pain. Once the limb is out of her mouth, she moves her jaw and winces at the sludge it left behind — not enough to spit out, but enough to be gross. She swallows bits of it. It’s salty. 

“Like that, hm?” Lucy taunts her as she hooks her fingers under Phasma’s shirt. “Up.”

Phasma sits up and Lucy pulls the shirt over her head. “Stay.” She removes Phasma’s bra.

Phasma is fuming with rage at being talked to like a dog, but she says nothing — just closes her eyes and inhales deeply, trying to calm down. She is completely naked now. She can’t remember the last time she felt so exposed, so vulnerable. 

“Open your eyes, Captain. Look at me.”

Phasma does as she’s told. She gives Lucy a look full of hate.

��So easily provoked,” Lucy chuckles. “Come ‘ere.”

She kisses Phasma — surprisingly gently. She nibbles on her lip, caresses her neck and runs her fingers over the short hair at the back of Phasma’s head. She presses herself flush against Phasma and wraps her legs around Phasma’s hips. Her breasts feel soft against’s Phasma’s own as she slowly grinds against her. 

They make out for a while, and it almost feels normal, as if they’re just two naked women kissing instead of an alien and a war criminal playing a sick power game — with one side most definitely winning.

After a couple of minutes, Phasma slowly starts to relax into Lucy’s touch. She can’t resist her soft curves — she runs her hands over her breasts, grabs her hips — firmly, but not too hard, aware she’s not the one in control here. She’s very careful not to touch the tentacles. 

Lucy, however, doesn’t hold back from exploring Phasma’s body — and Phasma must admit it feels nice. She usually isn’t very keen on letting people pleasure her, as it requires giving up too much control — but since any semblance of control she may have felt in this situation is long gone, she finds that she enjoys being touched for once. Lucy drags her fingernails across Phasma’s back, fondles and squeezes her tits, her hips, her legs, her ass, runs her hands over Phasma’s muscular arms and taut stomach. She seems to really like Phasma’s muscles, and Phasma can’t help but feel just a little bit smug about that. 

Lucy quickly catches onto the fact that Phasma enjoys a bit of pain — she tortures and teases her by digging her nails into Phasma’s skin, biting her neck and her tits, leaving painful hickeys, slapping her face, tits and ass. Phasma feels herself go red with humiliation when Lucy spanks her really hard as she's kissing her, making her let out an embarrassing, needy whimper into her mouth. 

“You’re just a needy whore, aren’t you? You just need someone to spank and fuck you properly,” Lucy murmurs and Phasma’s hand flies towards Lucy’s neck on instinct, anger and humiliation filling her, but Lucy just laughs and catches her wrist, bringing it down. “You could use those in a more productive way,” she says, smirking, and guides Phasma’s hands towards her tentacles, making her caress the place where the sludgy limbs sprout from her skin. 

“Mmm, yes, do that,” Lucy purrs. 

Phasma hasn’t really got a choice, so she does as she’s told. She massages the tentacles, runs her hands over Lucy’s waist and back, sludge coating her fingers, and Lucy stars producing sinful moans that make Phasma grow instantly wet — not that the previous activities haven’t already riled her up. Much to her horror, she realises she doesn’t find touching the tentacles that gross — not when it makes Lucy moan like that. 

Lucy grinds her hips into Phasma’s, her movements growing more urgent and desperate by the second, and Phasma does the same. They dryhump on the couch, both moaning and grunting and groping each other, not concerned with being gentle. 

Phasma craves Lucy’s pretty tits in her mouth, and she decides to grant herself that wish — Lucy lets her. Phasma sucks and bites on her nipples, moans at the feeling of the soft, heavy tit in her mouth. However, when she tries sliding her hand between Lucy’s thighs, Lucy slaps it away. 

“I think we’ve had enough foreplay,” she says and roughly pushes Phasma down onto the couch.

Phasma is almost okay with Lucy fucking her at this point — she’s wet and turned on and Lucy is so attractive Phasma could forgive her most things. She even feels herself growing excited by the idea of Lucy’s fingers inside of her. 

However, when instead of Lucy’s hands she feels Lucy’s tentacles on her body — wrapping around her arms and torso, spreading her legs apart, grabbing her tits, squeezing and latching onto her skin — a horrifying realisation hits her.

Lucy won’t use her hands to fuck her.

Lucy is sitting on the couch, back prettily arched, hand between her legs. She’s a beautiful and terrifying vision — the most alluring monster. Her smooth, dark skin glistens with sludge and sweat, her lips are parted, and her face and neck are full of makeup glitter. Her piercing blue eyes glow in the dark, and her round tits and soft belly look enticing enough to bite. Blue and pink tentacles wiggle around her — horrid, thick, disgusting, sludgy limbs.

The tentacles wrap around Phasma’s tits and squeeze — Phasma suppresses a moan . They caress her torso, her neck, latch onto her skin, give her painful hickeys. They keep her legs spread and hold her arms firmly in place. One of the tentacles slowly makes its way up Phasma’s legs. 

The tentacle touches the inside of her thigh. Phasma would recoil if she could move — instead, her stomach muscles spasm. “No,” she says, as the tentacle slides up her thigh. “No, no, no—”

The tentacle touches her vulva. Sticky suckers latch onto Phasma’s skin, onto her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, pain and horror. “Fuck,” she cries through gritted teeth. 

“Feels good, hm?” Lucy asks, voice breathy and gaze hooded as she touches herself. “My handsome captain. I’m gonna fuck you so well.” 

She slides the tentacle down towards Phasma’s entrance. Phasma wonders if that thing can even fit inside of her. She squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the pain of being stretched out — but the tentacle slides further down, over her pussy lips and towards her ass — and then she feels it probe around a much tighter hole.

“No,” Phasma says, squirming as the tentacle pushes against her muscles. “No, stop — stop! Stop!”

She knows there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, but she fights it anyway, squirming and screaming. She tenses up when she feels the tip of the tentacle push inside of her. The thing is sludgy and slick enough that it doesn’t burn and sting too badly — but it still hurts.

“My advice would be to relax, Captain. It’ll hurt much more if you’re tense,” Lucy says, voice thick and breathy, as she rubs her own clit. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

Phasma hates to admit she’s right — the smartest thing would be to relax as much as she can, if she doesn’t want it to hurt much more than it needs to. Taking a deep breath, she does her best to unclench her muscles. She feels the tentacle slide a bit further in and she grimaces, but doesn’t tense up again, instead letting it slowly fill her. It stings, and it feels wrong — but then the tentacle touches a good spot and she moans. It starts slowly sliding in and out of her. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to make any more embarrassing sounds — but then it suddenly picks up the pace and starts pounding into her, and she cries out in pleasure and pain. 

Before she can get used to the feeling of being fucked, another tentacle slides into her pussy without warning, filling her and painfully stretching her. “Fuck!” she cries.

She’s being fucked in both holes — it hurts and it burns, and she can feel the two tentacles touch over her inner walls. The slimy suckers provide a different sensation than the smooth, slick part of the tentacle, and Phasma hates how good the different texture feels. One of the suckers latches onto her clit, and then Phasma can’t hold back her moans anymore. With each thrust she lets out a puff of air and a whine. Her cheeks and chest burn in shame — but then Lucy fucks her harder and the suckers latch onto her nipples, and she forgets all about shame. Delicious pleasure overwhelms her. 

Lucy continues to touch herself as she watches her. The air is filled with moans and cries and wet noise of tentacles pounding into Phasma, as well as the slick sound of Lucy rubbing her own pussy.

“Does it feel good, hm?” Lucy asks, her voice breathy. “Tell me.”

Phasma doesn’t have it in her to form a coherent sentence — she just whines as the both tentacles keep hitting the right spots. That, combined with the sucking on her clit and nipples, makes her unable to think about anything else except the orgasm that is starting to build deep inside her belly. She’s never experienced anything quite like this. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s producing sounds she never thought she was capable of making. Her entire body tingles with pleasure.

Then, Lucy stops. 

Phasma is breathing heavily, frustrated by not getting enough stimulation to keep the delicious pleasure building. She still, however, considers herself above begging. She avoids looking Lucy in the eyes, her shame too deep — but Lucy will have none of that. A tentacle grabs Phasma’s chin and forces her head towards Lucy. Phasma closes her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Phasma slowly opens her eyes and meets Lucy’s bright blue ones that are shining with lust. She looks absolutely beautiful, and somehow ethereal — she’s almost glowing in the dark room. 

“Wanna come?” she asks her. Phasma is silent. “Tell me, slut.”

Phasma makes a quick and practical decision in about a couple of seconds — she figures that since she’s already completely and utterly humiliated, she could at least get an orgasm out of it. 

It still isn’t easy to say it.

“Yes,” she manages to utter. She doesn’t recognise her own desperate and raspy voice. 

“Then beg.”

They stare each other down for a moment. Phasma knows she’s lost — she disregards the last bits of dignity left in her and begs.

“Please,” she breathes out, barely audible.

“Louder.”

Phasma averts her gaze. “Ah-ah, look at me.”

Phasma obeys and begs again, this time louder. “Please.”

“Say, I need you to fuck me like a filthy slut.”

Phasma takes in a shaky breath. She struggles to maintain eye contact, but forces herself to do it nonetheless. “I—I need you to… fuck me…. like a filthy slut,” she utters, her voice breaking. Her cheeks burn and her stomach twists with humiliation.

Phasma will never admit it to anyone — you could hold her at gunpoint and she’d deny it — but there’s something erotic about giving up control — about letting yourself be somebody you aren’t, somebody who begs to be treated like a filthy slut. She’s never been fucked like this before, and she didn’t think she’d enjoy it — she’s never craved it, never fantasised about anything of the sort.

And yet.

Lucy grins, and it’s downright evil. “Well — since you’re begging, Captain.”

Without further warning, Lucy starts fucking her harder than before. Tentacles slide in and out of her, suckers latch onto her body, her clit, her nipples. She whines and moans, unable to help herself, but then a tentacle is forced into her mouth again and it muffles her desperate sounds. Phasma is almost grateful for it — she can’t bear listening to her own embarrassing cries.

Lucy rubs her own clit, brows furrowed in pleasure, beads of sweat dripping down her face and chest. She lets out quiet little huffs as she works herself towards her own release. Phasma watches her, and feels an orgasm build in her belly again, deep and potent. She gags on the tentacle, completely helpless as it fucks her mouth relentlessly. She feels the burning sting of her holes being stretched, revels in the delicious pleasure of her clit and nipples being sucked. She can’t move, she can’t scream — she can only watch Lucy cry out and come around her own fingers, before she herself tips over the edge of ecstasy. 

The orgasm washes over her like a wave. She would scream if she could, but instead she just grunts and convulses, her eyes rolling back in her head. She shakes and trembles, and Lucy doesn’t stop — instead she fucks her into another orgasm. 

Phasma is vaguely aware of a sticky tentacle wrapping around her neck and squeezing — she can’t breathe for a couple of seconds, and then she can again — and then she comes even harder than before. Somewhere around her third orgasm Lucy squeezes onto her neck a bit too hard and too long, and Phasma loses consciousness. 

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

When she comes to, she doesn’t know where she is. She’s in pain, her head is throbbing, and she feels nauseous. 

She lies on the floor for a while, fighting the urge to throw up. She rolls onto her side, pressing her aching body against the hard concrete and hissing in pain. She blinks furiously, trying to stay conscious and clear her vision. 

A neon sign catches her attention, and she blinks some more to try and read it. She quickly realises it’s the sign in front of the bar in which all of this started. It’s not the dead of the night anymore, however — dawn is breaking.

She somehow manages to lift herself from the floor and not throw up. Her head is pounding, every muscle in her body hurts, and she can barely walk. She’s sore from the fucking. She’s relieved to see she’s in the clothes she came here in, even if they’re wrinkled and dirty and have dried tentacle slime on it. 

And she’s, of course, also relieved that she’s still alive — she figured the girl wouldn't kill her, but she couldn't tell for sure. What a stupid way to go it would have been. 

