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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Text

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers.

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door.

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this.

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door.

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth.

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up.

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it.

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety.

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement.

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care.

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves.

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone.

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you.

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are.

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh.

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex?

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours.

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly.

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it.

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now.

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it.

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt.

"Goodnight," he whispers back.

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that.

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

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache.

But you’re just friends.

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away.

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep.

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt.

Friends.

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer.

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips.

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away.

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words.

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing.

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words.

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you.

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment.

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again.

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses.

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck.

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there.

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later.

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you.

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you.

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum.

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders.

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs.

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans.

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want.

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close.

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course.

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty.

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway.

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently.

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt.

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about.

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further.

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway.

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know.

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words.

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you.

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation.

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way.

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut.

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating.

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation.

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit.

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes.

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet.

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb.

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing.

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter.

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck.

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you.

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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justporo · 4 months

Text

Lost between the covers

When outside a blizzard is raging, there is nothing better than cuddling up with your vampire for a little reading date, right? Well, if you can pick a book to agree on...

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Getting cozy" prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge. Shortly ago I wrote a little thing about Astarion and books - and then immediately knew I had to write more about it for the fluff challenge. The bad erotica short stories thing was inspired by another post (I'll link if I can find it, if someone has it, please halp, I can't find anything on this hellsite) and also ofc there have been several posts going around on how Astarion is a Drizzt fan.

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 1,4k ~~~

The burning logs crackled in the fireplace while the flames licked on them and flickering warm light filled your living room. Outside a snow storm had been raging the whole day and hadn't stopped even when night had fallen. Wind was howling around the house, and little specks of ice were thrown so hard by the gusts, they made clattering noises against the big living room window.

It didn't bother you at all. You didn’t even spare it any attention at all anymore. The rising and ebbing of the howling wind and the crackling of the fire had become nothing but pleasant background noise.

You were all cosily snuggled up on Astarion's lap, legs swung over his, head on the vampire's shoulder, a blanket wrapped thoroughly around you. The pale elf’s feet were comfortably crossed over each other at the ankles on the floor. His head slightly rested on the crown of yours and he had put his arms lightly around your frame while holding a small leatherbound book he was reading to you from.

The whole scene was just complete and utter bliss - you didn’t remember the last time you had felt such serene peace. Perhaps you never had.

And if you would have asked him, Astarion would have told you very much the same. The vampire might never get used to the feeling of having you close, feeling the warmth of your body slowly seeping into his own as you relaxed into him, fully trusting him. He’d never known or shared this kind of closeness with anyone before.

And he wouldn’t give it up anymore for anything in the world - not even for being able to walk in the sun again.

At first Astarion had made a fuss when you had started to climb on his lap like a cat. But you'd been feeling rather sick for a while now and felt you were entitled to some pampering from your partner. And of course Astarion actually loved that he was that to you: the person you came to because he was your safe haven - not to mention the love of your life.

But the vampire still had wrestled you off his lap once more while you had pouted.

“Ah ah, patience, my darling. I'm only setting us up so we can stay all neatly cuddled up for the rest of the night,” he'd lectured you and had inclined his head towards you while doing a little bow.

“I don't know, Astarion, you being the one talking about having patience somehow feels cynic to me,” you'd replied and wrapped your arms around you to stay warm.

Astarion's eyes had narrowed dangerously at you, tongue in cheek, before he had turned on his heel and left without another word. You probably had only made him take his sweet time now. With a sigh you had sunk back onto the piece of furniture

He had returned some time later with a stack of different books under his arm, a cup of hot tea for you and some mulled wine for himself.

Astarion had scoffed at first at the premise of drinking “fine wine ruined with spices and fruit, my love - why not immediately make me drink juice with seasoning, ugh.” But then he had started to enjoy it quite quickly.

You scurried to make place for your vampire on the sofa. Then putting the mugs down on the small table beside the couch, the vampire sat down beside you again, balancing books of different size and condition on his legs.

“So, tell me my love, what shall we read?”, he asked cheerfully while you just eyed the stack of books on his lap - they were in your spot.

Astarion looked at you cockily, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to give a response. You just slowly blinked at him. Your brain was mushy and foggy from being sick - you weren't up to make important choices, but you tried to pull yourself together. Astarion was awful at downplaying how excited he seemed to just snuggle up with you on the couch with a book and you surely wanted to indulge him.

“Well, what's on offer?”, you finally asked in response.

Astarion jumped right back into action with a pleased grin: “I'm so glad you asked, my love.”

He lifted up the first one of the books: small, blue, golden lettering on the front and spine. “We have a nice small volume of poetry - the writing is a bit too sappy for my liking, personally, but this poet's been all the rave lately, so I had to form an opinion on that of course.”

“Of course,” you chimed in with a knowing little smile. It was insanely cute to you how much enthusiasm the vampire had for literature.

You had drawn your legs up to sit on them and were now leaning your elbow on your knees, chin in your hand, looking at Astarion who lifted up the next book - a huge, very old looking, leather-bound tome.

“We have one of the most holistic and elaborate accounts of history of our wondrous city of Baldur’s Gate”, the vampire went on, putting on some scholarly demeanour. Gods, he almost reminded you of Gale for a second. You blinked a few times to get that out of your head.

Then you eyed the dusty and crumbly book with a scrunched up nose: “You don’t really want to read that, do you?”

Astarion looked at you in confusion: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nerd”, you simply said. “Next!”

The vampire’s red gaze narrowed at you in distaste. He still held up the huge leatherbound chronicles in his hands.

“One comment about how I grew up on the streets and am uncultured, Astarion, and I will bite you!”, you threatened and stuck a finger in his face.

Immediately the pale elf put on a smug grin. “Would be a nice change for once, don’t you think?”, he muttered in a sultry tone while you just rolled your eyes and groaned. “But alright, I understand that the audience may be a little… overwhelmed with this suggestion”, he continued in one of his insufferable ways and went to carefully place down the huge tome on the wooden floor.

You still felt like you had been made fun of but you let it slide for now.

“Alright, next up we have this titillating collection of obnoxiously bad erotica short stories,” Astarion continued and lifted up a much smaller book again - this one bound in linen in a deep red colour. The vampire was back at grinning lewdly at you, one eyebrow lifted high.

“Is this where you got all your lines from?”, you asked dryly.

Astarion’s expression immediately turned sour. “Alright, we’re not reading this one”, he said in a flat tone, glowering angrily at you. He threw the book over his shoulder and heard how it clattered to the ground - always so dramatic.

Meanwhile you had started cackling so much you had to bury your face in your hand for a moment. Under his breath you heard Astarion mutter something about why he hadn’t “just chosen about anyone else to manipulate and end up with”.

Quickly, you went to lean forward and grab his face to cherish it with a kiss. Despite his still disgusted face the pale elf welcomed the loving attention. When you pulled away you kept holding his face in your hands: “You’re stuck with me, love.”

