#you want asks you send asks right?? That makes sense to me

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 8/10 | Paige Bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: paige gets a little jealous and things get a little heated

a/n: thank you all for your patience! part 9 will be up today too

word count: 2.3k

masterlist w/ all parts

1 MONTH LATER

“The only room left is with Paige.”

As soon as those words left KK’s mouth, your heart started to pulse erratically. “What? There’s no other room?”

KK shook her head apologetically. “There’s an odd number of us, and she called first dibs on getting her own room.”

The thought of having to share a room with Paige sent you into a panic. The sheer proximity would force you two to have to confront your past, and that was something you didn’t feel ready for yet. You inwardly cursed Nika at dragging you alongside this trip. The team had planned a trip celebrating the end of season, and had invited some of their close friends. At first you’d turned down the invite because of prior arrangements, but they ended up getting canceled, and when the girls found out they dragged you along as a last minute addition. You needed to work on keeping your mouth shut, you decided.

“Is she okay with it? I mean, she wanted to room alone,” you protested.

KK raised an eyebrow. “Girl, are you really asking that?”

Blushing, you looked down. “I don’t know, KK. It might be awkward.”

“Good.” KK stuck the key card in your pocket. “You guys better work things out. I’m tired of seeing you guys play games.” She patted you on the back and left you alone in the lobby.

Sighing, you double checked the room number before making your way to the elevator. Anxiety pounded in your head up until the moment you knocked on the door, half hoping Paige wouldn’t be in there and that you could deal with this issue later.

Unfortunately, the door swung open right away. Paige was in her dark basketball shorts and a tight fitting UConn tee. Her eyes brightened when she saw you, and she leaned against the door. “Hey.”

You marveled at her ability to make you all flustered with just a single raspy word. But you didn’t want to see the effect she had on you, so you straightened yourself and spoke with as much confidence as you could muster. “Apparently I’m supposed to room with you.”

Paige’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she looked over her shoulder to scan the room. “Right, right. Um, give me one sec.” Without bothering to close the door, she hurried back to the room and started piling clothes into her suitcase and throwing away food wrappers.

“Paige,” you laughed, stepping into the room. “Relax. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The blonde blushed, sending you a sheepish look. “Sorry. I wasn’t really expecting you.”

“Me neither,” you said under your breath. Ignoring her questioning look, you stepped further into the room to look around. Only then did you realize that there was one bed.

The fates definitely had it out for you. You eyed the rest of the room, hoping another bed would magically appear. Paige made eye contact with you, seeming to sense your anxiety. “Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled. “I can sleep on the floor with some blankets. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Years ago, you’d slept in Paige’s bed almost every night, with a drawer in her room. It didn’t matter if it was a weekend or if you had school the next day. You always slept over. You guys were both touchy, so practically every day you’d wake up with your legs tangled, Paige’s face in the crook of your elbow or your forehead pressed against her shoulder. It has been so natural. And now? Now she was offering to sleep on the floor, like you guys were strangers.

“Don’t be silly,” you forced yourself to sound nonchalant. “We can both sleep on here. There’s tons of room.” You knew you wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, with Paige next to you. The tension would be unbearable.

You could sense the blonde hesitate before she nodded. “If you’re sure.” She looked at her phone as it lit up with a text. She stood up, grabbing a jacket. “They’re all downstairs getting lunch. You ready?”

When you reached the resteraunt, the only two seats left were one in the middle and one at the end, next to Ice’s friend that you didn’t know. You didn’t feel much like talking, so you took the seat next to Ice’s friend. She seemed nice enough.

“You’re Y/N?” Ice’s friend was a ginger, with vibrant hair and a smattering of freckles across her pink cheeks. She was definitely pretty in a charismatic way, with a chip on her front tooth and curious eyes.

“That’s me.”

She scanned you up and down before slowly smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Marissa.”

Your cheeks heated up at how she’d unashamedly checked you out. But you brushed it off. Based on the clothes she was wearing, she seemed pretty straight. She probably just liked your shirt or your jeans or something.

You opened the menu, musing over what you should get. Marissa popped up behind your shoulder. “I’m not super hungry. You wanna share?”

Relieved that you wouldn’t have to make a decision, you nodded in agreement. “Whatever you’re getting is fine.”

“Alright.” She scooted her chair closer to yours, drawing the attention of the entire table as the legs screeched against the tiles. “So we can share,” she explained as everyone stared.

You could feel the heat of Paige’s stare as she observed how close you and Marissa now were, your elbows colliding with each movement, but you chose to ignore it. You didn’t need to deal with any drama right now, especially since you guys were now in the same room.

“So.” Marissa propped her chin up on her hand. “What’s your connection?”

You played with the napkin in front of you. A swan origami would look good, you thought. “Sorry?”

Marissa laughed as if you’d just told the funniest joke ever. “I mean, with the team. How’d you become friends with them?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you debated what to say. You didn’t wanna say Paige’s name and give off the impression that you guys were still best friends, but you didn’t want to lie either. You settled on telling Marissa that you were friends with all of them but Paige had introduced you guys.

“Nice,” Marissa nodded. You guys fell into small talk. She was pretty nice, but a little inquisitive, and your social battery was starting to drain.

“What do you like to do?”

“Read. I like reading. I like hiking and being outdoors. And watching sports too. Volleyball, soccer, basketball,” you nodded your head at the team at the latter.

“Oh, awesome.” Marissa touched your wrist. You looked down. Okay, now she was definitely flirting. “Do you play a sport?”

“She plays water polo,” Paige quickly interjected from across the table. The whole table quieted down, but she didn’t look away, staring at us with a kind of ferocity you knew all too well.

Marissa looked between us with surprise. “Oh, nice.” She pondered thoughtfully, then broke into a smile. “Oh shit, I heard the swim suits get really tight in that sport. Are they that bad?”

You laughed, trying to diffuse the tension at the table. “Yeah, they’re pretty tight, but I’ve gotten used to it. The only thing is that they’re kinda revealing.”

Marissa bit her lip, her fingers tapping your wrist. “Then I’ll have to watch you sometime.”

At this, Paige started coughing. KK whacked her on the back. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You knew Paige was laughing at Marissa’s poor attempts at flirting, and a small part of you found it funny too, but another part of you was furious at Paige. Why did she think it was her place to act like this?

So you decided to bite back, and you leaned towards Marissa with a suggestive smile on your face. “Maybe you will.”

Paige immediately stopped hacking away, and her face turned rigid. Thankfully, the waiter arrived with the food, so all the girls got distracted. The atmosphere returned to normal as all the girls complimented the food and went back to their conversations.

The rest of lunch went fairly smoothly, albeit the fact that Marissa had upped her flirting since, and Paige would not stop glaring at the two of you. But you were grateful for the fact that she’d stopped intervening and kept to herself.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. Mostly of the girls had already finished their meals and left. It was just Paige and KK continuing their dumb argument over the best Tru Fu flavor, Nika and Caroline chatting intently about the recent Mystics game, and you and Marissa. You’d wanted to leave and go lie down in the hotel bed eons ago, but the ginger couldn’t seem to get the hint.

The waiter set down a refill of Marissa’s Shirley Temple in front of her. She plucked the cherry from it, rolling the stem between her fingers before bringing it up to my mouth. “You like cherries?” she smirked.

All of a sudden, a long arm stretched between the two of us and grabbed it from Marissa’s hand. “She doesn’t like cherries,” Paige uttered, leaning from across the table. “But I do. Thanks!” She popped the cherry in her mouth and calmly returned to her food.

Nika and Caroline were too absorbed in their conversation to realize what had happened. But of course KK had seen the whole thing, and her mouth dropped open as she tried not to laugh.

Marissa didn’t seem too offput by what Paige had just done, continuing the conversation like normal. But you couldn’t hear her, her voice muffled and drowned out by the noise ringing in your ears. Heat crept up from the base of your neck. What the fuck did Paige think she was doing?

Finally, you interrupted Marissa’s spiel with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you said. “But I gotta go. I told my mom I’d call her at 2.”

“Oh, okay,” Marissa said. “I’ll see you!”

You got up quickly before she could hug you or anything and called Paige’s name. “I don’t have a room key,” you lied, relentlessly staring her down. “Can you come up with me?”

Paige looked back at KK, who mouthed to her, “You’re in deep shit.” The blonde slowly and begrudgingly turned back around, getting up and following you out of the resteraunt.

We were silent in the elevator. Paige kept shooting you nervous looks while you stood against the wall with your arms crossed. Your anger was building, spilling over. You felt as if you were expanding, ballooning with rage. If you didn’t control yourself, fast, you’d explode.

As soon as the door clicked behind you two, you turned around and jabbed a finger in Paige’s chest. “What the hell was that?”

Paige clenched her jaw, her face set and stony. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, fuck you. You know what I mean. Stop acting oblivious,” you hissed.

Paige was backed up against the wall now, your faces inches apart. “You hate cherries. You used to give me the cherries in all your Shirley Temples,” she shrugged. “I’m sorry Miss Marissa didn’t know that,” she added, her tone bloodcurdlingly condescending, riling you up even more.