She looks at her wrists. They have disturbing looking hickeys on them — rows of purple dots in the shape of tentacle suckers — she figures the rest of her body probably looks similar. There’s also makeup glitter on her hands. She shudders. 

Somehow she manages to get back to the ship. Nobody dares ask questions.

She spends the entirety of that day in a hot bath, fuming with rage, grunting in pain, trying to fully remove makeup glitter from her skin with little success, and thinking about the best orgasms of her life.

A year later, she’s on the same planet again — and yet again, she has some free time before a mission. Before she can overthink it, she finds herself in the same bar.

She doesn’t know why she does it. There’s no way that thing will be here again. 

When she catches Lucy’s gaze in the crowd, her belly tingles with excitement.

“Missed me, Captain?” she purrs as they dance, bodies pressed flush against each other. 

Phasma grabs her face and kisses her.

She comes several times that night. When she wakes up unconscious in the alleyway again, she swears not to do this ever again.

And she doesn’t.

...

Not until the next time she comes to town.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

big thanks to lovely @opheliauniverse for editing <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz

#kink!week #7 days of kink #captain phasma #captain phasma x original female character #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #star wars sequel trilogy

[mrvelocipede]

Notes on the multicolored doily

Ovale Decke: Ravelry link, Ramona French charts

Knitted using three colors of crochet cotton, on US size 2 (2.75mm) needles. Finished dimensions about 24x18 inches.

The hexagonal units are reasonably straightforward to knit, although I had some questions about the chart. There’s a triple YO that turns into 7 stitches, which is clearly visible in pictures of the finished doily, but which is charted in a way that looks like it would result in two groups of three and a single stitch. Historic Niebling patterns tell you to alternate knits and purls in the same stitch for those huge increases, but I usually alternate knits and YOs instead. It makes fewer twists in the yarn.

Then there’s a round of purl stitches, and I can’t figure out why. The pictures from the original magazine don’t seem to have them, and some of the Ravelry projects don’t have them either, but some do. At what stage of things was this variation introduced? It is a mystery. I swatched it both ways, and decided to leave them out.

Ultimately, I made my own version of the chart, and used that. Here it is, for the record. In the hexagon chart, I included every round, because there are a couple of things that happen on even-numbered rounds, and I didn’t want to lose track of them. The border charts use the more standard notation of only showing odd-numbered rounds.

The 1x1 cable crosses may have all gone the same direction in the original, but I decided to mirror them, and also to not do them as actual cables. Instead, I did a mock cable that I think of as a Fake Decrease, but which is maybe officially called a Twisted Stitch (or Traveling Stitch?) and which I got very tired of by the time I was at the end of the border. All the border leaves are outlined in these crossed stitches as well. There are a lot of them. Bah.

I made four hexagonal units and grafted them together. Then I put all the remaining stitches onto a 24 inch needle, and considered the border.

The hexagon sides each have 17 stitches. In between the groups of 17, you either add a YO or you don’t, depending on whether that corner is convex or concave. I made a little diagram for both the 4-unit and the 9-unit versions, to show the placement of the in-between YOs.

I used several different colors of stitch markers to keep track of which places had the YOs and which ones didn’t. The YOs eventually expand into the triple-leaf shapes, but at first they’re easy to lose sight of.

I re-charted the border as two parts, A and B, and made a few small tweaks. When you’re using chart A, instead of repeating the chart exactly, you work whichever bits apply: the leaf increases happen at the corners where you’ve added a YO, and the former hexagon sides are gradually decreased away.

So you work rounds 1-8 of chart A, knitting any ktbl stitches through the back loop on the plain rounds as well. Starting with round 9, the part of the chart inside the orange outline gets repeated three times. Those sections get much wider very quickly, and it didn’t take very long before I had to switch to a 32 inch needle. And eventually to wish I had a 40 inch one.

On round 19, there are some places in between the leaf sections where there’s one stitch, and some places where there are two. To start chart B, you need three stitches in between the leaves, so you either do one YO (in between), or two YOs (one on either side). On round 20, I decided to knit those single in-between YOs through the back loop, because they seemed a bit too open and gappy. I suppose that more or less turns them into a M1.

I used two different double decreases, as follows:

The angled double decrease is slip 1 stitch, knit 2 together, pass the slipped stitch over: the central stitch ends up on the bottom of the stack, and the diagonal decrease lines are emphasized.

The centered double decrease is slip 2 stitches together knitwise, knit 1, pass both slipped stitches over: the central stitch ends up on top, and the vertical line is emphasized.

The 5-into-1 decrease goes like this: first you slip 2 stitches knitwise, exactly like you would for a ssk. Knit the next 2 stitches together, and pass one of the slipped stitches over. Then move the stitch over to the left needle, and pass the next working stitch over it. Move it back to the right needle, pass the other slipped stitch over it, and you’re done.

Chart B is pretty much normal lace knitting (except for the interminable 1x1 crossed stitches). After round 31, the marked groups of stitches are gathered with crochet chains in between.

The ones on Ravelry all seem to be diamond-shaped, but I blocked mine into more of an ellipse, and it’s kind of interesting to see how it distorted the central hexagons. Dealing with all the loose ends was exactly as terrible as you think it was. Writing the notes took nearly as long as the actual knitting. Hooray!

#knitting #doilies #in which I attempt to explain my methods #charts #long post #Herbert Niebling rides again

[generalluxun]

New ML Fanfiction: In Direct Opposition

I figured I would post the first section of this fic here on Tumblr while announcing it's inception. Future installments will be on AO3(as this one is) which is linked in my profile.

The fic is Alya-centric and begins the morning of Origins. Alya's alarm goes off early, she gets up early, she leaves the house early, and she meets Chloé Bourgeois before anyone else at school. Events quickly clue her in that her new 'friend' is, problematic, but Alya is nothing if not stubborn and takes this as a challenge. The fic will revisit several canon-events from a different point of view and with alterations along the way. However one thing Alya begins to notice ealry... something is altering events as she's experienced them, creating multiple perceptions of the true flow of events. She sets out to find out what this is, while still living through the life of a girl at FDP stuck between Chloe and Marinette, Ladybug and Hawkmoth. Full text below the cut.

Alya Césaire scanned an article about the mayor dedicating a new park, then entered his name into her phone's search engine. She finished the article while stirring more sugar into the remains of her morning coffee then tapped through search results to scan for more info.

Ten years, daughter, wife-Audrey Bourgeois.

Alya stopped at that name. She glanced over the embedded pictures of the mayor's family, then opened a new tab to double check her theory. Yes, it was Audrey Bourgeois, fashion critic. She was often mixed up with the New York heroes in some manner or another. Usually it was some villain seeking revenge. Majestia and Knight Owl had saved her countless times. It seemed like Audrey was really good at inspiring revenge.

Alya finished her coffee, moving on to the next article, search engine open beside her. She was deep into an article about fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste when her sister's voice interrupted her.

"What's all this, sis?" Nora indicated the breakfast array Alya had spread across the table, before grabbing an orange and peeling it.

Alya folded the newspaper and tapped it against her lips. "Well, despite my triple checking, my alarm went off a whole hour early this morning. So I put my extra time to good use.  Some for me, and some for you and the twins."

Nora's eyes widened as one part of that sunk in. She froze with an orange slice poised in front of her mouth. "New school? It starts today? As in…?"

Alya couldn't help but grin at her big sister's reaction. "That means the twins are all yours today. Good luck, this breakfast should have them docile for a little while."

As if on cue a sleepy but insistent, "Mama?' and 'sis?' made themselves heard through the apartment.

Alya grabbed one last piece of toast and her bag. "Oops, look at the time. See you when I get back, Nora!" then she fled.

-----------------------

Early up, early out the door, and now early for school. Alya lingered outside, watching the new kids coming and going. It was a little conceit her mother had taught her to make the move easier. ‘You’re not the new kid, honey. You’ve been around since you were born. They’re the new ones. Just give them a chance to show you who they are.’

Alya liked the idea, but it did come with the tricky afterthought. Who do I give a chance to first?

A limousine pulled up to the curb as if on cue. The other students ignored it, and Alya wondered just what kind of school this was. A driver opened the door and out scrambled first a bespectacled ginger haired girl, then a glammed up blonde whose body language immediately set Alya’s hair on end. The tinge of fear just galvanized her though. What good’s a reporter who is scared of the rich? If I can take on this one, I’ve got it made. Her morning dive in the paper had even supplied her with a name to go with the face as she approached.

“You’re Chloé Bourgeois, the mayor’s daughter!”

The Blonde’s head snapped around and sharp-cut sapphire blue eyes regarded her cooly. Alya stood her ground with her best smile in place. Chloé gestured to her, “I don’t know you, do I?”

The ginger was at Chloé’s shoulder in a heartbeat, murmuring near her ear, “No Chloé, you don’t. She doesn’t go here.”

Alya stuck out her hand, bulldozing the social barricade, “Alya Césaire, new student. So, you really are the mayor’s daughter, right? I saw your picture on the mayor’s website while doing my research.”

The other girl was clearly not used to being approached. She regarded the hand as if it might be a weapon, but a few beats later what Alya had said seemed to register and her scowl turned into a delighted smile. “You saw my picture on daddy’s webpage? Was it big? Was it on the front, or was it buried again? Why were you looking me up? I mean, I am interesting, I know, but why specifically? ”

Alya kept up the pressure, recognizing tells. “Well, it just made sense, looking for the important people in town. I’m an independent reporter. While I have you, can I line up an interview?”

It worked. The delighted curiosity morphed into a self-satisfied pleasure on Chloé’s face. She reached out and plucked at Alya’s hand, not a proper shake but a gesture that could be worked with. “An interview? Well, I suppose I could do something like that. Are you very famous back where you come from? You’re not… dressed… very fashionably.”

Fashion! Alya remembered the other little nugget of information and put it to use. She clasped her hands behind herself, squaring her shoulders. “I’m rising in the journalism world.” Not technically a lie, even if I’m very close to the ground right now. “As for fashion, we can’t all be as well versed as Audrey Bourgeois, can we? Anyway the story is supposed to be what stands out, not the reporter.”

A series of reactions danced over Chloé’s supremely-readable face, not all of them positive. Alya filed that away for later. In the end though her smile remained, if slightly more pasted on. “Quite right. Well, it’s a very busy day, new girl. If stories are what you are here for, today is the very first day Adrien Agreste will be attending Francis DuPont. Oh, I know!”

Chloé’s face brightened with childish delight again.

“You can do a joint interview for the both of us. The mayor’s daughter, Chloé Bourgeois, and Adrien Agreste, fashion icon, friends finally united!”

Professional interest joined with her desire to make new friends. Alya nodded with a toothy grin of her own and clenched a fist, “I’ll interview the two of you within an inch of your lives.”

Chloé nodded, “Excellent. Just follow me Césaire. I can see we’ll be good friends.”

--------------------

The school was definitely a change of pace. Alya knew her father’s new job was a lot better, but everything about this school screamed money. There were only a few dozen students in total from what she could tell, and her classroom had seats for twelve at most. She was still taking it in when Chloé stopped beside one of the front desks and held up a hand.

“Wait here. I have some adjustments to make.”

She ascended to the next tier and stopped beside a dejected looking girl who wore her dark hair in pigtails. Chloé said something in a normal tone that Alya couldn’t hear. Alya tried to strain her hearing, snooping being a perfectly valid journalistic activity, and so flinched when Chloé’s voice went from normal to bellow.

“Wake up, Du-Pain-Cheng! You’re sitting in my seat!”

The pigtailed girl jumped, her eyes focused on Chloé and she sighed, “Chloé, this is my seat, this has always been my seat.”

Beside Alya, Sabrina opened her mouth, but then snapped it shut and gave Alya a side-eye. Alya’s hackles rose.

“Not anymore!” Chloé snapped. She thrust a finger at the empty first row seat in front of pigtails. “It’s going to be Adrien’s first day and that’s his seat. Which means you’re sitting in my seat.”