“Good thing, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else then”, Astarion replied and leaned in again for another kiss.

Afterwards,sitting up straight again, Astarion sighed dreamily while his eyes lingered on you.

“What’s the last one?”, you asked after a while of the vampire seemingly just getting lost in your eyes.

“Hm?” he made, raising his eyebrows. Then he shook his head softly to focus again while you grinned to yourself knowingly.

Astarion lifted up the last pick in his stack of books he’d brought: “Well, the last one is another adventurous tale of Drizzt Do’Urden.”

Your head perked up when you heard that.

Astarion had introduced you to the legendary tales of Drizzt a while ago now and despite brushing it off at first you had gotten seriously into the stories. And another one of those stories sounded just about right for a stormy winter night and for cuddling up for the rest of the night.

Eagerly, you climbed on Astarion’s lap without any other responses. The vampire just laughed while he allowed you to cosy up to him and finally sealed the deal by putting an arm around you, with his other hand opening up the book already.

“Alright, looks like we have a winner”, he mused playfully and dragged you in a little closer on his lap so he could press another kiss to the top of your head.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #bg3holidayfluffle23 #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. V

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,342

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jk has milk obsession, oc injured, both lonely :(, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: I've heard the requests and I think it's time to fulfill them–how did they get together?! Yes, it's here and I'm excited to finally share! Also, yes this took up whole chapter so a tiny break from present-day stuff but we'll be back at it next chapter. 💞

<< ch. IV ༓ ch. Vl >> | series masterlist

Before marrying you, Jungkook had the same routine. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, put work clothes on, grabbed breakfast, and ran out the door with twenty minutes to spare. Trying to find a parking spot at 7 a.m. at the university was no joke and he had to leave early or some college kid would take the last spot and not think twice.

His night routine was similar. Jungkook finished the day between 5 and 6 pm, slowly regretting he ever agreed to teach evening classes. He’d kick off his shoes, eat dinner, grade some of his student’s papers if needed, brush his teeth again, and went to bed.

It was a constant cycle and with no one around, not even a pet, Jungkook’s life was fairly quiet and systematic. Sometimes his buddies would come over on the weekend for a couple of hours and that surely rocked his world.

But that wouldn’t happen often during the school season due to his ridiculously packed teaching schedule. The most recent person he’d hang around during those months was Taehyung and if he wasn’t free, Jungkook would spend his time at the grocery store–stocking up on milk.

4 years ago

“That was two weeks ago man,” Jungkook says, pushing a cart with five-gallon jugs of milk to his car. He’s on the phone with Taehyung who's reminiscing about the grand opening of the new art exhibit and how “lovely” it was to meet you there.

Jungkook doesn’t need reminding though.

He clearly remembers seeing you there and Taehyung happily making a complete fool of him once he found out who you were. Thankfully you hadn’t seemed to mind too much since you and Taehyung soon moved on to discuss various art theories, masterpieces, and underrepresented artists.

“You didn't have to stay y'know.” If Jungkook didn't know any better he'd think Taehyung was salty. "You could've left at 8 pm like you planned. __ and I would have been fine."

Jungkook winces hearing the man's argument. He did think about going home at 8, but it unsettled him to leave you alone with Taehyung. His colleague was enjoying himself a little too much that night and there’s no telling what he’d do or say when he’s overly comfortable.

Jungkook had to stay until you left.

"Are you kidding me? Leaving you unsupervised would've been the worst idea after all your endless blubbering." Jungkook pops the trunk of his car, stuffing the jugs of milk inside. "God knows what you'd scar __ with."

On the other line, Taehyung smirks through the speaker. "No, that's not it......you weren't going to leave me alone with a woman, an attractive one at that."

Jungkook grabs the last jug of milk, slamming it on the floorboard. "Student, and stop talking about her like that. She's my stu—"

"Say student one more time and I'm going to take all your milk and give it to Yoongi hyung's cats."

"I swear to god, Taehyung, if you touch my milk I'm never going to another art museum or wine tasting with you again." Jungkook is very protective of his dairy products.

"That's okay. I don't need you when __ says she'll be happy to go with me sometime." Smug bastard, Jungkook thinks. There's no way you said that.

"That's bull Taehy—"

"Look she's in her masters and is literally eight years younger than you. It's not that serious so stop acting like she's fresh out of high school. Besides, you said it yourself, she's not a child."

Jungkook grunts, shoving the cart into the others. "She's a young lady who happens to be enrolled in the school. As faculty, we have no business thinking or talking about her outside those terms."

"For fucksake, Kook. You always make things so complicated!" Taehyung's baritone voice cracks through the speaker. "I'm just trying to get you to admit that you're into her some way or another. How many other students have I stayed to talk to and you couldn't give a—"

Just then a loud, high-pitch screech interrupts the call. Jungkook whips his head around immediately. He doesn't spot anything at first but a string of profanities remains audible in the distance.

"Jungkook, are you okay?"

"Yeah, but someones screaming and I can't tell where it's coming from." Jungkook walks around the grocery parking lot, eyes darting left and right. "Oh shit!"

There, near the bus stop, you lay on your side with your right leg stretched out and blood running from your temple. You try getting up but you fall right back down, cursing sharply.

"Taehyung I gotta go, it's __. I don't know what happened but she's laying by the bus stop and I think she needs help!" Jungkook shuts his phone and races to where you lay. He kneels next to you with sheer horror on his face. "__, what happened? What can I do?"

"Damn college boys, Dr. Jeon," you spit, dragging your leg up as far as you can. You reach for your bag which had flung about a foot away when you crashed. "So fucking eager to get off the bus and—oh damn that hurts like a bitch!"

"What hurts?" Jungkook lunges forward to catch your torso from slamming on the hard concrete. "Stay still okay? We need to get you to the hospital."

"I'm all set, but thanks. It'll likely heal in a day."

Jungkook shakes his head and wraps an arm under your back and legs. "Can you put your arms around my neck?"

"Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but I don't want to go to the hospital. Please."

You're serious. No trace of bluffing or even simply trying to act tough. You really don't want to go.

"You need to be checked by a doctor sweetheart," Jungkook insists. "Whatever happened has made it so you can't walk. C'mon, my car is nearby and I'll drive you over."

"No, wait!" He feels you push against his chest.

"__. I'm not leaving you without making sure you didn't break a bone or something. I don't want to make things worse but you don't look so hot right now. So please, let me take you." Jungkook lifts you up when you give a barely consenting yes.

"You sprained your ankle pretty bad hun." Dr. Kim Seokjin draws your attention to the X-ray scan. "Second degree." He points to the visual of your partially torn ligament. "There's going to be a lot of swelling so you're gonna need to stay off your foot for at least 4 weeks."

"Do I have to stay here?" is your first question.