“What if I’d wanted that cherry? We’ve barely talked in the past year. Stop acting like you know me.” You ignored the way Paige’s face fell at your words, focusing instead on your anger. You needed to stay mad. Paige always found a way to appease your anger, but not this time. You needed to get your point across.

“If you want a cherry so damn bad, I’ll go down and get one for you.”

Your nostrils flared at Paige’s attitude. “You and I both know that’s not what this is about. So why don’t you stop behaving like a kid and tell me why you’re acting like this?”

Paige’s chest was heaving. She was looking at you with so much anger and frustration and something else in her eyes. “Huh?” you prodded, pushing her chest.

Paige looked up at the ceiling. When she looked back down, her eyes were wet. “What do you want me to admit, Y/N?” Her voice was low and cold, nothing like the high-pitched intensity of my yelling. “The fact that I’m jealous? That it sickens my stomach to see you guys loudly flirting for the entire meal? Do you know how humiliating it is for me to just sit there and not say anything as my entire team watches my ex play around with some girl? I had a fucking migraine the entire time thinking about how many times this must’ce happened in the past year. So many times I wasn’t there that people were talking to you like that and touching you, and it made me want to fucking die.”

You reared your head. “Don’t say that.” Stumbling back, you shrilled out, “Don’t you fucking say that when you’re the reason we’re like this now.”

Paige’s eyes flashed. “You never let me apologize. I have so many things to say and you won’t even hear me out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Your laugh was rattled and hollow, a reflection of the uneasy feelings in your chest. “Begging for my attention? That’s funny. I thought I was the fan girl. Desperate to have just. one. fuck. with. you.”

It looked like a car had hit Paige in the stomach, taking the air from her lungs. She crumpled up. “Y/N. Please. I never, ever, meant that.” She reached for you, but you stepped away from her grasp.

“I need some air.” You shoved your way past her, letting the door slam away behind you.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x you #uconnwbb #wcbb #wbb #enemiestolovers #friends to lovers

[thef1diary]

2k thot 🫣 voice kink w Pierre, just loving it whenever he speaks French even if you don’t know what he’s saying. Make it as spicy you want 🙃

Keep Talking | P. Gasly

warnings: 18+ smut, doggy (it’s Pierre okay 🫣), slight choking, and obvs voice kink

wc: 800+

masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

You found yourself on all fours, your body arched in ecstasy as Pierre's firm hands gripped your hips. Each thrust sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that consumes every inch of your being.

His fingers dance with precision tracing tantalizing circles around your swollen clit, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through you. But amidst the intoxicating symphony of sensations, it's Pierre's voice that truly sets you ablaze. It's not just the words he speaks, but the language he speaks in, his mother tongue.

"Tu es tellement belle, mon amour," he breathes next to your ear, his voice a velvety whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

You whimper in response, your body trembling underneath his as his words wash over you like a tidal wave of passion. Each syllable, spoken in his native French, is a seductive invitation to lose yourself in the depths of pleasure.

"Tu vas si bien pour moi," he murmurs, the intensity in his voice igniting a firestorm of desire within you.

Each whispered word, each guttural moan, reverberates through you like a melody, his voice a siren's call luring you to the edge of oblivion.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby, missed me that much, huh?" He asked, switching languages so you can understand and give him an answer.

You whimper and clench involuntarily at his words, biting your lip as he speeds up his thrusts. His fingers slip away from your clit and you almost whine at the loss of pleasure but those fingers quickly wrap around your throat. With his lips grazing your ear, he whispers, "réponds-moi."

"Oui, please, please, Pierre, I missed you so much," you rush out in one breath before another wave of pleasure brings you closer to the edge.

His lips brush tenderly against the side of your head, and you can sense the curve of his smile before he mutters, "that's my good girl."

You make a concerted effort to stifle your own cries and whimpers as his fingers return to your clit, pinching and circling in time with his thrusts. You wanted to focus solely on the intoxicating sound of his voice. Each low groan that escapes his lips, every ragged breath he takes above you, becomes a precious melody that you yearn to etch into the depths of your memory.

Every time he mumbles anything, you clench around his cock, earning a breathless chuckle from him. His amusement is palpable as he realizes the effect his voice has on you, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"Do you like it when I tell you how good you feel around me?" he questions, his voice husky with desire. His fingers trail lightly along the curve of your spine, sending a shiver of anticipation throughout your body.

With a soft whimper, you nod, unable to form coherent words as his voice weaves a spell around you, drawing you deeper into the throes of passion.

"Or," he murmurs softly into your ear, his words a tender caress against your skin, as if he's sharing a precious secret. "I think you love tout about my voice."

You inhale sharply at the sensation of his warm breath against your ear, a shiver running down your spine as his words sink in. The intimacy of his tone sends a rush of desire coursing through you, threatening to consume you whole.

"Is that what it is, mon amour?" He continues, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with a mixture of amusement and desire.

You can't help but nod, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming rush of emotions welling up inside you. It's not just the sound of his voice that enthralls you, but the way it makes you feel — cherished, desired, and utterly adored.

You arch into him, grinding your ass against him as he slips in and out of you. You reach your hand behind you, placing your palm on the nape of his neck, bringing him closer.

"Please," you gasp, your voice a desperate plea as waves of pleasure wash over you, threatening to engulf your senses entirely.

Your eyes flutter shut, your head falling forwards in ecstasy as you struggle to form coherent words amidst the overwhelming sensation.

"Don't... don't stop talking," you manage to grit out, your voice trembling with need. Each syllable is a struggle, torn from your lips as if by sheer force of will. But the urgency in your tone is unmistakable, a fervent plea for him to continue, to keep the intoxicating stream of words flowing.

As his voice washes over you like a soothing balm, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, lost in a haze of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole. And in that moment, all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming tide, clinging to his every word like a lifeline in the storm of sensation.

So you do surrender to the overwhelming sensation, allowing yourself to be consumed by the raw intensity of his voice, knowing that in its embrace lies a sanctuary where time stands still, and all that exists is the intoxicating symphony of your shared desire.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @nikfigueiredo @sya-skies @wonnou

#thef1diary fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly fanfic #smut #fanfic #f1 blurb #pierre gasly blurb #di celebrates

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part Fourteen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: and they were cousins, poison, brief descriptions of violence and death

A/N: Thank you to everyone for being patient with me while I slowly update TDE🥺❤️‍🩹 Hopefully this chapter was worth it, I apologize beforehand for the lack of smut and the abundance of plot

You stare at the document in your hands, realization trickling in slowly, then with more force — a dam eroding before the subsequent flood. The longer you look at it the more the words and symbols swim before your eyes. How could this be? Had Jessica known about this?

She had to have, you puzzle, if it was in the study. Why didn’t she tell you? Could it be that she just never got the chance?

Or was she hiding it?

“You could at least look a little bit excited to see me.”

“Oh, Asha, I —” the content of the document promptly vanishes from your mind as it works instead to compute the image of Asha standing in the doorway of the study. “Asha!”

A shriek tears from you and you race across the room to your friend, embracing her tightly. She laughs against you. “There’s the welcome that I was expecting.”

“I’m sorry, I — actually, it doesn’t matter. What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” You hold her at arms length, examining her to make sure that she looks healthy and unharmed. “Are they treating you well?”

“The servants went sent ahead to prepare the rooms,” Asha says. “And I’m fine. How are you? Am I an aunt yet?”

There’s nothing you can do to suppress your eye roll, but you squeeze her hand assuringly. “You’ll be the first person to know.”

“Mm. The na-Baron needs to get on it.”

“Get on what?”

“Me,” you say. At the same time, Asha blurts, “Nothing!”

Feyd has replaced Asha in the doorway. He looks unfairly handsome, his skin retaining a little more color than usual from the Arrakis suns. Well, a red color, one that you’ve assurred him would fade.

Probably.

Seeing him makes your stomach flip. You’ve left the document out on the desk, and you glance at it quickly. But if he picks up on your panic, he doesn’t mention it.

“I suspected it was you when I heard all of the shrieking,” Feyd says. Then, this time to Asha, “I’m glad that you’re here.”

“Thank you, na-Baron,” Asha says with a dip of her chin.

“Do you need something?” You ask him. As casually as you can, you return to the desk and slip the document into your pocket.

Feyd’s lips twitch. “Can a husband not just visit his wife?”

“A husband can,” you retort, “but I have the sense that you are here as the na-Baron. Not my husband.”

“Is there a difference?”

You look to Asha. “I’ll be right back,” you promise her. Not daring to say anything in front of Feyd, she nods. You trail after Feyd into the hallway, who sets a swift pace, striding away from the study and out of ear shot.

“There’s a problem,” he tells you in a hushed tone.

“Other than the fact that you just stole me away as soon as my best friend arrived?”

Feyd ignores this. “My brother has generously invited Irulan and her family to the feast tomorrow night.”

“What?”