Pigtails seemed resigned, but still questioned, “Who’s Adrien?”

Chloé laughed into the back of her hand. It was not a nice laugh. Alya’s hackles rose further. Chloé leaned in too close to pigtails, “Adrien Agreste! What, have you been living under a rock? Well, no, scratch that. I know you have been. Adrien is only the most famous model in all of Paris, and he’s my best friend. I was the one who had daddy get him enrolled here, so I get to sit beside him.”

Alya’s senses expanded, taking in the room, the reactions, tiny details that mattered in an instant. She stepped up to the pair, “Hey!”

Not just two pairs, but all the eyes in the room swiveled to her.

Alya gestured back to the empty front row desk Sabrina still stood beside. “If it's the proximity you want, this seat makes a lot more sense. No desk in the way, and he’s not facing the wrong way. I mean, I’m new to Paris so I don’t know who he is either, but I’m guessing it’s not the back of his head most people go gaga over.”

Chloe and pigtails exchanged looks. Alya counted to ten in her head to keep from going on, she had to let it stew. Chloé went from confusion to confidence again. “Of course! Up front is where the winners are anyway.” Alya was congratulating herself but Chloé snapped back to pigtails, “Being behind Adrien will remind you that you’re beneath him too, Du-Pain-Cheng.”

Chloé immediately stepped away from pigtails, and Alya considered it a partial victory. Behind her, the other girl wilted with relief. Chloé stopped short when the problem of three girls and two seats became apparent, but this time she had a solution of her own.

“Sabrina! You go up and sit beside Dupain-Cheng. She clearly needs all the help she can get. Don’t let her out of your sight. Cesaire, you stay with me, we can’t have you getting lost on your first day.”

Shuffling took place. Chloé was rattling off information about Adrien Agreste, but Alya was listening with half an ear. She’d been in school for less than thirty minutes and already she sensed she was in the middle of something big.

---------------------------

Lunch was Alya’s first free moment. This Adrien Agreste hadn’t shown up, and Chloé had gone from energetic to reticent as the hours wore on. It was Sabrina, not Chloé, who informed her, “Chloé’s going back to the hotel for lunch. As her best friend , I’m going with her. You stay here, and try not to get into too much trouble.”

It was funny, 35 kilos of awkward girl trying to look intimidating through glasses thicker than Alya’s. Alya made sure not to laugh though, it wouldn’t help anything. Instead she just gave Sabrina the same innocent expression she gave the twins when they were trying to be bossy. “Of course not! I’ll be fine. Go cheer her up. Only a best friend can do that, you know.”

Sabrina’s suspicious look had Alya thinking maybe the other girl saw through her, but she didn’t say anything. She just trotted out after Chloé, who’s ground-eating stride had almost taken her out of the courtyard already.

Alya had a goal this lunch and scanned for her target as soon as she entered the cafeteria. Finding her, she crossed to the table-for-one, and tried a cheerful sing-song. “Heya, pigtails.”

The intensity of the glower she got surprised her. “I have a name you know.”

Alya tried again. “I know, Du-Pain-Cheng, right?”

The glower darkened. Everything about this girl screamed cute and perky, but her expression would have fit a hardened criminal. “It’s Dupain-Cheng. That’s my last name. My friends call me Marinette. You’re Chloé’s friend though, so I guess that doesn’t matter.”

Alya would not be defeated. She helped herself to the seat opposite Marinette. “I’m going to be a friend to lots of people if I can help it. Can I count on you being one of those people? The name’s Alya Césaire, journalist-in-training.”

She stuck her hand out, and just as Chloé had, Marinette eyed it suspiciously.

Alya offered, “I did manage to avoid you having to give up your seat this morning.”

At that, Marinette cautiously extended her hand. “Yeah, why did you do that?”

Alya grabbed it before Marinette could reconsider and gave a solid shake. “Because, as Majestia says, ’All that is necessary for the triumph of evil if for good people to do nothing.’”

Marinette looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook her head. “Well, you’ve set yourself up with the evilest girl in all of Paris.”

Alya’s own observations has been piling up, and before this morning she would have agreed instantly. However, Alya had already made nice with the blonde girl, and she would not be defeated , even by herself. A new line of thinking presented itself and Alya took hold of it with both hands.

She looked Marinette in the eyes, speaking slowly to convince herself and the other girl at the same time. “No. People aren’t evil. Evil gets inside people. If she’s evil now, then we just have to defeat that evil. That’s what heroes do. They defeat evil and save everyone .”

Marinette looked doubtful, but she slid a beat up box containing a single intact Macaroon amid a lot of mushed crumbs across the table toward Alya. “Well, thank you for what you did this morning, my hero.”

She finished with a smile and Alya smiled back in relief. Alya broke the macaroon in half and offered one piece back to Marinette. “Glad to help. Now, I need you to give me your version of what goes down in this school. A good reporter can’t ever have too many sources.”

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #Alya cesaire #chloé bourgeois #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Sabrina Raincomprix #Miraculous AU #Or is it? #Mystery

[seradyn]

A Dream Come True (Chp. 10)

Chapter 10/?: Budding Romance

The dreams have passed, and it’s back to work with you. Although, your little library is visited by someone most unexpected.

Link to work Masterlist

Word Count: 5126

TW: none

Tags: @savage-rhi @ticklemycucumber @miridiums-writing

Lmk if you’d like to get tagged in updates

———————————————————————

When you next awoke, it turned out your day off had been stolen.

It was a bit hard to fathom, when you’d finally had the courage to shake yourself awake, dreading what more the day could bring. You’d double and triple checked the date, confirming that you had, indeed, been asleep for over 24 hours.

You weren’t sure what was more horrifying; the fact that you’d basically suffered a mini coma, or that you’d somehow still awoken in the same way as all those other nights; covered in sweat and exhausted beyond belief. The pattern held true, a nightmare each night, despite whatever efforts you had gone through to stop them. Those whimsies of your unspoken mind were turned raw, leaving corrupt taint in their wake. You were left to pick up the pieces of your broken psyche come the morning, with all the pleasures of existence still demanding attention.

You were growing tired of it all, emotionally and physically.

It stuck with you long after you’d numbly gone through the motions of getting ready and heading off to work, absently doing your duties in numb disinterest. The dreams, those parasites, leeched away your attention for anything but themselves, leaving Gralea to seem just as surreal as any world they could conjure. The streets, the people, they all passed in a blur; a muddy memory of grey cement and brown sweaters.

The real world was starting to feel bland, monotonous compared to all you’d lived during the past week.

It was akin to having a second life, you realized, as your skin soaked up the warm air at your desk.

And much like a second life, you couldn’t tell anyone, lest you be labeled a delusional, sanctimonious fool.

Yet no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you were being farcical, it was easy to let yourself obsess over every little detail, every little moment you could remember. Each one spawned more questions than answers, sown and reaped long before you had a chance to catch up. It made everything that much more difficult to process, as you struggled to decide what deserved the abundance of your attention.

The dull sting of anxiety prickled your chest for the rest of the day, hovering close to breathe hot steam down your shoulder. You knew you were being paranoid, overthinking things, but rationality had long lost its grip of you.

There was just no way any of this actually meant something. They were just dreams, they had to be.

And even so…

What if something bigger really was going on here? Was some invisible clock ticking down every minute you didn’t act, didn’t do what you were asked, marching towards the horrible fate you’d been shown? Had you doomed humanity with simple skepticism?

You worried a lock of hair between your fingers as the hours crawled by, the end becoming split and frizzy.

Your encounter with Ifrit flashed beneath your eyelids, his cloudy, dead expression and disfigured horn sticking out prominently in your recollection. So vividly, you could see the way his face wrinkled, his lips peeled back in a toothy snarl, as he raised his hand and buried you in fire.

You shuddered at the images of being melted alive, trying to keep yourself from stimming too obviously to calm yourself. While the meeting with The Infernian’s flames hadn’t caused any physical pain themselves, there was naturally something deeply disturbing about being burned out of existence. Every time the thought came to an end, it would rewind and repeat, torturing you by making you relive the trauma.

The rest of your day was filled with similar such strife, the hours at times dragging by at a crawl, and at others with impressive haste while you mused.

You could’ve wept with joy when the clock struck 7, close enough to closing for you to justify leaving the desk to organize the returns.

Anything to get your body moving and mind off the dreams.

Gods, you were exhausted.

You made your rounds with your little rusted trolley, up and down the maze of books, filling the ubiquitous holes where missing texts belonged. The work was tedious, but it required just enough thought to keep your mind occupied, which was what you sorely needed. The cold metal bit into your palms as you pushed your way through each section, firmly grounding you in reality.

At some point through your organization, you found yourself in the non fiction section. Usually you barely paid attention to where you were, but your eye caught on the title of a book in your hand; a journal from a civilian during the bloody imperial takeover of Accordo, and you frowned. Not one of your favorite genres; you’d often found the literature depressing. The crimes of humanity towards their own kind never failed to bring down your mood. There were too many sins that could never be atoned for.

You pushed past those painful thoughts, stopping here and there to file returned books back to their rightful places. A tome on the founding of Altissa to your right, the extinct technologies of Solheim down at your feet. The dance between trolley and shelf was one you’d long perfected, the still quietness of the surrounding books gently easing the tension in your chest as you moved.

So focused on your task, remembering the correct way to place everything, you lost track of the space around you. You were sharply pulled back into awareness when metal jabbed at your hip, sending a wave of books tumbling to the floor with muffled thuds as your cart jostled.

You looked down at the mess and sighed.

This was why you weren’t allowed to be distracted while working.

You stooped down to the floor, the coarse carpet biting through your clothes while you picked up the hard covers and stacked them in your arms. You hoped no pages had been bent from your carelessness, as some were splayed open, facedown on the ground.

The pile tucked up to your chest was considerable, straining your arms by the time you’d gotten most of them. As you reached your hand out to the last one, you became vaguely aware of the thumping of footsteps echoing from somewhere to your left, sounding as close as the next row over. You paid it little mind, assuming it was some straggler who’d yet to notice the library would close soon.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

You heard the steps abruptly stop, at the end of the aisle you were working in. Still, you ignored it, hardly paying attention.

“Oh my…” the person spoke, much to your surprise. Their contented drawl took you aback, freezing you with your arm still outstretched.

You knew that voice. The forced, almost sickening sweetness in their words. Before even looking up, you felt the rush of blood draining from your face. Your breath caught in your throat, unbelieving, when you craned your neck upwards to meet the stranger’s gaze.

The sight that met you made your heart stop.

Holy fuck he found me again.

There was no mistaking that look.

Ardyn smirked, the wicked grin that permanently stained his face growing smug when your gazes met. He returned your astonishment with a devilish gleam in his eye, that unmistakable satisfaction twisting his features. He stood at the end of the shelves, looking just as he had on the night you’d met, complete with his air of superiority that made your skin crawl with unease.

“What a pleasant surprise…” he purred, smooth, like the lazy dripping of oil. He seemed rather delighted at the sight before him, eyes narrowed as he stared from underneath his wild hair.

At the sound of his voice, a flash of him stole across your mind. The crazed, daemonic look he had when his veins became clogged with miasma. The gut wrenching wail you remembered when his leg was snapped in two. Then what had transpired the night before, that monster…and Ifrit.

You suddenly felt vulnerable on the floor, looking up at his yellow, unblinking eyes, observing you much like a great Zu stalking its next meal. You stood up, perhaps a little too quickly, your last book laying cold and forgotten on the floor.

“C-Chancellor?!” You sputtered in greeting, managing to find your meek voice after a moment of stunned silence.

What on Eos was he doing here?

He laughed, then. A soft sound that rolled from his throat, amused by the startle he gave you. He stepped forward, his frame easily eclipsing the end of the aisle, trapping you there, trapping you with him. He bent down to snatch the book you’d forgotten as he strode, tilting his head to look at you as he approached.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” he said, his voice bordering on a lustful lowness, deep and unrelenting. “You may call me Ardyn.”

He extended the book to you, smiling innocently at your flabbergasted expression.