"For the first couple of weeks, we strongly advise—yes." Dr. Kim moves on to the next X-ray scan. "You also cracked a rib which will also take about 4 weeks to heal, or more. Of course you're head has suffered a mild concussion as well but it's very mild thankfully." Dr. Kim catches sight of Jungkook next to you, staring at the scans. "You're wife's going to be okay," he says mid-diagnoses.

"We're not—" you start to say but Dr. Kim continues talking.

"Wife, girlfriend, lover, what have you. The point is, much of what we have here will recover with a month of rest, ice, and elevation." He takes a pen from his pocket and starts jotting down something on paper. "I recommend two weeks here for moderation purposes. If things look good, you finish the healing at home. Still, be careful though, no funny business."

The blank looks on both your faces tell Dr. Kim he wasn't clear enough. "Yah, my filters going to die with you two doe-eyed deer. No funny business means no sex!"

"Oh god!" You outburst, mortified by the thought. Jungkook whips his head to your slack-jawed expression. "Dr. Kim, it's not like that between us."

The older man suddenly zeros in on your professor, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's the matter son? Having trouble getting it up?"

Jungkook jolts in his seat, startled by the crass response. "I—no, what? There's nothing wrong with my—"

"We're not together!" You shout before Jungkook's sentence finishes. "We're friends." Saying that your professor brought you here sounded a little odd for some reason, especially when Dr. Kim was already convinced you two were a thing.

"Mhm sure, heard the same thing from my wife before we went off and eloped." Dr. Kim treads to the door. If he has a dime for how many times he's heard that "we're friends" bs he'd be...well, he's already rich so never mind. "Let's move on to something more productive now, like getting __ settled in a room. The sooner she starts the healing process, the sooner she can be good as new again."

"Thank you Dr. Kim," Jungkook says, slowly standing up to stroll you and your wheelchair out of the room. You didn't like it but the nurses insisted you be in one to keep pressure off your muscles.

"Yeah yeah." Dr. Kim waves him off. "Just remember what I said, no funny business. Especially here at the hospital. You don't know how many times I've heard the nurses catching their patients on top of one another at 2 am in the morning. That better not be you two, whoever you are to each other."

"Yes, doctor." You both reply, thankful of the fact that neither of you are in any position to be looking at each other.

"Is there any way I can be here for less than two weeks?" Jungkook watches as you plead with the nurse. It worries him that you're still anxious to avoid medical attention.

"I'm afraid not," the nurse says simply. "If you need anything, press the call button and I'll be in as soon as I can."

Once the nurse leaves, Jungkook pulls up a chair next to your bed. "Stupid question but how are you feeling?"

"I'm in an ankle brace, my rib burns, and my head is still dizzy. I'm trapped in the hospital for two weeks and all because a bunch of nineteen-year-old boys couldn't wait to hit up some frat party," you groan, not bearing in mind your tongue. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Dr. Jeon."

"You didn't drag me into anything __. I'm glad I was there when this happened and I'm even more glad that you're here, getting help." Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. "Even if it isn't ideal for you."

You ignore the subtle pry for information. "Please, Dr. Jeon. You don't have to stay any longer. It's the weekend and I'm sure you have plans."

Jungkook gives a faint smile. "So, you're saying this is none of my business?"

"No, not—not at all. I mean if you want to stay then I guess you can but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything."

"I want to be here," Jungkook says simply. "But you know that's not what I meant. I'd like to know why it bothers you when anyone tries to help you...if I may."

"Just habit," you mumble quickly, averting eye-contact. It's not your professor's job to bear the weight of your problems.

Jungkook nods in reply, pretending you gave a satisfactory explanation. He wishes you'd tell him but if you didn't want to share more then that was your choice —he wasn't going to force you. "I understand." He grabs his phone from his pocket and rests his elbows on his knees. "Are you hungry?"

"Huh?" You look back at him, his question going right over your head.

"I asked if you're hungry. It's about dinner time so I can get you something if you want. I also have a bunch of milk in my trunk that needs to get to a fridge. But I can place the order now and pick it up in my way back here."

"Milk in your trunk?" Is the only words you repeat, dumbfounded. "Like chocolate milk or...?"

"Nah, Whole Milk." Jungkook grins at your scrunched up face. You try to hide it but not very well. "Don't look so disgusted. Milk is good for you."

"Yeah when you're ten years old."

"On the contrary!" You flinch when his voice rises, along with his eyebrows. "Milk has a lot of health benefits as adults. It has thirteen essential nutrients and helps maintain muscle and bone strength. I drink at least two full glasses a day, if not more."

"I'm sorry but that's nasty." You shudder at the thought of drinking milk in your twenties let alone your thirties. "You really enjoy it? The taste?"

"Yup, always have since a baby! Loved it so much that my mother-" You raise an eyebrow to which he abruptly switches topics. "Anyway, do you want me to pick you up something or no?"

You giggle, a little uncomfortable with whatever he was about to disclose to you.

"That's okay, no thanks."

"You sure? Otherwise I'm gonna be eating in front of you." Jungkook knows how this sounds — he's trying to force you to eat. But the truth is, he just doesn't want to eat by himself tonight. He also doesn't want to leave you alone this early, especially when you obviously detest being here, for whatever reason.

"I'm sure," you say. "But...if you want to come back you can. Not like I have anything to do anyway."

"Good then." Pleased, Jungkook opens up his phone contacts. "Give me you're number in case you change your mind while I'm out."

Over the next couple of weeks, Jungkook continues to stay by your side. He leaves to teach his classes of course and to go home late at night, but he stops by every day—hours at a time.

You keep insisting that he not come so much but he always makes the same excuses. "I just brought food" or "You're on my way home from the university". Sometimes he brings in class notes too.

Due to your current predicament, you're missing a lot of content so Jungkook thinks it best to go over key principles with you and takeaways from his lectures. He says it's his duty as a professor–never minding the fact that many of his other students are in a predicament of their own yet he’s not bothering to do jack for them.

"Look Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but you really don't have to. I'll be perfectly alright to catch myself up from the textbook and study guides. You don't have to keep stopping by." You try again but Jungkook keeps his wall just as strong as yours.

"I know I don't have to __. I know that I could leave right now, take all these lecture notes home with me, and not feel guilty about a thing. But I told you I was going to be here and I'm going to keep to that no matter how many times you urge me to leave. I also want you to call me Jungkook outside class but have you allowed for any of those to happen?" Jungkook tosses the folder of notes in his sachel, a loud thump following. "A simple thank you would suffice."

"I am grateful, I really am. But I never asked to be given so much of your time. I feel bad because maybe you're just one of those overly nice people who feel it's their duty to stick around or what not when someone's in trouble. I don't need to be pitied over! Also, you said I could keep calling you the usual, so Dr. Jeon it will remain!" Why you're raising your voice, you don't know but it's happening either way.

"Yeah I did," Jungkook quips, matching your tone. "But after the last, nearly two weeks I think we ought to be on a first-name basis! And I'm in no way pitying you okay? I'm here because I care dammit! I don't want you to be alone and I don't want you to be behind in getting your Masters. So I' try to be be here every day for at least fifteen minutes if not more!"