“The Emperor has declined the invitation but Irulan has elected to attend. Even though her father won’t be there, I suspect he’ll send an army of reinforcements for her.”

You mull over this new information. Both of you fall silent as a pair of soldiers pass by, then you whisper, “Could they suspect our plan?”

“No. Impossible.” Feyd shakes his head. “I’m sure the Baron just wants to remind House Corrino of their hand in…this.” He waves his hand to encompass the palace as you walk through it.

“Dethroning my family by having them killed?”

Feyd stops and pivots to you, grabbing your wrist. “I haven’t forgotten. But neither have they. We must keep our wits about us if we hope to be successful.”

“Right. I know.” You free yourself from his grip.

“You can’t let your emotions distract you.”

“They won’t.”

Feyd inspects your face, and he’s quiet for quite some time. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“No I’m not,” you reply reflexively. Feyd raises a brow. A scowl crosses your features and, reluctantly, you ask him, “What do you know of my…lineage?”

“I told you, you must not —”

“Just answer the question,” you snap. He’s acting as if you’re a petulant child, liable to pitch a fit.

Feyd recites what he knows, what you’ve told him — how your mother’s parents were never revealed to her. His mouth forms a severe line. “Why?”

There’s a fleeting moment in which you debate whether or not you’ll share the information with him. Ultimately, you know that you will never be able to keep it a secret. With hesitance you draw the document from your pocket and give it to him. Feyd’s eyes flash curiously to yours then back to the paper before reading it.

His expression remains unchanged. He hands the paper back to you. “I’m not surprised.”

“You’re not surprised?”

You were cousins. Cousins.

“I didn’t know, obviously,” he says, his voice nearing a growl. Then something in him softens slightly. “I’m referencing the inexplicable…connection that I have always felt. That you must’ve felt. Our hearts knew the same blood ran in our veins before our minds did.”

“You’re okay with this?” You ask.

Feyd lifts a shoulder, diplomatic as ever. “It is not unheard of. Besides, I am too entranced with you to let this affect me. If anything it just cements the bond that we have.”

He draws you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head. You find comfort in the pulse of his heart under your ear, the familiar scent that you’ve associated with him. “You are me,” he says finally.

You smile softly. “And I am you.”

Late into the evening you help Asha with prepping for your esteemed guests, working alongside the other servants and sneaking sips of the spice wine. They’re unsure of you, at first, but Asha quickly puts them at ease with a few unflattering anecdotes. You laugh with them. It’s been too long of a time since you’ve really laughed, spent time with people who didn’t have any expectations of you except the ones that Asha dashed — you were not quite as scary as you looked, and you did not lash out at others at the slightest provocation.

“You’re confusing me for my husband,” you told them then, to weary laughter. You might not have been a threat to them, but they were all afraid of Feyd-Rautha. Understandably.

It’s a nice reprieve until you awake the next morning with a twinge of a spice headache and a spiraling sense of doom. What if your pain failed? What if something happened to you — or Feyd?

“Quit it.”

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, draped in your finest dress. Feyd stands before the vanity and you watch him slip the Gom Jabbar into a hidden compartment in his sleeve. “Quit what?” You ask, fear tightening your chest.

“Worrying,” he says.

You meet his eyes in the mirror. A protest forms on your tongue but you know it would be futile to pretend that you aren’t worrying considering that he knows every subtle change in your expression. When you fail to reply, he turns to you, straightening out the cuffs of his smart jacket.

“Everything will be fine,” he tells you.

“You don’t know that.”

“I have never made a habit of being wrong.”

You fix him with an exasperated look. “We have no idea how this is going to play out.”

“We’re going to take back control from the hands of our oppressors,” Feyd says, his rasping voice like a lullaby. His long stride devours the space between you until he’s positioned himself practically between your legs. “We will finally take what we deserve.”

“I know. I know,” you say again with more conviction. You roll your shoulders back and try to emulate some of Feyd’s unwavering confidence, but he hardly looks convinced.

Gazing down at you, Feyd brushes his knuckles over the bannister of your cheek. “No harm will come to you. I won’t allow it.”

“And I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

His hand pauses. Feyd’s thumb and forefinger captures your chin, lifts it up. “Promise me that you will not jeopardize your safety for mine.”

Not for the first time, you admire the angles of his face — the smooth brow, the dark eyes looking down at you over his straight nose; the plush lips that you cannot look at without picturing them over your most sensitive parts. Your heart pangs. You would do anything for him.

You tell him in an equally soft tone, “I can’t promise you that.”

“You must.” His grip on your chin tightens.

“We’ve already established that you are my blood. My past, my future,” you whisper fervently to him, brave in the face of his obvious disapproval, “if the moment comes to it I would lay down my life to protect yours.”

Feyd leans down. His mouth slants over yours, a phantom of a kiss. “Then you’re a fool,” he breathes, words chilling you.

“So be it.”

Feyd releases his grasp on you, stealing the air from your lungs. Even the faintest touch of his leaves you wanting more.

“Come,” he says, holding out his arm, “my foolish wife. We have guests to receive.”

Glowglobes dance over your heads as you venture, arm in arm, to the front of the palace. No one has been permitted to enter without the na-Baron and na-Baroness and at your arrival begin to trickle in slowly, each guest stopping to greet you and praise you for your hospitality.

A few stop to ponder at the lack of wash troughs but after a series of dead-end interactions with Feyd cease to ask. It wasn’t a popular choice among the Arrakis staff, you had learned from your previous stay that they liked to sell the towels from which cleaned up the mess from the troughs. Your Harkonnen guest frown on this as well. Even Feyd was skeptical about your insistence on removing the tradition, but he supported you regardless, and you couldn’t be more pleased by your decision.

Water was sacred here and you would not flaunt your access to it, not even to those who had never had to safe keep it.

It’s difficult to maintain the smile on your face as you welcome noblemen and bankers, wealthy businessmen, and even the occasional individual that you sense dabbled in the more seedy side of entrepreneurship. The duel suns have just started to set when you notice a familiar dark shape approaching you.

“Uncle,” Feyd greets the Baron.

“Feyd-Rautha, na-Baroness.” His voice slips over you like grease and his eyes are even more beady than you remember. Your grandfather. “It is good to see you again and to celebrate your victory.”

“Indeed,” you reply, not meaning it in the least.

From behind the Baron, his suspenders whirring with the effort of lifting him, emerge Rabban, clutching the wrist of one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Her dress gives the appearance of armor but still impressively elegant, blonde hair slicked back and green eyes latching onto you immediately.

“Princess Irulan,” Rabban says. “Though she hardly needs an introduction.”

“It’s a pleasure,” you say, curtsying.

Irulan smiles wistfully at you. “There is no need for that. We are destined to be family, after all.”

“My apologies,” Feyd retorts.

“Don’t mind him,” the Baron directs at the princess. One of his massive hands clamps down on Feyd’s shoulders, a gesture that you do not mistake for anything less than threatening. “He jests as all brothers do.”

“I understand,” Irulan says with a melodious laugh. Though as the five of you take to joining the rest of the party (along with Irulan's small army of guards), you can’t help but notice the way she glances at you. You have trouble deciphering the look but it slips from your mind after another session of small talk before the first course is served.

The table has just been set with plates of all sorts of delicacies when you feel a small hand grab you. Bodies press against you as guests hurry to claim the most coveted seats at the table. A chord of surprise is struck in you when you realize that the hand is not that of someone hoping to steady themselves amongst the sea of bodies but, rather, the intentional grip of Princess Irulan.

“We must talk,” she says. “It’s not every day that you find yourself in a situation like the one we have both been put in.”

“Did you not think your father would arrange your marriage?” You ask stiffly.

Something reminds you that Irulan is studying to be a Bene Gesserit, a feat that you could never hope to accomplish. You have to admit that it’s admirable. But the less tolerant side of you resents her for it.

“I could never hope for that, much like you were unable,” Irulan says. “I meant in the nature of being engaged to Harkonnens.”

“Oh.”

Distractedly you let your eyes wander until they fall on Feyd, who is sitting in his place at the head of the table and entertaining a small audience. Rabban, on the other hand, glowers at the food heaped on his plate, fork gripped in his fist as if he wants to launch it at someone.

“Do you have any wisdom to impart?” Irulan asks.

“I’m still trying to learn myself,” you tell her. “The Harkonnens are a…unique people.”

Irulan leans closer to you. “Is Feyd-Rautha as psychotic as they say?”

“Even more,” you say in interest of feeding the rumors. They weren’t wrong, of course, but you could hardly consider him as such when it was Irulan’s own betrothed who worried you.

And they both had a hand in your family’s deaths.

Before you can say anything to this effect, however, Feyd beckons you to the table. You smile at Irulan placatingly — the expression of a wife under her husband’s control — then find your place beside him. Irulan sits down on the other side of Rabban. Is she still staring at you?

You can’t help but feel as you did when Jessica would scrutinize you, analyzing your every move and word. It unsettles you.