Like he wasn’t the chancellor, and he hadn’t just helped relieve your clumsiness.

You hesitated, eyes flicking between him and the proffered item, still unsure how to process his presence. It was incredibly surreal, meeting such a powerful man again, after only a day of space between your last encounter. You’d expected to never see him again beyond that night, the disparity in your statuses keeping your paths from crossing.

Yet here he stood before you, being kind, being helpful. Even giving you permission to drop his honorifics.

You tentatively took the book from him, making certain to grab it by a corner, purposely keeping your hands from touching. By the way his nose further wrinkled in a sneer, you knew it didn’t escape his notice, either. You nodded in thanks as its weight was transferred to you, added to the stack pressed against your chest.

“Ardyn, then,” you breathed, testing it on your tongue. You realized it was the first time you’d called him by name in the real world.

He seemed pleased, eyes brightening as it passed your lips.

Once the book was secured, you quickly deposited them back on your cart in a messy pile, some teasing the edge again.

Your muscle memory kicked in, and you made a show of getting back to work, your mind and body needing something, anything else to focus on. Looking at Ardyn, you could see his face crumbling, the dreams rising to the surface like a corrosive concoction. You could see the sorrow, then the anger and bitterness that followed; you could hear the clang of blades meeting, of metal piercing skin.

You prayed to the Gods Ardyn wasn’t privy to the battle you were waging within yourself, to keep those visions at bay. That he couldn’t see the nerves that turned the atmosphere awkward.

You heard the rustling of clothes, of Ardyn shuffling, and you peeked over your shoulder to see him now facing the shelves to your back, browsing them with an amused smile on his face.

Internally, you heaved a sigh of relief, glad his attention was elsewhere while you focused on trying to make sense of the heap you’d made.

The silence that hung in the air was almost painful, a buzzing tension filling the space.

Books loudly thumped against each other as you shoved them aside to make room for the ones that were missing. You were making progress getting it all done, slowly but surely. Though while you worked, you noticed yourself subconsciously stealing quick looks at Ardyn out of your periphery. Watching the way he presented himself, how he carried himself, looking for any overlaps with his fantasy persona.

You knew it wasn’t really fair to compare them, as different as they were, but you needed reassurance. That your dreams really were just feverish delusions.

Ardyn seemed content to simply stew in the silence he’d curated, not a word parting his lips as he carefully looked over your selection. Yet he seemed to be growing irritated, scanning the shelves up and down, a frown darkening his features as his search came up fruitless.

You blinked curiously, watching him with growing interest.

He must be looking for something.

Your lips parted, your first instinct being to help, but you paused, uncertain.

Should you…talk to him?

Would that be bothersome? Intrusive?

Was it not your job though, to help people find the knowledge they sought?

Yet Ardyn was such an enigma…You’d dreamed of him not once, but three times, a man you’d never met or much thought about until that week. Why was he the focal point, why him had your brain chosen to latch onto? Hell, you hadn’t even known it was him those first few nights, when you’d naively believed those fantasies were a one time thing.

Even disregarding that, he’d immediately captured your intrigue with the way he’d acted previously; like a performer on stage ready for their next show. His character, a mystery that just begged to have its locks jostled. His motivations, which may seem obvious, trite, were clearly more than what could be seen on the surface. You barely knew him, this him, and even you could see the chip on his shoulder, the agenda he had all his own, hidden in plain sight. It was clear from the night you’d first bumped into each other, especially when he’d walked you home, speaking like he knew things far beyond your pitiful comprehension.

And here he was, again, acting as if he was any ordinary person. If it weren’t for the getup he wore, he may have even fooled someone, too. Yet you were wiser, realizing how convenient it was that he happened to be in exactly the right place at exactly the right time to stumble upon you, despite never being told where you worked. In your 4 years of service, never having seen him grace your halls once, though now he waltzed in like a regular patron.

Just what was his game?

And how did he fit in, with all those nighttime illusions? Why did every one, save for last night’s, come back to him?

You closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose, stamping out those lawless, frantic thoughts.

Those dreams were just distractions.

Ardyn was just as any other man was; he wasn’t special. He was no healer, no brother to the founder king, and certainly no lover of the first Oracle.

To proclaim otherwise was to be delusional.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to properly look at him, his continued frustration.

And here’s your chance to prove it. To distance the real him and the one you made up.

You swallowed.

“Do you need help?” You probed nervously. Your voice barely drifted across the space, quiet and timid.

Part of you hoped maybe he wouldn’t hear you.

No such luck, as Ardyn let out an exasperated, almost dramatic sigh, his head bobbing while he continued to look. “I was under the impression your collection included a tome on the Oracle lineage,” he said woefully. “But alas, it eludes me.”

Upon hearing the subject of his desires, your eyes subconsciously trailed to where you knew such a book to be, just to the left of his far shoulder.

“Look one row down, to your left,” you instructed, turning slightly to gesture at it. You watched his head follow your orders, stopping when his eyes met the spine of his query.

“Ah,” he said in recognition, taking the book out of its place and beginning to look through it. His eyes lit up as a grin replaced his annoyance, obviously having found what he needed. He looked over his shoulder at you, holding up the book in triumph.

“How very astute of you,” he hummed, running his fingertips across the words in much the same way a blind man would. “You possess a sharp mind.”

Heat sparked in your neck at his words, rising to dust your cheeks. You turned back to your work to hide it, and the tiny smile that bloomed at the compliment.

“Comes with the territory,” you protested, allowing your voice to come out a little louder, a little stronger, so he might hear it better. “I’ve worked here for a long time.”

“I don’t believe experience wholly deserves the credit,” he shot back. “Though your humble nature is one to be admired.”

You might’ve scoffed, if you didn’t want to seem rude. You were just doing your job after all. Yet Ardyn seemed to be having a great deal of fun stroking your ego, making you flustered.

“You flatter me,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling the blush run deep through your skin.

“Only those who deserve it,” he cooed playfully, a self satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his eyes when he saw a hint of the redness that painted your flesh.

Gods, you’d thought he’d been flirty before, but if this wasn’t downright blatant then you didn’t know what was.

“How sweet,” you murmured shyly, though your smile could be heard in those soft words. Your chest fluttered with warmth, the brush of butterfly wings filling your stomach.

He chuckled, but said nothing more, returning to his current muse without fanfare, and leaving you to relish in his compliments.

A silence descended on the both of you again, and with it brought a tension not unfamiliar. Though it was different this time, not as sharp or suffocating as when he’d first appeared. It was…lighter. Warmer. The task of relieving it didn’t seem so impossible as the times before.

You stole a peek at him over your shoulder, watching him read. As your eyes flicked to the book in his hands, you were struck with inspiration.

“I never took you as someone who liked history,” you said, trying to open him up a little more. There was still much you didn’t know about him, and he seemed amicable enough for conversation.

He hummed in agreement, scanning over the tattered pages, used and held by so many.

“Just catching up on lost time…” He sighed dreamily, not bothering to take his eyes from the words. The faintest hint of longing graced his voice before he trailed off, lost in thought, the gentlest of smiles still present.

You pondered that, turning away as your hands moved of their own volition, sorting and categorizing. The way he spoke told you he wanted to be left to his devices, enjoying the simple pleasure of what he held. You were quite accustomed to the feeling, and the annoyance that came with interruptions, so you decided not to prove him further, not wanting to push him to undesired chit chat. Perhaps you’d kept him too long, a pang of guilt reverberating in your chest.

Behind you, Ardyn paused, subtly glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. He could sense the timidness he’d managed to break down forming again, much to his displeasure.

“Tell me…” He ventured, waiting for you to acknowledge him before continuing. You stopped, resting your hands on the lip of your cart as you turned to meet his eyes.

“Did you find my little remedy helpful at all? I must admit, I was a tad worried about you; you seemed quite ill.”

You froze, the hairs on your arms raising.

Shit.

You had to lie. He’d been rather proud of himself when he’d given you that medicine, claiming it to be the very best to suit your needs. He may find it insulting if you spoke of it in ill light, upturning your nose to his help, calling his judgment into question.

Although…perhaps you could afford to be honest with him. He was being much more gentle with you now, handling you like a lamb that was just separated from its mother. Like he knew how much of an anxious mess you were, and was trying to soothe the pain he knew to be there. Not like that first night, where he was playing a game you didn’t even know the rules to. The Ardyn before you now…he was softer.

And you did so hate having to lie…

“It helped a little,” you said sheepishly, locking eyes with the carpet. After all, it had put you to sleep rather effectively. “But I still had some nightmares. I appreciate you helping me out, though.” You added the last part in a single breath, realizing you might’ve sounded ungrateful.

Ardyn stared at you for a moment, then smirked, turning back to his book. “I’m simply glad it helped you at all,” he said in a pleased hum. “Though I fear these dreams of yours will not be banished so easily. It seems we both had an eventful evening last night.”

You looked up at that, surprised.

“You had nightmares too?”

He nodded stoically, yet the smile that clung to his lips portrayed his amusement. “Incessant thorns in the side, aren’t they?”

You huffed a groan in agreement. “You can say that again.”

Ardyn laughed, entertained by how fed up you sounded. You couldn’t help but chuckle too, that lightweight feeling coming back and lifting you.

“Oh, by the way,” you said suddenly, remembering something you’d wanted to say after your last meeting.

“I wanted to thank you, for that night. It was…nice of you. It made me feel safer.” You smiled at him, thinking back to the way he had led away Jeremy, how he’d walked you home (even if you hadn’t originally wanted him to). Things he hadn’t needed to, things you would’ve assumed he hadn’t the patience for, yet were done despite that, for your sake. The meaning behind those gestures wasn’t lost on you.

Ardyn was full on grinning at this point, but he was quick to close his eyes and shake his head, waving a hand dismissively.

“Oh please, I assure you it was no trouble at all. I am always honored to be of service.”

You scoffed playfully at him, the rest of your fragile shell slipping off. He was being cheeky, you both knew it, perhaps even having fun with this.

“Don’t be modest,” you protested. “It was more than I could ask for. Thank you.”

He chortled at your insistence. “What kind of chancellor would I be, if I allowed such heresy to occur under my guidance?”

You shook your head, knowing that there would be no reasoning with him, shifting back to your work so you could finish up this section. The books were finally all organized and accounted for.

“Really, how did you get him to leave?” You pressed, curious to the details of that night. “I’ve tried talking to him, my friends have tried talking to him. Nothing worked. Then you waltz in and he’s gone in an instant. What’s your secret?”

Ardyn eyed you, raising an incredulous brow. He then brought a hand up, holding one finger before his mouth.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

You groaned.

Of course he would use a cop out like that. Why weren’t you surprised?

“It’s not like you performed a trick; you saved me from a stalker. If you found a way to deal with him, I feel I deserve to know.”

“Hmm…” Ardyn considered that, rolling his head from side to side in contemplation. He then snapped his book shut with one hand, hardly looking at it as he shoved it back where he found it. Pivoting on his heel, he strolled right up to you in a few strides, using that same flowing gait you remembered. It made you turn to face him in question, your smile replaced with uncertainty.

“I believe…” he whispered, the deep rumble of his voice coating your ears like butter. He reached a hand underneath his coat, fiddling with a breast pocket. “…herein lies the answer.”

From his clothes he produced a small, white card. Between two fingers, he extended it to you, leaning forward subtly, bringing your faces a ruler's length from each other.

You blinked at the little piece of what looked like cardboard, extremely confused. Though of course, you took it, not wishing to offend him.

Whatever it was, it was most certainly not cardboard, made of unmistakable higher quality. On it, a golden border had been imprinted in a swirling, elegant design, with words of the same color pressed into the middle.

Ardyn Izunia

Chancellor of Niflheim

You squinted at it, incredulous, double checking to make sure that’s all that was inscribed.

“You gave me…a business card?” You looked up at him doubtfully.

Ardyn shared a toothy grin, nodding at the little thing. “Turn it over.”

You did as asked, twirling your wrist to peer at the back. There, you found a string of numbers…

Wait. Not just a string of numbers.