You don't fully process what he says so you reply to what you remember most. "Why? Why can't I call you Dr. Jeon? It's been that way from the start, twice every week. So why do I need to call you Jungkook all a sudden?!"

"Because it makes me feel younger, you insulted my milk after I first took you to the hospital, we've been eating dinner almost every night since your injury, you told me about your childhood cat named Mr. Muttonbottom, and you just called me by my first name so there are no take backs! Now, if you're done making a fit, do you want bibimbap or jajangmyeon for dinner tonight?!"

What the actual hell? You cease your arguing at once, hearing your professor, or excuse you, Jungkook, all fluffed up. Obviously, you're not the only one high-strung over being stuck in the same routine day in, day out.

"Jajangmyeon...please," you mutter.

"Thank fuck," he swears. Yeah that's new too.

"Sorry for getting mad earlier." You mumble the words as soon as Jungkook returns with the food. "It just feels odd that you've been here all the time...you're my professor."

Jungkook mauls over your choice of words, stiffening ever so slightly. "Well, I'd like to think we're sorta friends now but alright. Does this actually bother you __? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, you know that." He places the bag of take-out on the small desk near your bed.

"No, it's doesn't bother me." you just don't know how to react or what to say besides a measly thank you. More so, you don't want to make someone feel responsible for you...you should take care of your own shit without bringing others with you. It's not the best mindset, you're aware, but its the one you have.

"Okay good because to be completely transparent, I'm sorta here for me too. I live my myself, eat by myself, talk to myself....I do most things alone so it's nice having someone else to be around." He's not sure where to set his eyes, so he looks downward, fumbling with the napkins in front of him. "I'm making this awkward, sorry."

Feeling the strange need to offer comfort, you stretch a hand over Jungkook's arm. "I get it. It's nice having someone around too."

You and Jungkook hold each other's gaze for a few seconds more, letting the brief silence do the rest of the talking. Maybe you've been looking at this a little too one-sided.

"How are you feeling today? Any better?" Jungkook cracks open the bowl of Jajangmyeon, handing it to you with a pair of chopsticks.

You take the steamy food and gesture to your ankle which has swollen down a good amount. "Still more healing to be done but it's better."

Jungkook hums in approval. "That's comforting to hear. Dr. Kim going to discharge you soon?"

"Yeah, I think so. A few more days and he said I should be able to rest up at home."

"Really?" He chews on his bottom lip. "Well great, uhm , do you have stuff going on when you get back?"

You think a moment, trying to recollect if you made plans with Na-Rae. "Maybe some but not much. I don't have a ton of people around me right now either...down here I mean."

"Well, do you wanna go out to dinner then?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected. It's almost like he planned this or at least has been thinking about it for a bit. "We've been eating together for a while now and I think it might be a nice celebratory thing."

"Are you asking me on a date...Jungkook?" Because it defiantly sounds like he is, as indirect as it may be.

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well...let's go with "hang out", like friends do."

A/N: so yeah, thats how they got together 👀😅 anyone surprised? Thinking about a drabble for thier first date now haha. Anyway, next chapter we get back to present day stuff where more drama goes down. Also, adding a chapter bc this flashback took the whole chapter lol. Lmk your thoughts 💞

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inklore · 6 months

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after a year and a handful of months of debating on if i should, or wanted to, do commissions (and with some convincing and hyping from friends) i've decided why the heck not!

so to everyone whose ever complimented me and hyped me up for my themes and graphics thank you and you're definitely another driving force in this decision.

making graphics is therapeutic to me and i take a lot of pride and joy in doing it, from seeing everyone loving the things i create. and i want to share that pride and joy even more, sooo if you've ever struggled with making a good theme, feel too lazy to make one, need a banner for a fic or masterlist, a header, or just need someone to help your graphic vision come together; i'm here to provide!

before you commission something, or just want some examples, please check out my past work and portfolio!

PORTFOLIO | PINTEREST | ART TAG | GIFS

PLEASE THOROUGHLY READ THROUGH THE RULES!!!!

✶ all payments will be made through kofi or fiverr depending on what you're commissioning. if you'd rather go through paypal that is also a valid option just message me.

when it comes to commissioning anything details matter!!! i need complete details of what you want to be created. i will not accept something like 'floral vibe' or 'something with browns'. that gives me nothing. i need a vision, i need as much information as possible, examples (but do not take them from other creators please i will decline your commission), you can take inspo or examples from my own themes, or go through my pin board. the more details the better. the greater i can make your vision come into view. this is important!!!

i will not use other peoples art. do not ask for it to be included in whatever project i am creating. everything i make is for personal use only.

you will get two redos for me to change something you don't like about the theme. a preview of the finished product will be sent your way and you can ask for something to be completely re-done, but after that no changes will be made.

please include your user or where you want me to send your graphics within your request.

there's not a time span in which you have to use the theme or graphic for, but a week would be complimentary.

you can commission as many times as you wish after i've finished the first one.

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we do not have to be mutuals, nor do you have to be following me to commission something.

you don't have to outwardly give me credit but please do not claim my creations as your own.

if you have any questions before commissioning something my messages are always open and there is never a dumb question. please feel free to ask!

✶ fandoms i will not accept commissions for: anime, supernatural, our flags mean death, good omens (because i am not in them nor have enough knowledge on how to make the vision really suit said fandoms).

a full theme includes: a navigation banner and a header.

when commissioning a theme there are a few things that need to be mentioned and answered, so please include them in your request!

what kind of navi banner do you want? (refer to my portfolio for this, or if you just want something simplistic, big, small, medium, extra, messy, chaotic, etc)

what vibe are you going for? (dark academia, greek myth, ocean, dainty, horror, etc)

colors? (a must ok i need to know, if you give me none then i'm going to do whatever and choose what i think looks best and that's also fine if you want me to have complete creative liberties)

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what kind of header do you want? (a simple png that goes along with the navi colors and vibe, a whole other banner-esk graphic, none, etc)

✶ see the add ons section below if you want more things included in your theme.

now these add ons are only for themes. if you commission a header only, or gif, they will have their own add on options.

$1 - for dividers that match your theme in color and vibe (if you want symbol, graphic, or anything that's not color then the price goes up a dollar)

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$4 - a gif header or a gif included within the navi graphic (this is the highest price because finding clips, extracting scenes into caps, making the gif, coloring it to match the theme, blending, etc, is a lot lol)

a header commission includes: only a header. it is not a theme, just a mobile header, or a header for a masterlist, or fic.

the information needed for this commission are as listed below.

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ideas-on-paper · 14 days

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A hypothetical look at the childhoods of Carlo and Romeo

Despite Carlo and Romeo being two of the most central characters of Lies of P, what we know about their backstory is next to marginal. We know that the two of them went to school together and were best friends (perhaps even more than that), but their time in Monad Charity House is only presented in snippets and fragmented memories, and despite being highly significant, their characters remain elusive - like shadows cast over the entirety of the story, always present, never tangible.