The dinner starts without a hitch. You do your best to move the food on your plate around convincingly and avoid Irulan’s gaze. Everyone seems content to listen to Feyd’s stories about dismantling the spice smugglers, though, which leaves you mostly adrift with your thoughts. In fact, you’re so surprised when someone speaks to you that it takes several moments for you to compose an answer.

“Pardon my niece,” the Baron interjects with a sickening smile. “She certainly has a lot on her mind. Arrakis is grueling for even the weakest of individuals, though she’s had experience with it before.”

The noblemen who spoke to you nods. “That’s right. You’re of House Atreides. My condolences about your parents. Duke Leto was a magnificent man.”

“If only other men were possessed of such magnificence,” you mutter in reply, angrily spearing a vegetable on your plate. You shoot a glare at the Baron. “My father inspired cowardice in those who could not even hope to compete with him.”

“True cowardice lies in refusing to admit when you’ve been beat,” the Baron says coolly. He licks sauce from his thumb.

You stare back evenly at him. “You would know about true cowardice.”

The nobleman stuck between you both clears his throat awkwardly and drains the rest of his glass. Conversation swells again and thankfully diverts the topic of your family, and as the dinner transpires you’re itching to enact your plan. Finally dessert is cleared and after-dinner drinks are set before all of the guests.

Feyd rises to his feet and draws the attention of the room, holding up his flute to indicate a toast.

You stand, too, and smile endearingly at him.

“Tonight we have gathered to celebrate the prosperity of the House Harkonnen,” he rasps. “In the face of adversity we have yet again come out the victors on the other side.” This is met by a small smattering of applause. Feyd continues, “Of course, where would we be without our patriarch? The Baron has…provided for us for many years. I can only hope to return the favor.”

Feyd and you both drink from your glasses, as do the rest of the party.

It takes only a few seconds for panic to arise.

While you and Feyd gaze out contentedly at your guest, they find themselves paralyzed and unable to move a muscle. It’s a temporary poison — it won’t last longer than a few minutes — but it’s one that you both have acclimated to. You are free to round the table to Rabban at the same time that Feyd strides to his uncle on the other side.

You pull the Gom Jabbar from your corset. Every Noble House is in possession of one, which is why Feyd also had to steal his own. In a movement that seems almost choreographed, you and your husband bring the needles up to the necks of your prisoners. Adrenaline soars through you.

“It was always going to end like this between us,” Feyd murmurs almost lovingly to the Baron. He brushes his finger down his uncle’s face.

You turn your attention to Rabban. Although he cannot move, the muscles in his eyes strain to glare at you. You hold the needle just centimeters from his skin. “I will give you the same mercy you gave my family,” you whisper. “None.”

“STOP!”

Time ceases to move as, from your peripheral, you watch Irulan shoot to her feet. You’re unable to refuse the call of The Voice, and you’re rendered as paralyzed as the guests who drank from their poisoned glasses.

Which, apparently, the princess had not.

“You two are both fools,” she hisses. Her fingers form claws at her sides. “Did you not think I would notice what you were doing? That I would let you unravel the hard work of my father?”

Using The Voice, she orders you to drop the needles. They clatter to the ground.

You manage a glance in Feyd’s direction. His expression is grim, jaw clenched and eyes burning with rage at having been thwarted. Out of all of the outcomes of this evening, you hadn’t expected this to be one of them. A leaden feeling fills your entire body.

Irulan holds you, frozen, until she can call her father’s guards into the room and command them to seize you for treason.

“Irulan, please,” you beg her once liberated of her hold over you.

She simply gazes at you with contempt.

Guards descend on the room without warning and, without any verbal agreement, you and Feyd do your best to fend off wave after wave of them. They drop like flies, but there’s too many of them for you both to dispatch. You step and whirl over fallen bodies as you fend off the guards with nothing but a butter knife, the Gom Jabbar having been the first thing the guards kicked out of your grasp.

“We have to get out,” Feyd snaps at you. He throws a punch over your shoulder, hitting a guard and giving you enough time to spin and kick the offender in the gut. “Now.”

You pant, “Where?”

Irulan was tending to Rabban, who had stirred and was glaring murderously at you as he waited for the rest of his body to cooperate. The Baron simply stared from his seat. You had no idea if he was fully awake or not, but you didn’t want to wait for the punishment he fettered out.

“Here.” Feyd pushes a torn up napkin into your hands and demonstrates his intention by forcing them deep into his ears.

You quickly do the same. If you can’t hear Irulan, then the Voice won’t work on you.

Right?

It seemed as good a plan as any. Like a conjoined beast, you and Feyd tear through the swarm of guards like cutting through tall wheat. Blood splattered his face and his knuckles had broken open — you were sure you looked just as deranged, hair loosened from its pins and dress ripped from where a guard had taken hold to try and stop you. You had promptly struck him in the head with your foot, knocking him out and releasing his grip on you.

A roar from behind alerts you to bigger troubles. Rabban staggers after you, face reddened.

“Y/N!” Asha cries. You’ve made it to one of the adjoining hallways, and she latches onto your arm, pulling you towards her.

“Asha, no —”

“Go! Take her!” Feyd yells.

You wrench yourself free from Asha but Feyd has already been swallowed up by a wall of guards. A keening sound escapes you. You try to push yourself back but Asha won’t let you. “No, Feyd! Feyd!”

“He made me promise that I would help you escape,” Asha tells you, panicked. “Come on.”

“I won’t leave him.”

Asha tugs your arm. “I doubt he will be able to tolerate being apart from you for very long. But he will not tolerate it if I let anything happen to you.”

A guard with a lasgun splits from the dining room towards you and Asha and, with one more prompt from her, you take off running in the opposite direction, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The lasgun fires off two rounds, narrowly missing you. You pump your legs as fast as they will go, completely disconnected from the task at hand as you remember the image of Feyd interlocking with Rabban before he was obscured from your view by the guards. Would even your husband be able to escape such force?

“Turn here,” Asha instructs, your feet thundering loudly on the polished floors. She turns and thrusts you into a segment of the wall that has fallen away, moving swiftly to replace it. Stupidly, you hover, ensuring that you’re not being followed. The sound of the guard’s heavy breathing passes by you, then disappears. Asha turns to you, her face in shadows. “Move.”

Once you’re safely away from the door, tunneling through a narrow passageway, you ask her, “Where are we?”

“Abandoned servants halls. They used to use them to travel through the palace without being detected.”

A rush of adrenaline keeps you moving. You trail after Asha as she guides you through the winding passage, relying only on touch to navigate. You can barely even lift your arms at your sides without touching the walls, and its pitch black, no glowglobes to light your way. There’s no saying how far you go until Asha is grunting and pushing her shoulder up against another segment of wall.

You blink rapidly as you encounter a burst of light and the grit of sand on your tongue. Somehow you’ve bypassed most of the palace for the hangar. It’s shaded by an awning but open on one side to the harsh elements.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. If they’re smart they’ll know where we’re going.”

Asha leads you to one of the idle thopters. “I have no idea how to pilot one of these,” you say, alarmed.

“It’s been preprogrammed to at least get you out of Arraneen,” Asha says. “The rest is up to you. It’s not hard. This is the throttle—” she points to a lever, then another, “and this is the clutch.”

“I —” the words die in your throat.

I, what? Can’t land this thing? Can’t believe this is happening? Can’t leave without Feyd?

“Come with us. They’ll kill you if they find out you helped us,” you say instead.

Asha shakes her head. “There’s no room.”

“Asha —”

Your friend, her own tears in her eyes, pushes away your reaching hand. She ducks her head to check a watch-apparatus from her pocket. “The na-Baron should be here soon. If he’s not, he instructed me to force you to leave without him.”

You growl, “Nothing you can say will keep me from him.”

As if the universe felt personally challenged by this, the sounds of lasguns going off reverberate through the hangar. Asha and you both look towards the entrance, where Feyd can be seen sprinting from a group of guards. A scream climbs in your chest, bubbling with fear, as you watch him swerve and dodge to avoid the blasts.

“Feyd!” You cry.

His eyes lock on you and, seemingly emboldened, cycles his legs faster, outrunning the guards in their clumsy uniforms.

“Y/N, start the thopter!” Asha yells. She indicates a button on the mantle of the ship and you hastily press it, the bug-like wings snapping to life and kicking up sand in the hangar.

Feyd skids to a stop beside the thopter. A blast fires off, singing the mechanical flank of the ship. He uses his body as a shield for Asha. “Come with us,” he tells her, echoing you. Sweat and blood mingle on his face and his clothes.

“No. It’s too late. Go!” Asha all but shoves him into the thopter, crying out as another blast lands at her feet. With Feyd’s broad form next to yours, there’s truly no room for Asha unless she wanted to be smashed against the windshield. Feyd takes over the controls from you.

The thopter door closes right as the guards reach it, already jerking Asha into their grip.

You howl and scream in disbelief, pounding at the doors of the thopter from the inside as it launches into the air. Feyd hovers slightly before yanking on the throttle and piloting the thopter out of the hangar. “No, no, no!” Asha’s tiny frame is dwarfed by the guards, then by distance.