A phone number.

Your eyes widened.

“Y-your phone number?”

You met his eyes with shock to see Ardyn looking very pleased with himself. “My personal cell,” he confirmed. “Should the situation ever arise again, I am but a call away.”

The chancellor of the empire just gave you his number.

Your gaze fell back to the card, unsure how to respond. You held it in both hands, a precious thing you weren’t sure how to accept.

“But…surely you’re too busy to be making house calls. I’d hate to be a bother…”

You looked away, unable to meet his eyes again, your face growing flush. You followed the swooping curves of the inlaid design with your fingers, captured by the way the peaks and valleys met your skin.

There was a pause. Then, you watched as his hand slowly lifted, approaching, brushing his fingertips on the skin beneath your chin, just as he had that other night. Your flesh immediately sparked and ignited, responding to a call that sounded deep in your core. Your gaze was pulled upward, and when you met his gaze, you blinked. The warmth, the affection in it was unexpected.

“Never a bother, my dear.”

The fondness in his voice made your stomach churn, from apprehension or contentment you weren’t sure.

“I may be a busy man, but I can always find the time for you.”

…What were you to say to that, really?

You stared into his eyes, captivated by their color once more. Your cheeks grew hot, and thankfully, Ardyn did not hold your face for ransom this time, allowing you to turn away and conceal those wild emotions. You figured your cheeks now surely rivaled the deepest roses.

The chancellor gave you his number.

“…Ardyn, this is…thank you.” Delicately, you inserted the card into a side pocket, patting it fondly when you knew it was safe.

Ardyn placed a hand over his heart, his body bending in a short, theatrical bow. “Your knight in shining armor,” he proclaimed dramatically. “How I have always adored such dynamics.”

With that, he immediately evaporated the serious atmosphere, released and caged again with the ease of snapping fingers.

You failed to muffle a mild snort, trying to keep a bout of laughter inside. Your heart was beginning to swell, a warm, comforting softness that pulled the corners of your mouth upwards. He was being positively silly, and something about that made you relax. The distant tightness of tensed muscles ebbed away, and you were left feeling comfortable. Accepted.

Perhaps the chancellor isn’t so intimidating after all.

“Are you the man keeping chivalry alive on Eos?” You jabbed, feeling emboldened enough to tease. Since Ardyn had chosen to act as jester, it made your own tentative wit feel courageous enough to show itself.

Ardyn hummed a laugh through closed lips, standing up straight and shaking his head. “A rare art form, in these trying times, is it not?”

You chuckled. “Well, I appreciate you sharing this delicacy with me.”

He nodded, never taking his eyes off you. “Anything for you, my dear.”

Gods, the way he absolutely purred the word ‘dear’ made your knees want to buckle. One hand absentmindedly thumbed the card in your pocket, tracing its outline through your clothes fondly.

“…Although,” Ardyn hummed, barely concealing the way he eyed you. “Perhaps there is…some way for you to repay me.”

Your smile vanished, a sliver of prudence coiling around your ankles, making your heart beat faster.

…What could I possibly…?

“Please, permit me to spoil you with a night on my gil.” He spread his arms in invitation. “I assure you, it will be a most enchanting evening. It would be my pleasure.”

You came up short, your eyes going wide.

He…what?

Was he…asking you out.

Surely not.

“You…want to go out…with me?” You choked incredulously.

Ardyn was grinning rather smugly now. “What can I say?” His arms returned to his sides. “You intrigue me, dear. What an honor it would be to get to know you better.”

You blinked owlishly, slowly turning to look at the books left on your cart when you could no longer hold his gaze.

You’re being asked out.

By a politician no less.

No, not just a politician. A man who was very close to the Emperor.

“Are you…sure?” Your eyes moved up, searching his own for any indication he was being disingenuous. You weren’t privy to all the intricacies of holding an office, but shouldn’t he be worried about being seen with random people in public? A commoner, at that?

He placed a hand on his hip, entertained by your apprehension. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t, my dear.”

You supposed he had you there.

Really, though, you knew what you immediately wanted to say. Although, you also knew you weren’t the best at casual conversation, if the last few minutes was anything to go by. You weren’t great around alcohol either, and you figured he’d probably want to get drinks…

…But it was a Friday evening…

The whole weekend stretched before you, their countless possibilities offering a chance to unwind, to have a little bit of fun. A chance to forget the week that came before it.

Possibilities that could include him. Someone that, to be perfectly honest, you did find yourself fancying.

Screw it, you decided, ignoring the anxious part of your brain.

It wasn’t going to ruin this for you.

“Yeah…” you said, smiling timidly, yet fully, at him.

Yes, you wanted this.

“…I’d love to go with you.”

Ardyn absolutely beamed. “Wonderful. I shall bring my car around while you finish up here. I’ll await you outside.” He waved in parting as he turned and strode away, out of sight in a few footfalls.

You shook your head at his back, stifling a laugh. Never a dull moment with him.

The rest of your time in the library was spent with a goofy, excited smile plastered across your face.

———————————————————————

OKAY ITS HAPPENING. EVERYBODY STAY CALM

Wow…it’s been like…2 months since I posted a chapter for this 😩 I’m incredibly sorry to everyone that has been waiting. Writers block + seasonal depression + college is a fun combo. But really, thank you for your patience. I hope it was worth the wait 💕

I just reread this and I’m very happy with it. Credit to @savage-rhi for helping me come up with some ideas for extra movement, and for beta reading. @ticklemycucumber has also been an amazing beta throughout this work, so much love to them as well ❤️

#it’s finally here #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn #ardyn x you #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn x reader #ffxv ardyn #ffxv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ff15 #ardyn ffxv #fanfic #ffxv fanfic #my writing

[haeseolar]

[thread fic] 01.

hurt/comfort, kinnporsche: one of them gets injured, a reminder of their own mortality and the dangers of their job.

twitter link

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“Kinn!” Porsche screams, but it’s delayed, a fraction of a second too late, and the bullet rips through Kinn’s shoulder.

There’s a stillness in the air that Porsche has never felt before, like everything has stopped moving apart from the pounding heartbeat in his ears. His vision doubles, triples, eyes glazing over as he watches. Kinn’s face is blank with shock, until it’s not, and he collapses onto the floor with a finality that Porsche worries really is the end. It’s not - it can’t be - so he rushes over, skidding the final distance on his knees as he throws himself to the ground, scrabbling and clawing his way to reach Kinn.

He’s alive, and that alone should be enough to relinquish the terror holding him hostage, but it doesn’t. Porsche has never been this scared before - not when Kinn had been shot once before in the forest, not when he’s been staring down a barrel with nowhere else to go, not even when Chay was kidnapped was he ever this frantic and panicked that he could barely breathe and tears were already pouring down his cheeks without him even blinking. He always knew deep down that he’d get out alive in those situations, a gut feeling that kept him going, but this - this is something he can’t guarantee. 

Words stream out of his mouth, garbled and cut up with heaving sobs, pleas and begging to whoever will listen for help. He can hear it, the bodyguards rushing around to call for an ambulance and take down the attacker, but all he can feel is the steady warmth of blood under his hand as he applies pressure onto the wound and the soft, wheezing breaths that Kinn takes.

“Don’t cry,” Kinn slurs, his hand sluggishly trawling upwards to place over Porsche’s. The touch immediately soaks his white shirt sleeves in red, the colour leaching up underneath his blazer as it smears across his ghostly pale skin.

Porsche’s eyes snap back into focus, meeting his heavy-lidded gaze in disbelief, “How can I not?! You’re -” He’s cut off by another sob that wracks through his body.

He can’t do this - he can’t do anything without him now, there’s no Porsche without Kinn, not anymore. This job means a lot of things: living a life of what some would say is an undeserved luxury, way too much paperwork that piles up daily, dealing with local crooks to the big criminals that lurk in every street corner and establishment, but most of all, it means working with Kinn. They were invincible in his mind, a powerhouse of domination over Thailand’s underworld, standing back to back to watch and work seamlessly around each other as they went.

Kinn huffs wryly, a sound so alive that it pulls Porsche more out of that horrible place in his brain.

“It’s just a shoulder wound, darling,” Kinn’s voice is stronger than he thought it’d be, and he smooths his fingers over Porsche’s. The action is jittery and slow, but it’s still there - proof that he’s fine, holding on and waiting. “I’ve had worse, remember?”

“Shut up,” Porsche snaps, but then the alternative of Kinn being silent suddenly seems much worse, “Keep going. Talk to me.” He presses harder on the wound and tries not to cringe at the influx of blood that pools out at the pressure. It’s a good thing that he can feel it slowing down, the majority of it now just from being caught between the fibres of his clothing.

“Porsche, sweetheart, love, it’s okay -”

“You shouldn’t be the one comforting me!”

Kinn smiles at him, soft and delicate, the parts of his eyes that Porsche can see between hooded lids are almost dreamlike, caught between dewy heartache and adoration, “Why not? You’re sad.”

It really is that simple for him, Porsche realises, that even when there’s a potential he could bleed out right then and there, he still worries for Porsche first. 

“I’m fine,” Porsche says, the lump in his throat is no longer from fear, but from love. “You’ll be fine too, we both will.” It’s true - Porsche knows it when they finally get Kinn on a stretcher, still awake and alert as they rush him off to the hospital to be treated, to be mended and fixed and put back together again so that they can continue on their journey side by side, hand in hand.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche fic #kinnporsche the series #kpts #my writing

[noffy96]

Kustardweek Day 2

Wrote this on the train yesterday. Decided to use this prompt to add to my Mer Au! So enjoy!

Sorry if it isn't as polished as my other work. But i am still really proud

Photo surprise

Word count: 778

Chapter (1) (Complete)

Chapter Summary:

“How do you think they come up with this shit?”

Red mumbled with a bit of a slur, and he tilted his head back to indicate he had heard him. Letting out a questioning noise. Red pointed at the tv, that he had tuned out over an hour ago. He had just focused on the gentle breathing beneath him, slowly drifting him into a low slumber.

or

Sans and Red, see a commercial about a mermaid. After a comment from Red, Sans gets a idea

made for kustardweek2023

Link here to AO3

Or continue below the read-more line

He yawned deeply and took another gulp from his beer can. Sinking back more into Red’s hold.

It had been too long since they had done this. If there was one thing the ocean doesn’t have it’s good good alcohol. Drinking with Red had become one of his favorite activities when he spent on the surface. But now with him going back and forth for the bi-weekends. He couldn’t risk being hungover for the long track back. Not to mention Papyrus would yell his head off if he did.

“How do you think they come up with this shit?”

Red mumbled with a bit of a slur, and he tilted his head back to indicate he had heard him. Letting out a questioning noise. Red pointed at the tv, that he had tuned out over an hour ago. He had just focused on the gentle breathing beneath him, slowly drifting him into a low slumber.

But he refocused and saw that it was playing a commercial about an animated movie was playing. It seemed to be about a mermaid that gave up her voice for legs. Or something of the like.

“Aint that based on those old human tales, before the monsters came back into society?”

He felt Red shrug, his hand scratching away some dirt absentmindedly

“Just wondering what they think we have to give something up”

He gave a shrug jostling Red’s head on his shoulder who gave an angry grumble

“Don’t fucking know dude. Humans are weird. For them apparently, a horse with a horn counts as mystical! So I can’t fucking tell what’s normal for them”

Red gave a sage nod and seemed to absent-mindedly nuzzle his face closer and got a small kiss on his neck. And they continued to watch their show.

“You ever seen this movie?”

Red mumbled later when the next rum of commercials was airing, at the same ad, was playing.

“Once” He gave an answer

“You tried doing some of the stuff in it?” He snorted

“Like what, her twist and loops in the water? Or jumping out of the water? “

Red shook his head

“That one scene on the rock, with the singing after the prince woke up and is walking away”

He Frowned “Don’t have much of a singing voice, so No. Also, someone could spot me!!”

Red just nuzzled in deeper and mumbled, probably not realizing he was talking out loud.