Thus, many have filled the gaps left in their characterization with their own imagination. As for myself, I was curious what their early lives might have been like, before they met at Monad Charity House - and since it was the closest thing to the game's setting I could find, I did some research on Victorian children and their upbringing.

What I found out, however, left me absolutely shocked and made me keenly aware of just how awful Carlo and Romeo's childhood must have been, going by historic standards. As pretty much everything during the Victorian Era, a child's upbringing was very dependent on social class - however, no matter if you grew up in a rich or poor family, each came with its own kind of suffering, and regarding the question of "What were Carlo and Romeo's lives like before Monad Charity House?", the brief answer would be: "Probably not great."

As for the long answer... I should mention this is my own interpretation of Carlo and Romeo's backgrounds, and none of this is officially confirmed. However, given what we know about the two's origins, I consider it quite plausible, and what we can conclude from it might not only give us better insight into their personalities, but also some of the real-life background behind the original fairy tale of Pinocchio.

Just as a fair warning, though: This is about to get a little depressing.

[Spoilers for Lies of P!]

[CW: mentions of very questionable parenting methods, depression, suicidal ideation, poverty, parent death, child labor, abuse and exploitation of children]

Carlo

For this analysis, I'm going to assume that Carlo was born into a fairly well-off household. (The description of Carlo's portrait calls him "an aristocratic boy", and since Geppetto is the mastermind behind Krat's puppet technology, I assume he'd have his fair share of the profits.)

By the standard of their time, upper-class children were quite spoiled: Unlike their working-class peers, they never had to worry about who was going to provide food for them, and the horrors of child labor were never of any concern to them. You would think that being born into a rich family doesn't leave you a single thing to wish for - you'd have nice toys, fine clothes... and well, everything, except for parental affection.

For the most part of the day, upper-class children wouldn't even see their parents - they were only summoned to appear before them at a set hour of the day, and during these occasions, they had to address their fathers as "sir". Essentially, meeting your parents was more like an audience with a stranger, a rare privilege strictly regulated by formality. Children were expected to act prim and proper, only allowed to speak when spoken to, and thus unable to express their true feelings, thoughts, or opinions. Any show of affection was extremely rare - Winston Churchill (1874 - 1945) once remarked that he could "count the times he had been hugged by his mother" as a child.

The parents were more or less completely absent from their children's lives, and when there actually was interaction between them, the children were expected to unconditionally obey their parents. Osbert Sitwell (1892 - 1969) once commented: "Parents were aware that the child would be a nuisance and a whole bevy of servants, in addition to the complex guardianship of nursery and school rooms was necessary not so much to aid the infant as to screen him from his father or mother, except on some occasions as he could be used by them as adjuncts, toys or decorations." (Can you imagine? Geppetto taking Carlo to some big social event to show off his "perfect little son", and Carlo just standing there and silently enduring the ordeal, looking at his father all the while and wondering "Did he ever realize I'm not one of his puppets?")

So, by the standard of the time period Lies of P is set in, Geppetto neglecting his son isn't even anything terribly unusual - in fact, that's perfectly normal Victorian upper-class parent behavior.

Since they didn't take care of their children themselves, upper-class parents would hire a nanny to raise them. Nannies would be instructed what kind of behavior and morals the parents wanted instilled into their child, and they would be responsible for their education as well as teaching them manners, propriety, how to dress and so on. As such, the nanny effectively acted as a substitute for the parents - and given that maid puppets exist and Geppetto probably wouldn't let any strangers near Carlo, Carlo's nanny was most likely a puppet as well.

The daily life of upper-class children was based on strict routine - some like to say it operated with "clockwork regularity". Breakfast would be served at 8 o'clock in the morning, dinner at 12 o'clock, and tea at 6 o'clock.* Children would very seldom leave their room, except to take short walks in the park with their nanny. Education would mostly be given at home by a tutor, which included basic lessons like reading, writing, and arithmetic, but also "socially appropriate skills" like dancing and playing the piano. (Since we see a puppet giving piano lessons to a child in the intro, chances are Carlo's tutors were also puppets.)

*Eating times varied throughout the Victorian Era; a "dinner" might also be a meal eaten during midday.

The rest of the time, children would have nothing to do but to play with their toys (except on Sundays, which was forbidden). Rich families had the luxury of being able to afford the most elaborate of toys, such as automated dolls, clockwork trains, and jack-in-the-boxes, which were extremely popular among children. In fact, since clockmakers were also the ones to build toys, I could imagine Geppetto actually made the toys for Carlo himself. (However, I feel like this only would have made Carlo loathe them; in his eyes, it would've been proof that "father pays more attention to the toys he makes for me than actually looking at me".)

In short, the life of Victorian upper-class children was lonely, depressing, and stuffy to the point of suffocating. Given these circumstances, I would actually be surprised if this didn't leave mental scars on Carlo. It has been documented that a lack of parental affection causes psychological issues lasting all the way into adulthood, such as low self-esteem, trust issues, anxiety, difficulty with social relationships, and lack of emotional control. Also, considering Carlo was probably surrounded by puppet servants all day, he wouldn't even have had a single human being to interact with most of the time - something which most likely had a detrimental effect on his psyche.

Given this dreary existence, it would make absolute sense for Carlo to look nothing short of depressed in every depiction we see of him. The feeling of emptiness when being pressed into the corset of others' expectations is actually something I'm well acquainted with - it feels like walking beside yourself, like your body moving while actually feeling dead inside. A bit like a puppet on strings, if you will. With his life being a monotonous routine controlled by someone else, it wouldn't be surprising if Carlo had difficulty still seeing a purpose in it. (There have been some theories going around that Carlo committed suicide; at the very least, I think it's highly likely he had suicidal ideations during his youth.)

Perhaps this is where Pinocchio - the character from the fairy tale - might have become something like an identification figure for Carlo. Pinocchio was a puppet, but instead of doing what his creator intended - what his father expected - he did whatever he wanted. I'm sure Geppetto gave him the book as a measure to educate him, but it ended up having the opposite effect. In fact, it might have been what first taught him the concept of freedom: Geppetto's puppets only ever did what he told them to, executing the exact actions he had programmed them with, over and over again - but Pinocchio showed Carlo that it didn't have to be this way. (I've seen a lot of interpretations of Carlo disliking puppets, and while I can see where this is coming from, I don't think this is because Carlo disliked puppets in general. Rather, I think he saw them as "extended arms" of his father and a symbol of his need to control everything around him; otherwise, it would be a little strange for Carlo to be attached to the story of Pinocchio so much.)