“Y/N, there’s nothing we can do now. She sacrificed herself for us. Let’s not put it to waste,” Feyd snarls at you.

You swipe tears and makeup from your face. Something inside you hardens, and you push down your anguish in order to focus on your escape. Feyd is a talented flyer, but it’s nothing compared to the league of thopters and ships encroaching in the distance. Worry clamps down on you like the jaws of a sandworm.

Arrakeen blurs beneath you as Feyd soars over it, the body of the thopter casting shadows over the buildings. You’ve nearly reached the shield wall when a shot collides with the thopter and sends it staggering to one side. Feyd curses. The Emperor’s ships have caught up with you. You grip your armrests, eyes widening as you watch the ships grow larger and larger in the rearview mirror. Feyd eases your ship through a small opening in the shimmering shield wall, effectively preventing any of the large ships from following.

More shots ring out, pinging off your thopter.

“What are we going to do?” Feyd’s dark gaze flickers behind you, then back to the desert unfolding before you. It’s then that you see it — a storm. “Feyd, did you get hit in the head? We can’t go into a sandstorm.”

“It’s our only option,” he grits out.

You want to protest, to persist that there’s another way, but you have no answer. Feyd forces the throttle of the ship down as far as it will go, the wings fluttering almost imperceptibly as he urges them to go as fast as possible. Pain explodes in your head when a blast hits the side of the thopter and you’re thrown against the inner wall; much like the pain, a fiery explosion erupts outside your window.

“Fuck! They shot off one of the engines,” Feyd yells over the clamor of the thopter stalling. Teeth gritting, he swoops it out of its downward spiral and back into the air. “We just have to make it to the storm. They won’t follow us.”

Giant columns of smoke billow from the decimated engine, the right wing also engulfed in flames. The thopters chugs along awkwardly, dipping and faltering as Feyd does his best to keep it in the air, relying on the gusts of wind from the oncoming storm. Your stomach churns.

And, quite literally jumping from one problem to the next, the storm seizes upon your thopter with furious force. From all sides you’re battered by wind and currents of sand and rocks, sounding like you were being pelted with boulders on all sides. You realize too late that the screaming you hear is from you. Feyd battles against the storm but at this point he’s at its terrible mercy, both of you being tossed around with no sense of control.

There’s a split second when you catch a glimpse of fear on Feyd’s face — the first time you’ve ever seen it — before another blast rockets into the thopter. One of the ships had followed you.

Flames converge with the whipping sand and an alarm starts wailing as the thopter plummets to the ground. Well, logical leads you to believe that it’s the ground, there’s no way of telling which direction you’re going.

Feyd releases himself from his seat’s harness and crosses over the console, throwing his body over yours right as the ship collides with something solid and everything goes black.

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing #these destined ends

[yanderes-galore]

Could you make Yandere Platonic Splinter Vs Yandere Platonic Shredder (TMNT 2012)?

I can try, sure :) Did most of the personality from memory so this is like an overview with how they'd act.

Here's your two dads, lol.

Yandere! Platonic! Splinter vs Yandere! Platonic! Shredder

(TMNT 2012)

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Attempted murder, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Forced (Shredder)/Dubious (Splinter) companionship.

Honestly, these two having a rivalry doesn't surprise me.

NEED I REMIND YOU THEY HAVE ALREADY FOUGHT OVER PEOPLE BEFORE?

For example, they fought for the same girl romantically.

Then later on they fight over Karai as a daughter.

I am not surprised if they both fought over you.

Maybe you're a ninja in training and manage to catch the eye of the two.

They may just see themselves as your teachers, but they could also see themselves as a fatherly figure in your life.

Although, they are very different in their approach.

Splinter already has a family so he's already very welcoming.

He treats you similarly to April in terms of training you alongside the turtles.

In fact you'd be lucky if you met him first.

The way you could meet Shredder is most likely through... kidnapping.

It would make more sense if he kidnapped you to get info on Splinter and the turtles.

Although it could've just been the wrong place, wrong time.

Either way, when you're there you manage to intrigue Shredder into sparing you.

Only to be taken back by Splinter and the turtles.

This could serve as your first meeting with Splinter too if you want, where you get involved with the family due to having nowhere else to go.

Both of them would want to train you if they felt an attachment with you.

Splinter is adamant on training you for self-defense.

While Shredder may do it to make you another pawn or weapon at first.

I can see their rivalry being... brutal.

It always has been brutal, even before you came into the picture.

Shredder already wants to kill Splinter.

Meanwhile Splinter has concerned himself with protecting his family.

When the two realize they both have a similar goal, it just gets worse.

Shredder wants to make you fully loyal to the Foot Clan so he can break Splinter.

Splinter focuses on having the turtles (and maybe April + Casey) protect you.

Splinter is much more caring, often showing affection and providing you shelter when you need it.

He just seems like a caring dad or mentor who wants to protect you.

Later on he seems to want to isolate you from your actual family... but right now he has Shredder to deal with.

Meanwhile Shredder is more cruel and intense.

He isn't really affectionate, just ask Karai.

Although he does care for you enough to show distress when others take you out of his sight.

Splinter would not usually kill to keep you in his care, not unless he was cornered.

Shredder on the other hand... would probably kill the entirety of New York if it meant you'd be his loyal apprentice.

As you can see... They are vastly different.

We've even seen them fight countless times in the shows, even times where Shredder brutally wounds Splinter.

Blood will be shed between them countless times before there is any conclusion.

The moment those two come together to fight, you can only hope whatever the outcome is will benefit you.

You no doubt are aware of the tension caused by your presence.

Yet even if you put yourself in isolation, one of them is going to find you.

I can see them both sending others to check in with you.

Shredder has countless soldiers and mutants.

Meanwhile Splinter has the turtles, April, and Casey.

I can also see you being thrown into a loop of constant kidnapping and rescuing... no matter who it is.

They try to convince you who is better, you end up tuning it out.

Frankly, you just want to go home... your REAL home.

While Splinter is more caring, he has his own issues with you being around others.

Shredder is straight up just volatile and cruel to those around you, yet strangely caring with you.

Even the best option here probably isn't healthy either.

You can only hope that some miracle saves you from this conflict.

The two have had tension for years between one another... one just waiting for the other to make a move...

With you thrown into the conflict, it's only a matter of time until things boil over and you're forced to see the fate that awaits you all.

#yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere tmnt #yandere splinter #yandere shredder #platonic shredder #yandere tmnt 2012

[fizzybin]

Mine

Warnings: Separation anxiety, co-dependency, master/pet relationship

Word count: 864

You bolted into Alastor's bedroom, heart racing with worry. But he was nowhere to be found. Frantically, you raced down the hallway and burst into the lobby of the hotel. "Master?" Your voice was shaky as you scanned the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Instead, you were met with the sight of a blacked-out Angel Dust and the sound of husker meticulously cleaning alcohol glasses behind the bar. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and stale liquor, adding to your sense of unease. Where could Your master be?

Your heart sank as you searched the hotel for any sign of him, your ears twitching in frustration. You made your way to his radio tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere to be found. A mix of disappointment and irritation swirled within you, leaving you unsure of how to feel.

As you trudged back to the hotel, frustration bubbling in your chest, you couldn't help but mutter your complaints aloud. The sharp tap of your footsteps echoed through the empty halls as you made your way back to his room, determined to give him a piece of your mind once he returned. Your mind raced with all the things you wanted to say, imagining the look on his face when you finally let out all your pent-up anger. But for now, all you could do was wait and stew in your own annoyance until he walked through that door

a few minutes later the familiar sounding of radio static entered the air and you heard the doorknob twist before opening, revealing Alastor standing there with a sly grin on his face. as he shut the door behind him, he didn’t even pay attention to you…he was really asking for it now.

“Where have you been?!” you demanded, trying to contain your anger as he nonchalantly hung his coat back in the closet. Part of you was irritated that he was still ignoring you, but another part was afraid of what might happen if he actually acknowledged your presence. You were torn between wanting a resolution and fearing the potential consequences of talking to him like you were.

you got off the bed and made your way towards Alastor, who seemed completely unaware of your existence as he hung up his stupid coat. I couldn't take it anymore. The constant feeling of being ignored was eating away at you.

"Answer me!"

You pleaded desperately, the tears already brimming in your eyes as you clung to his arm, desperate for his attention. He slowly turned to face you, a playful smirk on his lips at your reaction. You were completely at his mercy, unable to resist the hold he had over you.

"My dear, whatever do you mean? I was simply out for a stroll," he replied casually, his tone dripping with amusement.

Your anger flared at his nonchalant attitude. "Master I was so worried, I came to your room and you weren’t here so I ran all around the hotel trying to find you, why wouldn’t you tell me you left?!" you scolded, your voice tinged with hurt.

Alastor's grin softened slightly as he looked into your eyes, his crimson irises swirling with a mix of emotions. "Ah, my dear there's no need to fret. I’m here now" he explained, his voice gentle despite his usual playful demeanor as he scooped you up into his arms walking the both of you over to the bed and sitting you down beside him

You hooked your arm around his, seeking comfort in the warmth of his body. His arm around you felt like a protective shield, making you feel safe and secure.