“Bet you would look pretty though”

He fiddled with the camera. Double and triple checking it was Steady. And the camera angle was right. Fiddling with the settings, the timer would take pictures every couple of seconds. And once he was happy with everything. He sighed deeply, fixing the clear straps on his shoulders, and dove down to get into position. …. The things he did for his love

He didn’t make a big deal out of it. It took some planning to print the pictures at the local library without being spotted. He earned Edge a huge ass favor for that one. As soon as they were done he slipped them into a blue envelope and then hid them between some of Red’s hoodies.

He had intended for Red to find in between the meetings. But that morning, when he rolled over to make a flirty comment as Red grabbed some clothes. It had slipped out and saw Red pick it up. As he took out the pictures his boyfriend's face coloured into his namesake. Also, his eyelights grew to almost overtake his whole sockets.

“Wha….How…Why?” Red finally managed to Sutter out.

He shrugged helplessly his own face still Blue

‘Just wanted to give you something nice’

Red stalked back over to the bed. Quickly casing him in against the mattress

‘It’s very nice indeed

And Red crushed their teeth together in a harsh kiss. Wasting no time at summoning his tongue and licking at the seem of his mouth begging for entrance. After a few seconds of sitting there stunned he started to return the hungry kisses.

When they finally broke apart Red, spoke against his teeth

“I knew you’d be fucking pretty Before crashing for months together once more with no information of leaving the bed any time soon.

On the ground lay the picture he had taken. It was a picture of Sans in his mer form. Just like the mermaid girls of the movie sitting on a rock with a big wave splashing behind him. While wearing a replica of the shell top. A light flush on his face, as the sun hit him

Later it would be put in a special album Red keeps for special memories.

#kustard #kustardweek #kustardweek2023 #undertale #underfell #undertale sans #underfell sans #noffy's writing #fanfic

[dumfanting]

See You Again ch 3

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

Rating: E, explicit

Warnings: makeouts, confessions, dry humping, outercourse

Notes: f reader, pov second person, present tense

1913 words

I have a tendency to start outlining and wind up finished entire chapters without really intending to; that happened here. It also didn’t even remotely go like this while I was planning the story out, but hey, sometimes stories write themselves. (Also I just noticed the accidental Sweeney Todd reference, whoops)

F reader/ Gregor

Now that he’s walked you home, Gregor spends the night.

It’s dark in your apartment, but you remedy this by quickly flipping a switch near the front door, which illuminates the studio style space comfortably with soft yellow-white light. The place is kind of a mess, and in any other circumstance you’d be embarrassed by it, but a few dirty dishes are the farthest thing from your mind at the moment. You’ve started to tremble again as you double and then triple check the lock on the front door. Once you’re satisfied with that, you quickly dart around the room making absolutely sure that the windows and balcony door are locked up tightly.

You pass Gregor, about to check the lock on the door a fourth time, but he steps in front of you and stops you. Cautiously, he very loosely holds you by the shoulders and speaks softly.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe here,” he says, but you can’t hear him over the panic rising in your chest. You look through him, babbling incoherently and shifting uneasily on your feet. You glance between the doors and windows, and he notices that your breathing is quick and shallow. Taking a chance, he moves a hand and gently cups the side of your face, making you look at him. He says your name a few times, until your eyes focus on him.

“Stop,” he says. You open your mouth to protest, but he surprises you by softly holding a finger to your lips, making your heart race in an entirely different way and quieting you.

“No one is going to hurt you, not while I’m around,” he says firmly. “I promise, you’re safe with me,” he continues, moving his hand away from your mouth and to the back of your neck. The warmth of his palm on your skin grounds you.

You meet his eyes, see something fierce in the way he’s protectively focused on you, and you believe him. But, overcome by fear and adrenaline, you crumble into his chest, sobbing. He tucks your head under his chin and holds you tightly, swaying ever so slightly for a while. When you hiccup, he moves you back from him enough to see your face.

Gregor glances around your apartment and sees that you don’t have a couch, so, after catching your eye again, he jerks his head at the next best thing: your bed. You nod at him, chuckling weakly. He steers you towards it and sits on top of the blankets, back against the wall, while you curl into him. Over the next few minutes, your tears dry and the shakes taper off into an occasional twitch. You break the silence with a halfhearted laugh, and he peers down at you with a look of mild confusion.

“I want to say something snappy about you getting me into bed so soon but I can’t really think of anything,” you explain, your voice strained as you shrug at him. Your ear is still against his chest, so when he laughs you can feel it, and the sensation is deeply comforting, prompting you to relax into him a little more.

“Yeah, you could at least let me take you on a date first,” he says, smirking at you. You sit up and look thoughtfully at him.

“I’d like that,” you say, hoping the light is low enough to hide the flush that spreads across your cheeks as you speak.

“Wait, you would?” Gregor says, taken aback by your words. You nod at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and watch as he seems to think it over.

After a few seconds, he slides closer to you and cups your cheek again. You sigh, content, and relax into his hand, closing your eyes.

The next thing you know, his lips are pressed against yours, almost shyly. You kiss him back, and you both make a kind of ‘oh thank god’ sound as you grab his shoulders and pull him closer to you. The kiss intensifies, and he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You oblige, quickly opening up for him. When you taste each other for the first time, his hands slide to your hips and you climb into his lap, straddling him. He starts to tug at the hem of your shirt, but abruptly stops himself, pulling back from you.

“We shouldn’t,” he says. In response to your confused face, he continues: “considering what you’ve just been through, you probably aren’t thinking clearly.” You frown at him and lean back.

“What, are you saying I wouldn’t want you otherwise? Because I do,” you say, almost offended. “I… have for a while, actually,” you continue, and your voice goes soft, but you maintain eye contact. You pause for a second, then smile softly at him. “I won’t push it. Besides, you should take me out first, you said so yourself,” you say.

He’s quiet for a moment, and despite the way he shakes his head at you, you can’t miss the way his face lights up. He leans forward, kissing you again, softly this time. You pull away, then he shifts forward and presses his forehead into yours, closing his eyes and breathing you in. The intimacy of it makes you shudder, and you follow suit.

The two of you stay like that for a while, until the hour-chime of the chrono on his wrist pulls you out of the comfortable quiet. Reluctantly, he shifts back away from you.

“It’s late,” he says. He glances over at you, his eyes searching yours. “Do you still want me to…?” he trails off.

“Stay with me, Gregor. Please,” you whisper, taking his hand into yours. He leans forward and softly kisses you again.

“Alright mesh’la, I’ll stay,” he says, whispering back.

With that decided, you slide off of the bed, grabbing something to sleep in before ducking into the refresher. Once the door shuts, Gregor turns and flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and grinning to himself. After a minute or two, the refresher door opens, and he sits back up to find you wearing nothing but your panties and an oversized shirt. You catch him staring and can’t help but giggle. He shakes himself, looking at you apologetically as he rubs at the back of his neck. You hop onto the bed and peck his cheek, then he gets to his feet and takes his turn in the refresher.

While he’s in there, you quickly double check all of the locks, and just before you reach the light switch, Gregor returns, and you see that he’s stripped down to just his boxers. You aren’t subtle at all as you eye him up, then shut the lights off. You crawl into bed, and despite the darkness, you can see him standing awkwardly at the foot. You shake your head at him.

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor,” you say, scooting to the side and patting the space next to you on the mattress.

“You sure?” he says. You nod, then realize he probably can’t see you.

“I’m sure. Come on, we should get some sleep,” you say. He hesitates for just a second, then shrugs and slips between the sheets to lie down with you.

You notice how stiff he is, and roll over to face him. “You can relax, you know,” you say, smirking at him. “I won’t bite.”

He laughs and turns to face you, propping his head up with an elbow and resting his other hand gingerly on your waist. You scoot forward enough for your chests to touch, then hold a hand to the side of his head. You briefly run your fingers through his hair, and he makes a relaxed humming sound. His eyes meet yours, and less than a second later, his lips are on yours again. You sigh into him, grip his shoulders, and turn over with him so that he’s now above you. He allows this, and moves his hands to your hips. Even through the cotton of your shirt, his touch burns like fire, and you want more.

The kiss deepens, and you test the waters, casually shifting your legs open to make room for him between them. He notices this, and settles down just above you, hovering there on his knees. Your tongues dance, and as you taste each other again, you move enough to bump upwards into him. He breaks the kiss with a groan, and looks at you as if trying to decide if you did that on purpose or not. You snake your arms under his and wrap them around his upper back, kissing him and bumping upwards into him with a little more energy. He softly gasps against your mouth, and you repeat the motion a third time, with more enthusiasm.

Taking the obvious hint, Gregor straightens out his legs and grinds into you at an angle against your panties, making you groan softly. Moving instinctively, you open your legs wider before hooking your knees around his thighs, pulling him closer to you. So close in fact, that you can feel how hard you’ve made him, and you giggle. You slip your hands along his sides, coming to rest at the small of his back, holding him tightly against you while you bump into him again.

He curses under his breath before kissing you once more, his hips jerking against yours, to the point where he can faintly feel how wet you are through the thin layers of fabric that separate you. He meets your eyes, and seeing the desire there spurs him to reposition himself. His hard cock is straining against the confines of his boxers, and he shifts his hips so that the bulge is butting up directly against your pussy. He shifts again, making your panties rub against your clit, and you whine.

You both hump into and against each other, quickly finding a rhythm, and with a particularly strong snap of his hips, you feel your peak approaching fast. You slip a hand between your legs, desperate for relief, but Gregor stops you by grabbing both of your hands with his, interlacing your fingers, and holding them up roughly even with your shoulders, all the while keeping pace without slowing.

He kisses you feverishly, grinding down against you, and you suddenly break away from his lips, gasping and whining his name.

“Oh, f-fuck, Gregor, please-,” you say, right on the edge.

“Well,” he says, chuckling darkly at you. “Since you said ‘please’,” he says, crushing his lips against yours while simultaneously driving himself against you perfectly.

You come hard, holding his hands in a white-knuckle grip while your legs quiver. This pushes him over the edge, and just before he cums, Gregor shifts himself downward and away from your hot core, grunting through his teeth as he does. You’re faintly aware of a small wet spot forming near your knee, but you’re too far gone from your orgasm to really care.

A split second later, he’s collapsed into your chest, his head resting over your pounding heart and his hands easing their grip on yours. Your body relaxes, and you slip your hands free of his. You grip him by the shoulders, and roll the two of you over onto your sides, facing one another. He softly smiles at you, then gives you a soft kiss before pulling you closer into his arms.

As you fall asleep, you’ve never felt safer.

Taglist: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina @jedi-hawkins @griffedeloup (sorry the tag isn’t working!)

To be added to or removed from this list, reply to this post.

#my fics #Gregor #sya #series

[anexlomara]

TOTK doesn't really feel like a sequel.

Now don't get me wrong, it's an amazing game. Within the first 5 or so hours of playing, it shot up to my top 3 games of all time, just behind Portal 2 and Super Mario Galaxy 2. Guess I have a thing for sequels. That said, TOTK functions less like a sequel to BOTW and more like a remix, taking what BOTW laid as groundwork to change and rework into a wholly new experience.

Now TOTK as a game has its roots as DLC for BOTW, with the development team having too many ideas to put into the game as DLC, so they decided to start on a whole new game. This presents an opportunity to take what worked with BOTW and build off of it and to take some of the criticisms of it and rework those aspects, to varying degrees of success. For example, BOTW's massive open world was both a source of praise and complaint from the audience, with many praising the new direction for the series and some complaining that the world was too empty with not enough to do in the world. The development team for TOTK seems to have taken both statements to heart, effectively doubling or tripling the world size with the additions of the sky islands and the Depths, but also reworking the world to have more interesting places to explore, like the myriad of cave systems and mines. This is what many sequels attempt to do, double down on what worked and fix what didn't about the previous installment.