However, I think beneath all the pent-up frustration and hatred, there was also the wish for his father to love and appreciate him. At the end of the book, Pinocchio returns to his father after all the hardships he had to go through, and the two reconcile and live happily ever after. Since Pinocchio's father goes looking for him when he disappears, perhaps Carlo believed that if he rebelled against him and put himself in danger, Geppetto would realize that he actually cared for him.

So, if Carlo was very prone to temper tantrums and acting defiantly towards his father, it might have been on one hand to show that he didn't want to be part of Geppetto's perfect stage play anymore, and on the other because he was vying for his attention. Due to his upbringing, however, Carlo wasn't really able to communicate his feelings in a proper way. (I like to imagine Carlo as a very emotional person, but having difficulty to actually express his feelings.)

Geppetto, however, wouldn't have the sensitivity to understand this - he most likely would've tried to rectify his son's "mischievous behavior" by disciplining, as was typical for the time period (in general, it was believed that you had to "beat the evil out of children" for them to become a good person). Of course, that wouldn't have made things better - in fact, I wonder if part of the reason Geppetto sent Carlo to Monad Charity House was that he was just at a loss what to do with the boy. Since all of his educational measures were fruitless, perhaps he thought that sending him to the boarding school would finally put Carlo on the right track - although the result of that probably was also quite different from what Geppetto expected.

Romeo

Meanwhile, poor Victorian children had to live in a completely different, brutal reality - for them, day-to-day life was a literal struggle to stay alive.

We know that Romeo was an orphan, and according to Eugénie, that's not much of a rarity in Krat. Indeed, street children existed in abundance during Victorian times: It wasn't uncommon for working-class children to lose one or both parents - due to unsanitary conditions in Victorian slums, many people died of disease, and given the hazardous working conditions in factories and coal mines, accidents were commonplace. However, the term of a Victorian orphan was actually a little broader than that, also extending to children who ran away from home due to hailing from alcoholic and neglectful families. Often, mothers who were single or had a child out of wedlock would also simply abandon their children. Whatever the reason for their situation, these children were forced to fend for themselves at a very young age.

In the Trinity Sanctum in Krat Central Station, there's a note mentioning a "pickpocket who was overconfident in a gamble" and "had his heart stolen and died". Since Romeo made "a deal with the devil" (the "devil" presumably being Geppetto who turned him into a puppet), people have interpreted this as referring to Romeo. Turing to crime to support themselves was not a rarity among poor Victorian children - in fact, half of the defendants tried at the Central Criminal Court of England and Wales between 1830 and 1860 were aged 20 or younger. There were even organized gangs of child thieves who were trained in pickpocketing by a "captain", similar to those from Charles Dickens' novel Oliver Twist. (However, the items that were stolen most often were actually not purses or pocket watches, but handkerchiefs; silk handkerchiefs had a pretty high resale value, and the thieves would take them from pockets, rip out the initials, and resell them for a good price.)

We can't be sure whether Romeo teamed up with a few other kids or not, but personally, I'd wager he did - it would be much safer to operate in a group in case one of them gets in trouble, and overall, Romeo's personality seems a bit too caring for a lone wolf. (As the King of Puppets, he was not only determined to save as many humans as possible, but also possessed the unconditional trust and loyalty of the other puppets. To me, this means he most likely cared about them, and they cared about him in return - if it was just programming, the puppets probably wouldn't be lamenting his loss after he dies. Compare this to Geppetto, who has to use force and coercion for others to obey him.)

Also, since the notes in the Trinity Sanctums always seem to have a connection to the place where they're located (factory worker -> factory; cleric -> cathedral; "greatest singer"/Adelina -> opera house), that would mean the train station was most likely Romeo's base of operations.* (Train stations tend to be very popular among thieves, since it's easier to pick pockets in the confusion of people boarding or getting off trains.) This would imply that Romeo didn't grow up in Monad Charity House since he was an infant, but arrived there at a later point during his childhood.

*EDIT: I just had a thought that the note in the Trinity Sanctum could also mean the train station is the place where Romeo died. (All the other notes are connected to murder or some other violent action, and since we can assume they were written by Arlecchino, he was probably more interested in that.) Since Geppetto has his secret workshop wagon in Krat Central Station, maybe the place where he built P is the same where he built Romeo.

Since there were so many orphaned children, the few orphanages that existed couldn't receive all of them. Instead, workhouses were established as institutions for all kinds of destitute people - including orphans - who were unable to support themselves and were given lodging and food in exchange for labor. However, many children actually preferred living on the streets, rather turning to crime than going to the workhouse. At a first glance, this may seem a bit unreasonable - surely, not having to run around in worn-down rags and steal your food just to survive would at least be an improvement?

Well... Turns out, not really. The conditions in Victorian workhouses were notoriously awful - they were overcrowded, unsanitary, and cruel places to live. Daily routine was strictly regimented, consisting of 9–10 hours of repetitive and physically demanding labor and very little free time. What little food there was was of poor quality, privacy was basically nonexistent, and the dozens of inmates sleeping together in dormitories often had to share their beds - children usually had to sleep up to four in a bed. The consequences for refusal of work or any kind of rule violation were beatings, deprivation of food, being locked up in solitary confinement in a dark cell, and other draconian punishments.

If this doesn't sound like a very hospitable atmosphere, that's because that was the exact intention behind it. Workhouses weren't meant to support poor people - they were supposed to scare them into finding work and make a living for themselves. Victorians viewed poverty as a self-imposed misery, and if you were a pauper, that was because you were lazy, retarded, or made bad choices in life. That's why beggars, vagrants, orphans, criminals, and mentally ill people were all indiscriminately housed in workhouses, because from the Victorian point of view, they all belonged to the same category of people: A stain that had to be removed from the public eye, either by forcing them to support themselves or by making use of their work force once they had donned the workhouse uniform. They were a nuisance to society, and their treatment in the workhouse was sure to make them feel that.

One of the worst fates for workhouse children, however, was to be hired out as pauper apprentices: Usually from 10-13 years of age, but sometimes as young as eight or seven, workhouses would send pauper children to factories in the countryside for an "apprenticeship". This "apprenticeship" involved factory owners buying children from orphanages and workhouses and making them sign a contract that lasted until they were 21 years of age, dictating that the apprentices had to be provided with food and accommodation, and in exchange, the factory owner was free to make use of their working power.

So in summary, workhouse orphans were essentially sold into slavery. This was all that much easier to do with children who had no parents and no other means to support themselves, and thus were free to be exploited by their employers. Some of the recollections from these former pauper apprentices are just utterly horrific - and in this case, I think it's appropriate to let the victims speak for themselves.