Your shoulders collapse in relief, all the pent-up stress finally dissipating. Alastor's body is like a warm embrace, and you cling to him desperately.

The soft fabric of his shirt soothes your skin as he settles next to you, his warmth enveloping you entirely.

"I can't bear it if you ever leave me again." You whisper, the thought alone sending shivers down your spine. Without him, who would hold you together? Who would make the world feel right? He’s the only one you trust, the only one you find comfort in, the only one you love, You couldn't bear to even imagine it: If he really left you.

You sniffled into his arm at the real thought of him leaving you, Alastor’s fingers gently graze your scalp, leaving a warm and soothing sensation wherever they touch. His touch is both comforting and intimate.

As his hand gently plays with your hair, you feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. Each touch is tender and loving, his fingers massaging your scalp in a way that pushes away any stress or worry. The warmth of his palm against your head is soothing and comforting.

His fingers are cool against your warm skin, but they bring a comforting sensation as they glide through your hair, massaging your scalp and eliciting a sense of relaxation and comfort that you desperately craved from him

“i wont little one…i’ll always be here for you. I’m not going anywhere”

#alastor drabble #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor fluff

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Tour, which affords me the opportunity to be supremely self-indulgent]

13: laugh

Is this still the number for John Watson?

John pauses, thumb hovering. Before he can choose a response, another message flashes in.

It's Harry

He nearly drops the phone. Or maybe he nearly throws it against the wall. Hard to say. 

His reflex to caretake wars with his lingering resentment of her absence. But he knows he would regret ignoring an olive branch… or whatever this is.

Hi

Everything okay?

He breathes in deeply.

No small talk, got it

Yes I'm fine, good in fact

and no I'm not going to ask you for money

I'm glad things are going well for you

And he is, at least in the abstract.

John taps his phone to his lip absently and considers his options. A public reunion seems like it could be a volatile mistake, not to mention it's 7pm on a weekday. Sherlock is at the lab, Rosie is having her after-supper blanket time, and John is catching up on charting.

Thanks

I know this is the part where I'm supposed to ask how you are

But you know I'm pants at texting

Can we just have coffee or something?

And to be honest, he's pretty bored.

Come to mine for tea?

Harry's three dots wibble for a while, which John supposes is fair.

Right now?

With my schedule, I have to take opportunities where I can

Okay, yeah, I'm free

He sends her the address, feeling both pleased and annoyed. One would think that hitting his own rock bottom would make him more sympathetic towards his sister. But really, it just piles helpless anger on top of guilt on top of anger, ad nauseum.

He's not even sure she knows he's a father, for Christ's sake.

Turns out, she doesn't. She walks through the door he holds open for her, and stops abruptly when she sees Rosie. 'Oh my God,' she breathes, staring. 'Oh my God. You--' She turns to John, eyes wide. 'She-- Johnny. She's yours?'

He nods, and despite everything, he feels his face curve into a proud smile. 'Her name's Rosie.'

'Can I--' Harry indicates the blanket with a sharp movement. 'Can I say hello to her?'

'Yeah, course.' He follows her, and folds himself down behind Rosie. 'Sweetheart, this is your Aunt Harry.'

Harry makes a bit of a squawking noise, probably at the 'aunt' bit, but tamps it down. 'Hi, Rosie,' she manages, her voice rough but determined. 'It's lovely to meet you. What are you playing with?'

'Avocados,' Rosie mostly manages to say, then holds one up for Harry without hesitation. Harry takes it with a giggle, and before long they're thick as thieves with a pile of emoting avocados between them.

Harry glances up at him when there's a lull. 'So. The dad life is treating you well, yeah?'

He hesitates, then nods. 'It is now.'

She eyes him, but doesn't ask about what came before now. Instead, she says, 'I'm just going to ask, alright -- who's the other parent?'

He raises an eyebrow. 'Why d'you say there is one?'

Her eyes twinkle. 'Because you do not have the fashion sense to have bought her this outfit. Your bird rich, then?'

He coughs. 'Well. No.'

She waits, though he can see she's trying not to be annoyed by his reticence. She's never understood people wanting to keep things private. 'No?'

'My… flatmate. He's able to buy her things I don't give a toss about, yeah.'

She blinks. 'You have a gay flatmate?'

John feels his ears heat up. 'I do, yeah.'

She seems weirdly impressed. 'You've come a long way from being a rugby lad, haven't you?'

He snorts. 'I'm learning how to do plaits, if you'll believe it.'

'She's not got enough hair for that yet.'

'Sherlock--the flatmate--insists it's a useful skill, though I've no idea why.'

She doesn't reply, and he looks up from where he's helping Rosie with her current avocado. 'What?' he asks, though he knows it's useless. Harry is no Sherlock but honestly, she doesn't have to be, because his emotions have always been written all over his face. It's a curse and a blessing.

'Oh holy shit,' she breathes out.

'Language,' he admonishes reflexively.

'Sorry, I mean-- Holy noses, Johnny.'

'Don't be smug.'

'Oh, I take no credit for this, I always knew the overcompensating locker room talk was hiding something.'

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching. 'Yeah, insecurity about willy size.'

'Okay, ew, first of all. Second of all-- What the--' He gives her a warning look. 'Ever-loving heck.'

'Short version?' She nods quickly. 'Got married, got pregnant, had baby, wife passed away, realised I had feelings for my flatmate. Who is a man. And who is effectively fathering my child.'

She claps her hand over her mouth, and for a moment he fears she's going to cry, but then realises she's laughing.

'Oi, that's just not on,' he protests.

'But it's ridiculous!' She holds out a hand to him placatingly. 'It's lovely and sad and all that, but you have to admit--'

There are tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and he feels it begin to bubble up in his chest, too. Her laugh has always been a thing of beauty, of loud, annoying, contagious, unforgettable beauty, and he can't help it.

And she's right, really. It is kind of ridiculous.

He lets out his own laugh, finally, and reaches for her hand.

[❤️]

#it's gonna be MAY 2024 #May Prompts 2024 #MayPrompts2024 #BBC Sherlock #Parentlock

[girlfromthecrypt]

I know you weren't thinking I'd skip out on my chapter rant and seeing as i had 2!!! Chapters to catch up on you know this will be lengthy. Apologies and spoilers...ish i will try to make shit vague if i can.

1. I FUCKING LOVE THE KIDS!!! OMG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!! I legit died i was like awww omg. No.. not in this story with Liza janes damn creepy ass creatures! Get the kids out of here!!! 😭

But no for real i loved them and i love kids in gen so it was just adorable!

2. The creepy kid thing. Didn't we discuss this even before you even uploaded the demo in the first place??? Did we not!! I remember we did and regretting that i even said anything. I shld learn to shut up... she says while writing a long ass rant.

3. You are so wrong!!!! So very wrong for writing that walk scene with Basil. You know what you did there! There is no need to send my head spinning like that you cruel person! I had to take a minute. Stupid basil 🙄🤭🫣

4. Can we just stop letting flo like creepy shit. Stop it! I love you now stop touching creepy crap. We've discussed this omg 😭

On that note the doubt i loved. The whole am i crazy thing. And the ROs not believing you is so on point! You slayed!

5. Sawyer... sawyer is me. It's the spiderman meme. I don't camp i don't do outdoors. I love kids but hate grass. I laughed at the what the f.. redirection because honestly SAME!!

And telling MC i guess you're okay. Bruh. Thanks.. i guess??! I have never related more to being so awkward in my life. They are the grumpycat i needed. And them instantly seeing tht creepy thing and going no. 🤣 and the splashing scene. So aggressive lmao like can you stop sounding like a damn Tsundere 😂

What number am i even on.

Idk.

I loved the little therapy session and i wanted to punch every single ex that hurt any of my poor ROs also who the hell cheats on those ppl. Idiots.

And then more creepiness 🙄💀

You keep scaring the crap out of me. I like and hate it lol

I loved the update!!! You are awesome and you shld know i think that by now. I enjoyed it so much! 😇💜

Wheee I'm so happy! Thank you so much

SO GLAD YOU LOVE THE CAMPERS. They're really important to the story and I love them but I'm terrified of accidentally writing them "wrong" or just plain unlikable. It means so much that you like them, foul-mouthed and messy and rude as they can be :D

HAHAHAHAHA WE DID WE SOOOO DID but I'm sorry the trope is right there it'd be illegal if I didn't use it

"Kneel..." Omg now you need to tell me which crushtype your MC was! I wanna know the exact scene you got hehe

No, sorry. He won't stop. And also, it'll take some time for him to believe the MC, but don't worry, he'll come around! And the others, too. Soon. But for the moment, Basil is the only one who believes MC without reservation.

Also very very happy you enjoyed the local grumpycat. That's really the best moniker for Sawyer, but don't worry, they have a heart ^^ somewhere in there.