But TOTK doesn't just do this, it also removes aspects of the world that BOTW went to great lengths to introduce as integral to the world. The Sheikah Tribe is a major piece of the story of BOTW, with its ancient tech being the catalyst for the setting and how the player/Link interacts mechanically with the game via the Sheikah Slate. Their towers are how you acquire the game's map, their Guardians are a constant threat, and their Divine Beasts serve as the games dungeons. In TOTK, while the Sheikah Tribe exists as an entity, their technology and role in the story are massively reduced, with incredibly little of their tech remaining in the world with no explanation as to where it went. Now this is obviously to make room for the new focus on the Zonai and their technology, but without an explanation, it feels like there is a lack of context/information to what happened in between the two games.

So what do I mean by TOTK feels like a remix. Well, it's what it shares with BOTW and the changes to what they share that gives me this feeling. Take the Shrines for example, in BOTW, they are Sheikah technology rising out of the earth, as most Sheikah tech was unearthed; but in TOTK, they are now Zonai tech, falling from the sky with the coming of the sky islands, and not only that, they are in new locations, resetting the puzzles and exploration needed to find them. For another example, the powers Link acquires in TOTK are similar, but differ from the ones in BOTW. Ultra Hand is incredibly similar to BOTW's Magnesis, but allows much more freedom in with you can interact with and how. None of the other powers have good equivalents across games however, with the dev team seemingly wanting to try new ideas with how Link can interact with the world.

As said at the top of this post/essay, TOTK is an amazing game. It expands on both the lore and mechanics of BOTW and the Zelda franchise as a whole. If BOTW was a testing ground for a new way to play Zelda, TOTK is the logical next step, remixing and reworking the lore, mechanics, and world of BOTW into something wholly new yet incredibly familiar.

#legend of zelda #zelda #totk #tears of the kingdom #long post #essay #botw #totk spoilers

[terrence-silver]

in an vampire alternate universe, set in KK3 Terry as a vampire obviously, do you think Kreese would let him drink his blood?

In a vampire AU, Kreese has probably been letting him drink his blood since Vietnam.

Lets say something inexplicable happens during combat.

Little Twig contracts something he shouldn't.

Could've been another frenzied soldier lounging at him and biting in a flash of violence; could've been another American. Maybe even someone they knew. Could've been an injury infected with something putrid, throwing young Terry into a fever he barely survives in the jungle, slowing down his platoon and having Captain Turner command Kreese to leave Silver, serving as a weak link, behind multiple times, which he doesn't, but I digress. How it happens is less important than what happens later. Terry is somehow different when he recovers, unable to bear sunlight, landing him in an infirmary several times and nearly having him sent back home and discharged (and only upon his desperate insistence does this not happen), relegating himself to dangerous night watches instead (the army camp doctors diagnose him with an eye tear and the sensitivity to light due to exposure to an explosion or a grenade, which of course is the furthest thing from the truth), not feeding properly which makes him even scrawnier and he hungers and craves blood, and for the longest time, both John and Terry think these are simply the after effects of Terry being shell-shocked, or rather, traumatized from his time in combat. They've heard a whole bunch of crazy and awful stories of what happens to soldiers who stay too long in the bush, how they get that thousand yard stare, like they've seen hell, appearing not quite so human in the aftermath...so, maybe this isn't all that different? Maybe Terry is simply ill and this will pass? Maybe it is treatable? Regardless, John is a ride or die in the most unhinged way possible --- the type that can keep a secret no matter how outlandish seeming that secret may be. The way he sees it, his friend ain't well (John might even blame himself for not protecting Twig from whatever happened to him out there), and if some blood will help his case, then, goodness gracious, what is solidarity between brothers-in-arms if not some of that same blood collected in a canteen every now and then so nobody sees? Licking the hunting knife clean concealed from the others? Hunting animals in the wild and feasting? It is war. The horrible thing about it is, there's boys out there during far worse than practicing bizarre dietary choices.

Decades later, it is a habit of Terry's; fully embraced and enjoyed.

He's gotten stronger, and yet instead of aging, he only grows more beautiful.

Meanwhile, John looks infinitely older somehow.

Turns out, it wasn't gas tear induced trauma, it wasn't shock, it wasn't an unusual practice between soldiers or a hazing amongst brethren when one of you makes the other bite into an animal's liver or drink the blood of a slaughtered snake, it wasn't anything therapy could fix or even necessarily explain, least of all, cure. It was vampirism. In the classical sense, yes. Mix that with the coke Terry takes in the 80's and the liquor, the tobacco and all the vices, the blood seems like a mundane fact of life, but he has tasted John before. The first blood he ever tried was John's, as a fealty of friendship and devotion; the man not only saved his life countless times from the crossfire, he ensured Terry wouldn't starve either, taking an situation unlike any other and running with it, making that life debt between them double and even triple. If anything, it wouldn't just stop at the occasional feeding of reunion 'for old time's sake' every now and when Terry's and John's paths cross because I can genuinely see Terry wishing to repay every good deed of John's by actually turning him. Why not have his best friend for all eternity with him? By his side? Why not ensure they're one and the same? Maybe this gift came to Terry in Vietnam for a reason? Maybe it was meant to be shared? Maybe it was a sign? John would be extremely reluctant to accept because hey, he is old fashioned in a great many ways and one of those ways is that a person's life should be lived as it is meant to be lived; being born, aging and dying. Terry doesn't quite agree, finding the notion stubborn, prideful and limited on John's behalf. Doesn't agree with it at all, actually. He has found a way to control the uncontrollable; youth, life and the passing years themselves. If anything, he'd be adamant about it with John for ages, panicking internally, every time John's birthday rolls around and the man is a year older than before, and then starts looking it too, all until John is beginning to appear like a mature man and Terry has stayed the same...for a while now. The tragedy and angst of Terry realizing he is losing his best friend to mortality and then and only then he starts viewing what he brought back from Vietnam as a cruse.

#terry silver #john kreese #cobra kai #cobra husbands #vampire au #halloween #tw; vietnam #tw; war allegory #terry silver twig #angst #kk3

[introvert-celeste]

How do you think Season 2 will end, and do you think what will happen will continue onto Season 3?

In no particular order, I predict that:

-The Day of Unity will be successful and season 2 will end in the human realm.

-The draining spell won't be entirely successful in that it won't kill anyone, but all the covened witches will end up powerless.

-The human realm will act sort of like a void for the magic and as long as the Titan is in the human realm, it's losing its magical essence. So, not only will the witches lose their inherent magic, they'll also lose their one last connection to magic via glyphs if the Day of Unity isn't reversed.

-Alador and the kids will catch up with Kikimora, save Luz, and attempt to crash the Day of Unity/protect the other rebels, but it won't work in the end

-King will contact the Collector and make a deal with them to defeat Belos, but the Collector will end up double- and triple-crossing both King and Belos and wreck havoc

-Alternatively, Belos knows about King via their mutual connection to the Collector and fully expects King to be right where he wants him when the moment arises (either way, I still believe the Collector will double-cross him). Based on some promo art I've seen for the finale, it appears King will get a crack his skull, meaning that some of his blood may be used as a final component on the door.

-The Collector will either possess or capture Luz. They're alone, desperate for a playmate who won't lie to them, and Luz is an awesome friend

-The Collector will rip the curse out of Eda and take back the owl beast (a new friend and their old pet all in the same day?!)

-Eda won't feel better with the curse gone and will do what she can to get it back

-Season 3 will start with everyone trying to rescue Luz, King, and whoever else from the Collector

-At some point during season 3, we'll get a flashback of the Wittebane brothers' backstory, at least featuring the information that we're lacking, i.e. what happened between them and what happened to Philip that caused him to start consuming palismen

-The gang will need Camila and Vee's assistance to rescue Luz, or Luz will need their assistance to stop the Collector somehow

-The series will end with a permanent link to the demon realm so that Luz will be able to continue her magic studies and stay connected with her new friends, girlfriend, and found family.

-Not so much a prediction as it is a theory/analysis, but I think that Camila has struggled ever since her husband died, especially when it comes to Luz. I believe that her dad was the one who really understood her, that she and her dad were very similar to each other, and Camila struggled to give Luz the kind of support she needed growing up. She became overprotective to prevent Luz from being judged, but instead all she managed to do was make Luz feel ashamed of who she is. Seeing that Luz chose to lie to her and live somewhere else entirely, where she's currently trapped and in constant danger, makes her feel like she failed so much as a mother that Luz would rather be anywhere else than with her. I hope that Camila will see how happy Luz is with all of her new friends, but I also hope that she knows how much Luz loves and missed her, and how sorry she is.

-Hunter will be the one who finally defeats Belos (not necessarily kill him, but make it so he'll never hurt anyone again). Just a little poetic justice, considering Belos killed all of Hunter's predecessors.

-The Collector will either be trapped away again or destroyed.

ALSO just for the record, I don't think anyone will die. If anything, they might make it look like someone dies at the end of season 2, and King seems to be the most likely candidate.

Bonus indulgent predictions because I can:

-RAEDA KISS RAEDA KISS RAEDA KISS

-Lumity date in the human realm blease

-Gus finally makes contact with the giraffes

-Hunter will officially change his name to Caleb to finally cut ties with his past identity as the Golden Guard

-Darius will be the one to take Hunter in, but the Clawthornes will consider him part of the family (based on the theory that Wittebro married a Clawthorne)

#the owl house #asks #toh spoilers #emperor belos #king clawthorne #toh the collector #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #camila noceda #toh hunter #and other characters I don't feel like tagging #toh theories

[f1]

Mercedes deficit to Red Bull has doubled or tripled admits Wolff | 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix

Mercedes will tackle the question of how to respond to their poor start to the 2023 season “straight at the beginning of the week” said team principal Toto Wolff after Sunday’s race. The team’s hopes of shrinking its deficit to Red Bull were shattered in Bahrain where the reigning champions scored a dominant one-two. The first Mercedes home, driven by Lewis Hamilton, finished fifth and was 50 seconds behind winner Max Verstappen. After beginning last year in uncompetitive shape, Mercedes regained ground over the course of the season and took its sole grand prix win of 2022 in the penultimate race. But Wolff admitted much of that progress has been reversed at the start of this season. “When you look at where we were at the end of the season when it seemed like we caught up a lot and it was just a matter of which circuit suited us and which not,” Wolff told media including RaceFans. “I think we’ve almost doubled if not tripled the gap to Red Bull. And this is what we need to look at.” Hamilton admitted Mercedes had the fourth-quickest car in Bahrain but Wolff said the sheer scale of their deficit to Red Bull is more troubling. “Everything in between – the Ferrari, the Aston – that’s just a sideshow. “Having said that, I mean, what Aston Martin was able to achieve is a good inspiration because they came back from two seconds off the pace to be the second-quickest team, probably, on the road. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free “With us, everything’s bad. The single-lap pace was still good but in the race we saw the consequences. To put it bluntly, it’s just we were lacking downforce and when you’re lacking downforce you’re sliding the tyres, and when you’re sliding the tyres you’re going backwards.” Earlier in the weekend Wolff admitted the team will have to rethink its entire car concept in order to produce a machine which can compete for wins. “As a matter of fact the gap is very big and in order to catch up you need to make big steps, not the conventional ones by adding a few points [of downforce] every week because everybody else is going to do that.” Mercedes have “lost a year in development” compared to their rivals, said Wolff. “In order to have a steeper development curve you just need to take these decisions. “As I said before Aston Martin took that decision and they came back strong. So if we start from our base, maybe we can come back strong and chase the Red Bulls. That’s the ambition.” Wolff confirmed the team realised soon after its launch that it wouldn’t be competitive at the start of this season and has begun appraising alternative designs. “We’ve looked at other ideas and haven’t stood still,” he said. “And that’s not only since two weeks when we saw that we haven’t been able to close the gap, but we’ve done it since a while just to be open-minded. Still with an emphasis on making this work, obviously, but we’ve already looked at different concepts.” Bringing the F1 news from the source RaceFans strives to bring its readers news directly from the key players in Formula 1. We are able to do this thanks in part to the generous backing of our RaceFans Supporters. By contributing £1 per month or £12 per year (or the equivalent in other currencies) you can help cover the costs involved in producing original journalism: Travelling, writing, creating, hosting, contacting and developing. We have been proudly supported by our readers for over 10 years. If you enjoy our independent coverage, please consider becoming a RaceFans Supporter today. As a bonus, all our Supporters can also browse the site ad-free. Sign up or find out more via the links below: Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix Browse all 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix articles via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #Mercedes’ deficit to Red Bull has “doubled or tripled” #admits Wolff | 2023 Bahrain Grand Prix #Formula 1

[sultanaislammow]

We sold 20 million yuan on Douyin, and Meituan saw that the platform’s deduction points were directly halved.