John Birley, who lost his father when he was two, lived in the Bethnal Green Workhouse for a time after his mother died of illness when he was around six. He was sent to Litton Mill as a pauper apprentice, and he had this to say about his experiences in an interview with The Ashton Chronicle in 1849 (source):

The same year my mother died, I being between six and seven years of age, there came a man looking for a number of parish apprentices. We were all ordered to come into the board room, about forty of us. There were, I dare say, about twenty gentlemen seated at a table, with pens and paper before them. Our names were called out one by one. We were all standing before them in a row. My name was called and I stepped out in the middle of the room. They said, "Well John, you are a fine lad, would you like to go into the country?" I said "Yes sir". We had often talked over amongst ourselves how we should like to be taken into the country, Mr. Nicholls the old master, used to tell us what fine sport we should have amongst the hills, what time we should have for play and pleasure. He said we should have plenty of roast beef and get plenty of money, and come back gentlemen to see our friends. The committee picked out about twenty of us, all boys. In a day or two after this, two coaches came up to the workhouse door. We were got ready. They gave us a shilling piece to take our attention, and we set off. I can remember a crowd of women standing by the coaches, at the workhouse door, crying "shame on them, to send poor little children away from home in that fashion." Some of them were weeping. I heard one say, "I would run away if I was them." They drove us to the Paddington Canal, where there was a boat provided to take us. We got to Buxton at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon. A covered cart was waiting for us there. We all got in, and drove off to the apprentice house at Litton Mill, about six miles from Buxton. The cart stopped, and we marched up to the house, where we saw the master, who came to examine us and gave orders where we were put. [...] Our regular time was from five in the morning till nine or ten at night; and on Saturday, till eleven, and often twelve o'clock at night, and then we were sent to clean the machinery on the Sunday. No time was allowed for breakfast and no sitting for dinner and no time for tea. We went to the mill at five o'clock and worked till about eight or nine when they brought us our breakfast, [...] We then worked till nine or ten at night when the water-wheel stopped. We stopped working, and went to the apprentice house, about three hundred yards from the mill. It was a large stone house, surrounded by a wall, two to three yards high, with one door, which was kept locked. It was capable of lodging about one hundred and fifty apprentices. Supper was the same as breakfast - onion porridge and dry oatcake. We all ate in the same room and all went up a common staircase to our bed-chamber; all the boys slept in one chamber, all the girls in another. We slept three in one bed. [...] Mr. Needham, the master, had five sons: Frank, Charles, Samuel, Robert and John. The sons and a man named Swann, the overlooker, used to go up and down the mill with hazzle sticks. Frank once beat me till he frightened himself. He thought he had killed me. He had struck me on the temples and knocked me dateless. He once knocked me down and threatened me with a stick. To save my head I raised my arm, which he then hit with all his might. My elbow was broken. I bear the marks, and suffer pain from it to this day, and always shall as long as I live. I was determined to let the gentleman of the Bethnal Green parish know the treatment we had, and I wrote a letter with John Oats and put it into the Tydeswell Post Office. It was broken open and given to old Needham. He beat us with a knob-stick till we could scarcely crawl. Sometime after this three gentlemen came down from London. But before we were examined we were washed and cleaned up and ordered to tell them we liked working at the mill and were well treated. Needham and his sons were in the room at the time. They asked us questions about our treatment, which we answered as we had been told, not daring to do any other, knowing what would happen if we told them the truth."

In case there were any surviving family members, the children were sometimes deported without their knowledge. In 1849, Sarah Carpenter related the story of her lost brother who was taken away from Bristol Workhouse to The Ashton Chronicle (source):

When I was eight years old my father died and our family had to go to the Bristol Workhouse. My brother was sent from Bristol workhouse in the same way as many other children were - cart-loads at a time. My mother did not know where he was for two years. He was taken off in the dead of night without her knowledge, and the parish officers would never tell her where he was. It was the mother of Joseph Russell who first found out where the children were, and told my mother. We set off together, my mother and I, we walked the whole way from Bristol to Cressbrook Mill in Derbyshire. We were many days on the road. Mrs. Newton fondled over my mother when we arrived. [...] My brother told me that Mrs. Newton's fondling was all a blind; but I was so young and foolish, and so glad to see him again; that I did not heed what he said, and could not be persuaded to leave him. They would not let me stay unless I would take the shilling binding money. I took the shilling and I was very proud of it. They took me into the counting house and showed me a piece of paper with a red sealed horse on which they told me to touch, and then to make a cross, which I did. This meant I had to stay at Cressbrook Mill till I was twenty one.

So, if the situation in the Lies of P universe in any way resembles that during the real-life 19th century, and if these street children are in any way smart, I think it's very understandable they'd want to stay the hell away from the workhouse or any similar institution. Of course, it would be easy to attribute this to laziness, but honestly, I'd say they just wanted to avoid the abuse. (You could pose the question whether there are even any lowly paid jobs for children to do in the LoP universe, since a lot of those were probably taken over by puppets. However, if you ask me, that might only lead to employers trying to underbid the price that puppet laborers would cost, which would lead to serious wage cuts for any human workers - we know there was a violent protest of the factory labor union, which might have happened for a reason like this. Also, I reckon the puppet industry itself would create new branches of "dirty work", like recycling parts from scrapped puppets, disposing of puppet junk, etc.)

In fact, these harrowing stories happen to have quite a few parallels to the original fairy tale of Pinocchio. Did you notice? The children are taken away in coaches and carts, in a way that conceals their presence (e.g. in a covered cart or in the dead of the night), which is very reminiscent of the Coachman picking up boys at night (in the book, the coach is described as having wrapped wheels, so it doesn't make noise and can't be discovered). At first, the children are told they can make a fortune by working in the textile mills and will have plenty of time for leisure - in A memoir of Robert Blincoe from 1828, it's even mentioned they tried to lure children into working in a cotton mill by telling them that "they would be transformed into ladies and gentlemen" when they arrived there, that "they would be fed on roast beef and plum pudding, be allowed to ride their masters' horses, and have silver watches, and plenty of cash in their pockets". This sounds quite similar to the Coachman promising the boys unlimited play time and freedom if they come with him to the Land of Toys. However, as both the pauper apprentice children and the boys from Pinocchio had to realize, all of this was a fraud to exploit them for what is essentially slave labor.

This also suggests that with his depiction of the Land of Toys, Carlo Collodi was doing more than just telling a horror story to scare kids into behaving. He was commenting on a real-life problem - and this, exactly this, is what Collodi wanted to warn his young readers about. In that sense, the boys turning into donkeys might also be a metaphor for what their employers saw them as: livestock, to be used and abused as they pleased.

Because the living conditions of workhouse children were so appalling, there was clamor for change, specifically among the reformist middle class. It was argued that orphans and destitute children should be housed in an institution meant exclusively for them, rather than together with criminals, cripples, and lunatics. The movement really began to pick up speed in mid-19th century, and many orphanages were founded by private benefactors and philanthropists. One of the most influential was Thomas John Barnardo, the founder of the charity Barnardos, who built homes for waifs, strays, and all kinds of children in need to provide them with a place to live, food, and education.