The therapy session was like writing a scabbed wound, I was really hoping to make it feel like a hug... if that makes sense

Love love love that I got to scare you! So happy! And your lengthy ask means so much to me, thank you <3

#if: such happy campers #if: wip #interactive fiction #hosted games #choicescript game #dashingdon wip

[oscconfessions]

PSA: Humanized objects are talked about way too much on this blog. You guys really should pick a different topic. We’re in the OBJECT show community, not human show community. If you want to discuss human characters all day long I don’t know why you’re even in this fandom. TDI is right there pal.

Look, I’ll even bring in some facts to prove my point. I went through the entirety of the asks posted in May, there’s 460 in total as of me submitting this one. And of those asks, 30 are about humanizations. You may not think that’s a lot, but when you put it into percentage, you get 6.52%. You may still not think that’s a whole lot, but guess what, it actually is. The ideal amount of gijinka discussion on this blog is 0%, because almost all of the asks from this month were related to controversy. Clearly, talking about them causes drama, and thus the topic should be banned from this blog.

I hope we can all calmly come to this conclusion and collectively cease sending asks about humanized objects.

i meannn gijinkas are a part of the osc in the sense they are the same object character just drawn in a different form. the fact that theyre drawn in a different way that isnt an object is completely irrelevant to the fact it’s just a fan’s interpretation of an osc character. idfk, stupid example but its the only one i can think of right now, its like saying that one part of my little pony where they were humans instead of horses isnt part of the franchise cause the franchise is called my little pony and theyre not horses. false advertising.

osc is a fitting term for the community but its also not a defining term. like if it were any other community for any other fandom where the species is not listed in the community name it’d be fine. like fuckinnn …,,i dunno, drawing spongebob characters as furries. thatd still be considered spongebob fanart. so why is it different when it comes to the osc. some people just like drawing humans.

also it’d be similar to if we banned all discussion of aus and fanfiction and headcanons and otherwise not canon interpretations of shows here, because its not canon and is a different form of what the character actually is.

theres also no alternative for only osc gijinka confessions. not yet at least. or that im aware of. so. let the people yap!! they have no where else to go!!!

also gijinka discourse is just funny💔💔

does this make sense idk if this makes sense ummmmm maybe im just stupi d sorry for yapping hiii-📻

#confession #mod response #skips the queue

[emile-hides]

If I ever send you an ask please know I spent at least 10 minutes staring at a blank ask box trying to phase my statement in a way that both sounds like something a human person would say with their mouth and conveys whatever the hell I’m trying to tell in you a “We’re probably not close enough to call friends but I just wanted to say this at you” kind of way

#Request or just a comment on a thing if I sent it in an ask it took me 20 minutes guaranteed #90% of the reason I send asks is because the person I am sending it to asked for them and like #Well if I wanted asks that's exactly what I would do and hope someone would send an ask #you want asks you send asks right?? That makes sense to me #What's the point of this post? #Dunno #I've been watching Fairy Tail all day now and eating icing out of the bag my brain is off and my mouth words are incomprehesable

[charmac]

hey seth! i'm just a random guy that's been really into sunny for the past year, and i always love your tweets. you, loren, and anna have been on my fyp a lot the past weekend, and i know a lot of people are being assholes about it, but it's genuinely so heartwarming to see. you three definitely deserve it and are the best kind of people for this to happen to. you always come off as respectful of rcg. hope you can pass the message along to them both too! have a great day

Thank you for the kind message, I really really appreciate it and so do Anna and Loren! Glad you got into the show :)

Honestly I get people are lashing out/shit talking because it does seem kinda weird to witness through a screen how much we’ve been able to interact with them and the interactions we’ve had. I know people are jealous, too (as in have told me they are, and I was certainly jealous last year when Rob didn’t do any events in NYC bc he was sick but did them in Philly a few days later) and I totally get that. Whatever the reason for people being assholes is, I don’t really take it personally. They don’t know the full story of literally anything that happened, they’re just watching through a screen and making their own assumptions of before, after, and in between all these clips they’re seeing, and trying to find something to justify how they feel. The claims that I’ve been ‘stalking’ them or ‘overstepping boundaries’ are genuinely just funny to me when every place we’ve met them has been an event that was publicly posted to Instagram/Facebook well in advance.

(And I’m not gonna talk on Twitter about certain details of this, but I feel like I can probably disclose here that the Four Walls people approached me to tell me/give me things and not the other way around. Their socials dmed me, followed me, Rob followed me, etc. I had literally no sway in them choosing to do those things or introducing themselves to me in person and organically engaging in conversations with me.)

We want to share our interactions with RCG on social media because we think most people appreciate and enjoy their interactions with fans (and also the small amounts of Sunny info we got), and that’s it. I don’t need to share or brag about anything. I would be perfectly content keeping everything that happened this weekend to myself (I very much avoid otherwise sharing my face or voice on social media, so I genuinely have to overcome that insecurity to even be able to share these things), but we know the majority of fans like to see this stuff and that’s why we have been posting everything.

Your message (and others i’ve received) means a lot. I’m glad the majority of people are enjoying our interactions with them and I really appreciate the time you spend to send this ask, really! And I’ll be back to posting regularly scheduled actual Sunny content very shortly :)

#ask #like how do i explain #charlie literally walked right up to us #and had to be DRAGGED away #bc he didn’t want to stop talking to us #it sounds literally delusional and made up #like i gen wouldn’t believe that if it didn’t happen to me lol #same shit with my phone screen #ppl thinking i forced him to look at macdennis fanart #literally just comical #but i can’t explain the context #it all sounds made up bc it’s surreal it happened #so honestly ? anyone can feel however they want #about interactions and clips. cos yeah i would maybe be sus as well #like literally what is happening #but shittalking on my posts or in my mentions #or sending me weird shit on anonymous #i’m not gonna entertain or accept lol #nameless faceless people who don’t understand 5% of what happened this weekend #trying to tell me what happened to me is just funny #again cos it’s. literally mind boggling to me #so i accept a lot of ppl just. will be pissed cos it makes no sense #these are 47 year old ‘cishet’ men #with a certain public perception #and yeah you bet your ass i was shocked at how they interacted with us #but i know how it went #i know how they feel #and i think most of you do too :)

[rosicheeks]

Nah not sick of seeing your tits and cute outfit everytime I check and scroll through my feed. Keep flashing us!

-🐻‍❄️

🫣

#oh shit is it really every time you scroll 🫣 #ooooopsiessss my baaaad #I just think I look super cute tbh #also rose lingerie for rosicheeks????? just makes sense right 😂 #ngl #I just really want to have someone to send all my cute lewd/nudes to and have them lose their fucking mind #there was this TikTok I saw of this man absolutely worshiping the ground his girl walked on #he was complimenting her and hyping her up like crazyyyy #apparently she said she didn’t like her hair or something before the video and he was like excuse me? EXCUSE ME YOUR HAIR IS PERFECT #and it wasn’t just the generic oh you look good or oh you’re beautiful but he went into DETAIL #and I’m like yup #that’s the shit I want thanks #ask #🐻‍❄️ anon

[rox-of-iu]

got ghosted by sticker printing company 😔😔😔very sad

#o(-( #s s tick i es (tearful) #just to clarify its not like they took my money and dipped nah i havent made the order yet #i just sent them a question if theyd be able to print it and they said ye just to make the cut lines in vector #so i replied with my attempt asking if they can use it like this or if it needs to be diff (i just transformed the lines from raster) #so prolly not usable so i said if they cant use it that id pay the fee for them to do it #and then i havent heard from them back jhsdkfsd #and like its been more than a week and the first reply from them was sent the day after so.. #so idk if they just missed my mail or if they just said fuck you in particular actually we dont want to deal with you hahhajh #like the wait would make sense if they were making the cut lines....but they wouldnt just jump into it without informing me first right #that makes no sense #oh well #ue ue ue #and no im already too embarrassed i cant send them another mail asking whats up #and i cant also act like nothing happened and fix the lines from scratch and just order it from their site without asking more info #cuz.... i still dont know how they want the files to look ITS NOT EXPLAINED ANYWHERE #like do u want svg file with layers or do u want two separate pdfs I DON KNOOooooo #sigh #i could call them and pretend to be rando just interested in possible future order asking how its done hahaa nothing to do with me #head in hands 😔🤡 this is so embarrassing #and any other local stickie printing places dont spark joy this one was perfect in placement and everything #usually i wouldnt have the courage to pursue this any longer but i REALLY want those stickers hashadk #on one hand...anxiety.. on the other stickies 💞💓😊 #we'll see which one will win xD #cheerio now #i just reread this and i would like to reiterate i am a wholeass adult ok im just disaster ok i swear im not a child please hajahj #my social anxiety is just unparalleled ✨ #ok bye now lol

[faggyangel]

Nate’s bad actions are taken so much more seriously by the narrative itself than everyone else’s that fandom starts to think they’re just being principled by pretending he’s evil and wasn’t just in need of some cathartic yelling.