▶ The person in charge of the local life business launch of the chain restaurant brand Sichuan Guo No. 1. The company’s GMV generated on Douyin last year: more than 20 million yuan

We are a local hot pot restaurant chain brand in Jiangsu, with dozens of hot pot restaurants in northern Jiangsu, Hunan, and Anhui.

Last year, the epidemic made it impossible to dine in, so we posted a self-pickup hot pot set meal on Douyin. Through the promotion of experts, we were able to place an average of 1,000 orders a day. The Douyin platform’s HE Tuber deduction is 2.5%, while Meituan Waimai’s fee ratio exceeds 30% including deductions, traffic and delivery fees.

In May last year, the company started selling goods on Douyin. At that time, we thought of many ways to activate private domain traffic, including asking employees to post in Moments, tweet on public accounts, and guide consumption in offline stores. So in the first live broadcast, the hot pot set sold for about 30,000 yuan.

During this period, the Douyin service provider persuaded us to sign an annual sales contract of 20 million yuan. In the case of non-annual frames, the Douyin platform will charge merchants a commission of 2.5% of the actual write-off amount. If you sign the annual frame, you can get half of the commission back. For example, for a GMV of 20 million yuan, the actual write-off amount is 10 million yuan, and the difference between annual and non-annual deduction points is 125,000 yuan.

Things got a little messy this year.

This year, Douyin has become very anxious and asked us to triple the annual target to 60 million yuan. My understanding is that Douyin wants to quickly expand its user base. Our stores are in second- and third-tier cities and have limited user base. Once the annual sales volume doubles, the store guidance will become very strong, and the original offline transactions will have to be moved online. For brands, it is impossible for users to be deeply bound to a certain platform. In the end, customers will flow to the platform, so they did not sign.

During this period, Douyin’s BD (Business Development) also went through several rounds. Their feedback is that in order to reduce labor costs, they will not reserve their own people on the front line in depth, so internally they are often eliminated from the bottom, and the Douyin BD that we connect with changes frequently. Later, in order to reduce personnel expenses, Douyin began to cultivate local service providers. In Xuzhou, where I am located, Douyin allows people with live broadcast capabilities and store operation capabilities to help merchants open blue V, become experts to visit stores, launch new products, and conduct live broadcasts.

However, the emergence of local service providers has increased the operating costs of stores, especially the phenomenon of arbitrary charging.

First of all, the service provider will charge a pre-service fee, which varies according to the size of the merchant. As far as I know, the service fee is generally 20,000-80,000 yuan. In addition, service providers will also charge commissions for live broadcasts, and the quotation is generally 10%-15% of the sales write-off amount. We have run Douyin ourselves and understand the rules behind the scenes, so we rarely cooperate with service providers.

The fees for experts to visit the store are not low either. The basic fee for a single cooperation with a leading expert is generally around 5,000 yuan. In addition, the product link below the short video of the expert visiting the store will also charge a commission of 5%-15% based on the transaction volume of the product. Our platform deduction on Meituan is 8%-10%, which doesn’t seem low, but compared to Douyin, it’s actually about the same.

This year, Meituan’s attitude toward us has changed significantly. Perhaps it is because it has realized that leading brands have invested heavily in Douyin, and has gradually diluted its investment and operations in Meituan.

In the past, when we wanted to do activities on Meituan, the city manager refused directly when he heard that the discount was not strong, and there was never much policy on deducting points. In April this year, Meituan directly reduced our platform deduction points by half.

Two days ago, the regional director of Meituan came to me specifically and said that he would "accompany the company's growth" and "create a benchmark catering business." He also said that he would fight for resources for me and do a live broadcast, which I could not even imagine before.

#HETuber #Music #Gaming #Entertainment #Science And Technology

[prophet-one]

Balfour: or how the mess in Gaza was created.

Balfour Declaration - Wikipedia

To unravel a mess like Gaza, it helps to understand the full history of how Gaza became Gaza. A lot of news articles are focused on the history of Hamas and the relationship with Netanyahu. I am more fascinated by what happened before Hamas ever existed.

Israël was basically created through the Balfour declaration. Which is a story of double, triple, quadruple betrayals by the British Government in order to gain US support during WWI. Yes, in 1917 the British caused the mess we see in Gaza today. The Wikipedia link has the "known" story of this betrayal.

The are a few interesting tidbits that I get out of the Balfour story.

Turkey ruled most of the middle east for over 400 years, before the British drove them out during WWI; which is why the Turks still take an active interest in the region. I suspect many Turks feel the entire region still belongs to Turkey.

The countries of Lebanon, Israel, Jordon, Syria, Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, UAE, and Yemen are artificial entities created to satisfy political expediency. The people in these areas had no say in what their "country" would be, what the borders were, or how they would be governed. They were pawns in the European game of Conquest.

The borders of all of these "countries" were arbitrarily drawn up by the British with zero comprehension of what that looked like "on the ground". These borders were later rubber stamped by the UN to give the countries some "air" of authenticity. We can see the problems this creates today, with the Kurds. The Kurdish "nation" is divided up between Turkey, Syria, Iraq, and Iran instead of being consolidated into one country (another total fail of the UN).

The Zionist movement used the Balfour Declaration as motivation to colonize Palestine. This is a principle that is still at work today, with the West Bank settlements. The settlements colonize the West Bank, creating the justification to incorporate the West Bank into Israel as per the Balfour Declaration.

The borders of Israel are pure fiction; even though the UN ratified certain borders, those borders were based on nothing... or rather the assumption that the Jewish population in Palestine would be eradicated by the Arabs and the whole "Jewish" problem would go away. The Israelis kyboshed that plan by not being eradicated in 1948.

There was never any plan for a two state solution; the British plan was for an Arab state with in which there would be a Jewish minority. The Zionist interpreted the British plan as there would be a Jewish state within the Palestine region (which at that time included what is now Lebanon, Syria, and Jordon). The reality seems that the Brits had no actual plan, they were just playing the Arabs and Zionist off each other to undermine the Turks. At some point the British Cabinet realized what a mess they had made (after WWI was over) and zigged and zagged all over the place to try and make it right... which both the Arabs and Zionist made sure the "new plan" never happened.

So here we are today. Palestinians "assumed" the Zionist would be wiped out in 1948 and the whole of Palestine would be theirs once again, with not a single living Jew in sight. But, the British did beat the Turks and take over Palestine. The British did "promise" a "home" for Zionists. The Zionists did colonize a portion of Palestine. The Zionists did create the state of Israel. The Israelis did survive the 1948 war. The Israelis did survive every subsequent war. And Hamas is still "living the dream" that 1948 never happened.

#israel #palestine #gaza #hamas

[cprindianapolis]

Essential CPR Training in Indianapolis: Learn Life-Saving Techniques Today

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where someone suddenly collapsed and stopped breathing? It's a scary thought, but knowing how to perform CPR (Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation) could mean the difference between life and death. In Indianapolis, CPR training is not just a skill; it's an essential tool that everyone should have in their toolbox. Whether you're a concerned parent, a responsible coworker, or simply a caring citizen, learning CPR can empower you to save lives. This article will guide you through the importance of CPR training in Indianapolis and how it equips you with life-saving techniques.

1. What is CPR?

Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, or CPR, is a life-saving technique used in emergencies when someone's heartbeat or breathing has stopped. It involves a combination of chest compressions and rescue breaths to circulate oxygenated blood throughout the body, keeping vital organs functioning until professional medical help arrives.

2. Why is CPR Training Important?

Imagine being able to take immediate action if a loved one, a coworker, or even a stranger experiences sudden cardiac arrest. CPR training equips you with the skills and confidence to intervene effectively in such critical moments. Rapid administration of CPR can double or even triple the chances of survival, making you a vital link in the chain of survival.

3. The Basics of CPR

Performing CPR may seem daunting, but it's simpler than you think. First, ensure the person is lying on their back on a firm surface. Kneel beside them, place the heel of your hand on their chest just above the center, and interlock your other hand on top. Push hard and fast, aiming for a rate of 100-120 compressions per minute. Remember, you're pumping life back into their body with every compression.

4. Finding the Right CPR Class in Indianapolis

Choosing the right CPR class is crucial to receiving effective training. Look for reputable organizations that offer hands-on practice, up-to-date guidelines, and experienced instructors. Whether you're a healthcare professional or a concerned citizen, there's a CPR class in Indianapolis tailored to your needs.

5. Hands-on Practice: Mastering Chest Compressions

Effective chest compressions are the cornerstone of CPR. During training, you'll learn the proper technique to ensure you're providing sufficient depth and rate of compressions. With practice, you'll develop the muscle memory needed to perform compressions accurately, maintaining blood flow to vital organs.

6. Rescue Breaths: Giving Oxygen When It Matters

Incorporating rescue breaths between compressions helps deliver oxygen to the person's lungs and body. Training will guide you through the correct method of tilting the head, lifting the chin, and giving effective breaths. Remember, every breath you provide could be the breath that saves a life.

7. AEDs: Automated External Defibrillators Demystified

AEDs are user-friendly devices designed to shock the heart back into a normal rhythm during cardiac arrest. CPR training will teach you how to use these devices effectively and integrate them into your life-saving efforts. Knowing how to locate and use an AED can significantly improve the chances of survival.

8. CPR for Infants and Children: Tailoring Your Techniques

CPR techniques for infants and children differ from those for adults. Proper training will teach you how to adapt your approach, ensuring you provide the right amount of pressure and breaths for smaller bodies. Whether you're a parent, caregiver, or teacher, this specialized knowledge is invaluable.

9. Gaining Confidence: Mock Scenarios and Simulations

Hands-on practice with mock scenarios and simulations can boost your confidence in applying CPR. Training sessions often simulate real-life emergencies, allowing you to practice your skills in a controlled environment. This experience prepares you to respond calmly and effectively when faced with an actual crisis.

10. CPR Certification: Your Ticket to Preparedness

Completing CPR training often leads to certification, a testament to your commitment to saving lives. CPR certification not only enhances your skill set but also demonstrates your dedication to the well-being of your community. Many employers and organizations value employees with CPR certification, recognizing their ability to act decisively in emergencies.

FAQs

Q1: Can anyone learn CPR?

Absolutely! CPR training is designed to be accessible to everyone, regardless of age or background. It empowers anyone with the ability to make a difference in a life-threatening situation.

Q2: How long does CPR training take?

The duration of CPR training can vary depending on the course. Some basic courses can be completed in a few hours, while more comprehensive courses may take a day or more.

Q3: Is CPR only for medical professionals?

Not at all! While medical professionals can benefit from advanced CPR training, basic CPR skills are valuable for anyone. Bystander intervention can significantly improve survival rates.

Q4: Can I hurt the person while performing CPR?

When performed correctly, CPR is unlikely to cause harm. It's better to attempt CPR and potentially save a life than to do nothing in a critical situation.

Q5: Do I need to renew my CPR certification?

Yes, CPR guidelines and techniques can evolve over time. Renewing your certification ensures you're up to date with the latest best practices, maximizing your life-saving impact.

In conclusion, CPR training is an essential skill that every individual should acquire. It empowers you to take decisive action in emergencies, potentially saving precious lives. By learning CPR in Indianapolis, you're not just gaining knowledge; you're becoming a crucial link in the chain of survival. So why wait? Enroll in a CPR class today and be prepared to make a life-saving difference.

#cpr class indianapolis #cpr class #cpr indianapolis