No, I agree, I think in some cases, the fandom's hatred for a character of color is mostly based on just them being racist but I think in this case, it's actively both the show and the fandom. Like, the show itself frames Nate in a certain light that it just doesn't for white characters. He's always been framed as a "loser" or "vicious" even if he's valid in the way he's feeling. In one episode, Ted worries about something crushing Jamie's soul and Nate laughs a little but when Ted looks at him, Nate apologizes and we move on. It's small moments like this that I feel lack nuance. Yes, Nate wanting to hurt Jamie is not a progressive or healthy way of dealing with his anger towards him HOWEVER Jamie did belittle, bully, and harass him in his place of work. That is WORK PLACE HARASSMENT that Nate had to deal with every time he clocked in. Both things can be true at once. Nate is dealing with his anger in an unhealthy way AND Nate has a right to that anger. (Funny how everyone was so concerned with Keeley and Jack having a work place affair and Trent being yelled at in the locker room but no one wanted to acknowledge the severity of what Nate was going through for years). This is never acknowledged, not by the show or the fandom. The fandom doesn't want to sympathize with him, they don't want nuance. They want to hate him. They don't just want to see him as a bad person, they don't want to see him as a person at all. They wanted Nate to just forgive and forget, they wanted him to be quiet about how he was feeling. They liked him better when he was small and "meager" so that they could infantilize or ignore him. They never had to come to terms with the fact that Nate is a full person, with anger and kindness and pain and sadness. It reminds me a lot of when Sam was angry with Ted for bringing Jamie back on the team, that anger lasting for one episode when Led Tasso was brought in to bully everyone, forcing Jamie to step up and defend them. Then, after that, Sam had apparently forgiven him? They're friends now, I guess, without Jamie ever having to directly apologize to Sam specifically, without ever having that conversation one on one. Sam just moves on. That's what the fandom wants Nate to do. They don't want him to step outside that box and get angry at all their "beloved, defenseless white characters." Sam is written without flaws, he's only ever briefly angry but for the most part, he's just happy Sam so the fandom loves him. Unlike Nate, who has taken out his insecurities on other characters. Nate, who can be mean or sad or flawed in a way that the fans don't like because it's the wrong kind of flawed. They want an excuse to hate him, they always have, they've always had an unexplainable anger towards him and the show gives them a lot of excuses because he's never framed with too much nuance, his actions are always treated with severity while other characters (primarily white ones) are treated with leniency. When Rebecca has this same kind of arc, she's forgiven and sympathized with. When Jamie has this kind of arc, he's forgiven and sympathized with. I've seen videos on youtube called "10 minutes of Jamie Tartt being iconic" and most of it is just him bullying people (guess what, it's mostly Nate). I'm not hating on that video or the person who made it, but I haven't seen the same kind of attitude towards Nate. People don't see his confidence as iconic, or his awkwardness as relatable, or his anger as real, or his sadness as vulnerable, or his frustration with the team and Ted as understandable. They don't want to, the show doesn't force them to. Anyone who says they don't understand Nate's anger is choosing not to understand. It's easier for them to not acknowledge the failings of their favorite white characters or their own biased feelings towards complex characters of color.

#you guys gotta stop asking me about nate i get way to into it i have a sociology project guys #im kidding please keep sending me stuff like this i love talking about nate i could do it until i die #ive seen people saying “well until he gets a redemption arc i hate him!” girlypop what do you think is happening?? #“nate's evil!1!1!” And is Evil Nate in the room with us right now? #does any of this make sense or is it just me babbling for like ten hours #nate is amazing and complicated and beautiful and i want him carnally <3 #thats another thing > people don't view nate as conventionally attractive and beautiful #which makes them hate him even more #SUCKS FOR YOU I WANT HIM SO BADLY #this got long im sorry as always #nate shelley #ted lasso #nate tag

[walkcycle]

genuine question abt ur bio.. whats wrong w little women? idk anything abt it :0 hope u have a good day!!

yes... what IS wrong w little women? in short it annoys me. i find it annoying. when i have to talk to little women lovers i start to go crazy and insane like that post about going on youtube without adblocker and turning into the riddler. i find the way most people discuss little women to be at best dick sucking levels of critical thinking (meaning none. they are just sucking dick) which whatever that's your business. but i love patterns and thinking and ripping books up so it does not work for me. mainly what i think is wrong w little women: people still talk about it. stop making movie adaptions stop WATCHING these movies adaptions stop it just stop it !!!!

little women well reading it you have fun. or i had fun. and the reason i had fun is because i have a parasocial relationship with louisa may alcott and i justknow she was a hater and i DO know she hated little women (this is because she is dead and you can just read her diary). but unfortunately other people that read little women and had fun well they don't have this insane girl bond with alcott so they aren't haters. alcott thought the concept for the book was boring and she only turned to writing it after facing critical failure with previous works. by critical failure i don't mean failure of critical levels i just mean critics did not like it. critics read moods and were like wow alcott you should try to unlearn the written word this sucks and she was like ok go fuck yourself what if i wrote the most boring shit on earth kill yourself and that's what makes reading little women fun the whole thing is double speak you know with every sentence alcott is mocking the entire book and the views presented in it she hated women she was like god this sucks.

alcott did not view the book as progressive she was having to include all kinds of shit... that book was about a household centered around a man and written to mirror books like pilgrims progress (pilgrims progress is this christian allegory like how narnia is about christianity like that only not fun). after it became popular she had to pull back on literally all the fun stuff in it bc she was so hateful and annoyed towards her fans she was like god can you all SHUT UP? just for that everyones lives are going to be miserable just for that im going to write the worst endings on earth for these little bitches and then she did and giggled with her friends about it

ok i lost my main point. my main point abt america just never shutting the fuck up about little women. to me these people just dont get it they literally dont theyre like wow little women...... feminist book about women written by a woman....... this is soooo great we should keep talking about these white women for the rest of all time like omg they literally had servants. be real. but people just continue to praise it without having anything of substance to say like ok girl can we move on can we talk about other books why are we stuck in the white women jogging track just walking around and around can we get out of here. people use little women and its impact on american culture as an excuse to just keep circling around white women it is literally 2023 can we talk about something else. little women fans are just insufferable to me they're trapped in this little women loop where because little women is "progressive" (i have other thoughts about this too) they never have to consider works by other groups of minorities and they never have to consider if theres anything fucked up and twisted about or being mainlined by its narrative. little women is an insincere book and its thematic messages are also insincere and if you read it knowing this then you can become an insane crazy guy like me and then i would loveeee to talk about little women with you. but unfortunately no one is doing this

#asks #yes im a hater. its very complex. #yes this post is incoherent. yes im still right. lots of moving parts here #i used to go on long winded rants about little women i used to call my sister and just be like i NEED to be a hater. can i be a hater #diary entry #little women #ive been reminded now of the time i used to be completely insane about this i might just start ranting and raving about little women now #yaaaaay thank you for sending a cute little ask and reading my tumblr about page i love you forever <3 #if you want to know anything ever just ask me i love to talk etc. sorry if this does not make any sense at all

[constantvariations]

If I have to see someone being accused of "worshiping a white man" one more time I'm tossing the planet into a black hole

Get a new phrase, you goddamn illiterate bastards

#rwde #also stop hiding behind moral pedestals abt a show that fucks up every heavy subject it even thinks abt #you are defending the white men who wrote sienna to exist for five seconds before being brutally murdered on screen #dont bring race into it unless youre willing to acknowledge the racism within the show stems from its racist writers #also stop fucking harassing people who want to be left alone #im literally right here w my asks open and anon on so send me your dumb little hate speeches #and be creative abt it if you actually want a response #yall are basically copy pasting each other at this point. its embarrassing #send yalls shit thru google translate a few times. itll make the same amt of sense

[wifegideonnav]

homestuck is getting SAD and i don’t WANT THIS i want to read about shitty children lovingly bullying each other i don’t want to watch them sobbing over each other’s corpses :/

#I’ve gotten stuck in reread village #just refinished act 3. skipping the stupid intermission. so not too long from now I will be right back at the sad parts #it’s just like. i think part of the reason i latched onto hs over christmas is bc a piece of engaging media with an interesting plot/ #relatable and lovable characters/CRUCIALLY a very stupid sense of humor was exactly what I needed #and now I’m like. invested and it’s getting angsty. which I am into!!! but I’m like. v stressed out rn #which makes me fragile #and so I want my fiction to be an escape yk? which it can’t really be (at least not that kind of escape) if it gets my emotions up #but it’s like I rly want to get to act 6 #I’m 2/3(?) of the way through 5.2 so I’m almost there #and I really want them all to get together + I’ve been promised lots of juicy character development and relationship building #but I also know it keeps getting angstier #and so idk what to do lol!!! #whatever rant over I’ll figure it out #my friend and I have been reading out loud a lot so that’s probably how I’ll do it #bc it’s more fun plus I can yell with her and also hit her when I’m mad that I started it in the first place lol #bc of the angst #(she’s starting htn soon and I can’t wait for the roles to be reversed teehee) #anyway. rant over for real now #if youre still reading this send me a spoiler free ask about how much you love terezi or kanaya or something #op #hs