In general, there was an effort to make education accessible to even the lowest classes. Sunday Schools and Ragged Schools were established, which allowed poor children to take classes without having to pay a fee, giving them more opportunities in later life. However, the parents of working-class children were often against them going to school, since it meant that they couldn't work to earn additional income for the family. This is why attending school was made mandatory for all children between 5 and 10 in 1870, with the leaving age being raised to 11 in 1893. (This is also what Carlo Collodi meant by saying "for the love of God, get yourself some education" - because if you didn't, you would be stuck in a circle of bone-breaking labor forever.)

The Monad Charity House fits quite well into this historical frame: We do know that the Rose Estate was originally a charity organization for poor children, but was turned into a boarding school after Lady Isabelle and the Monad family started sponsoring money. Since charities for poor children are a phenomenon of the mid- to late-19th century, it's possible the situation was a lot worse before in the Lies of P universe as well. Romeo might not have gone there willingly (perhaps he was caught during one of his thefts), and truth be told, Victorian schools weren't the most rosy of affairs (if you'd like to know the details, feel free to check out this page). However, given what could've been his fate, Romeo probably considered himself lucky to be alive and not exploited by someone else for donkey work. (Still, one thing that should be kept in mind is that the Alchemists' patronage of the Rose Estate probably isn't based on purely altruistic motives: Since all of the children are trained as Stalkers, Alchemists, or Workshop Technicians, all of them ultimately become part of Krat's economic apparatus.)

It seems almost miraculous that two boys coming from such different worlds would develop such a strong bond. However, despite this, they had one experience in common: pain. Although the way in which they suffered might have differed, they both knew what it's like to be abandoned. Romeo had to grow up in a society that didn't care whether he lived or died, and since all Carlo ever received from his father was scrutiny or cold ignorance, he probably felt the same about him. Living in a cruel world where the odds were stacked against them, it's easy to see why these kindred souls sought comfort in each other.

In any case, if the untold backstory of these characters was crafted with this in mind, my sincerest compliments go to the people of Neowiz for not only taking such a nuanced approach to child education in a historical context, but also for doing so with respect to the original story by Carlo Collodi. It may be really subtle at times, but you can't deny how much effort the devs put into the themes - themes that are so universal to human psychology that they continue to be relevant today, and undoubtedly made the story resonate with a lot of people.

#lies of p #lies of p carlo #lies of p romeo #lies of p geppetto #analysis #lore theories #the adventures of pinocchio #carlo collodi #I've never used so many content warnings in a post before xD #Carlo seriously has one of the most messed up family situations I've ever seen #like I knew it was bad; but I had no idea it was THAT BAD #also I was floored when I found out that the Coachman essentially had a real-life inspiration #anyway here I am back to trying to deduce story contents based on historical comparisons xD

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railingsofsorrow · 6 days

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Epilogue

[peter parker x reader]

summary: harry finds your behaviour slightly suspicious & there's an evening spent between friends.

pairing: p.parker x f!reader; slightly harry osborn x f!reader; mj x felicia hardy.

w.c: 3.3K

warnings/content: jealousy; injuries (mentioned); protective harry osborn; language; migraines (mentioned); clumsy but committed peter parker (yes, he learnt from his mistakes. finally); discussion about the multiverse theory; angst but there's more fluff this time sadly; minor character's death (mentioned).

A/N: this fic has come to an end :( it was fun writing this. my first experience in writing a short spiderman fic, it was so hard to come up with a good ending and it probably still not perfect but I feel like it's a good enough one. I hope you like it too and that you'll come back to read more of my spiderman stuff, cause there will definitely be more! good reading, people <3

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“So they're just gone?”

You turn your neck to glare at your friend. Ever since you mentioned your migraines to him one day and he saw one of your episodes once or twice — a little bit more than that — he hasn't stopped bugging you about it. He wanted you to go to the doctors to get checked out. Until, well. Until the migraines miraculously vanished. Your head never bothered you anymore and you're even sleeping better, given the lack of dark circles around your eyes.

Harry wasn’t having it.

First and foremost, he did not believe continuous migraines were cured just like that. Overnight. Because how come he saw you incapable of watching a lecture one day and you're perfectly fine on the other?

Either you are popping some pills or someone magically healed you.

He didn't like any of the options.

He was still worried, okay? Harry cares. He may not be loud with it, but it's you, so he cares. And he cares a lot. You should know better than to just outright lie to him.

“Yes. Why does it matter? I'm fine, shouldn't you be happy I'm no longer whining on your shoulder?”

“You're not taking drugs, are you?”

A surprised laugh echoed around the room and he almost felt his body melt at the sight of your curled up frame from how much you were laughing.

“It amazes me,” you said between chuckles. “that you'd think I'd pull that off.” Not without him knowing, at least. You and Harry are side by side for almost the entire day.

“I don't doubt you.”

“You're losing faith in me.”

“I never had it.” He huffs out a laugh when you throw a pillow at his face, hitting him right on his nose. He fell on his bed with a groan, you moved his homework out of the way before he could mess it up by laying on top of it.

“Just... tell me if it gets to that point again, okay?

You look at him, contemplating something that he can't figure out. With the way you avoid his eyes as you answer, he knows you decided to say something else instead of that first thought. “I will. But it won't.” He found the conviction in your voice strange. You can't know if it will ever get that bad again. Just as the migraines miraculously left, they might come back.

He didn’t question it further.

You went back to your homework, sharing some insights on his as he does with yours. It didn’t last long until your phone started blaring beneath the pillow you're perched on, the sound being slightly muffled by the fabric.

You feel Harry's teasing before he can sputter out a sentence.

“Shut up.” You hissed, picking up the call without looking at the caller ID.

“One Direction. Really?”

“Hello.” You pointedly turn away from his smirky face. You have to take the phone away from your ear due to some loud police sirens that come from the line.

“Hi, hello!” The distinctive voice of Peter Parker replies. Yelling. That was the only way you would be able to hear him anyway. “There's been a thing and I— Shit!”

You concluded the phone is thrown away because his voice suddenly sounds very far.

You offered Harry a lousy excuse to step out into the hallway, frowning at the other voices and the police sirens you could hear.

“Peter, you—”

“I'm back!” Again, you take the phone away from your ear with a sigh. “Sorry, I was— I was busy.” You gathered that fact by the way he sounded breathless.

“Are you running?”

“No!” The noise proceeded to quieten down and you raise an eyebrow at his blatant lie. “Sorry, was I loud? Feels like I was being loud. Sorry.” A door is closing and he's groaning at the end of the line. Instead of finding it funny, you start to get worried, picturing a dislocated shoulder or maybe a deep gash on his arm like last time.

You and Peter made an agreement. When you agreed to be friends again — part of that starting over bullshit that was your idea — you and him worked on filling each other out on both of your lives. Just catching up as good friends do. Less than a month later you were patching up his wounds as if you never had stopped doing that in the first place. Sometimes, you'd even think you were back where you started as if it was all back to the start of your story in Queens. Midtown. Making plans with Ned and Peter for the weekends. Sitting with MJ at lunch as much as she claimed she hated company. . .

There was a pull at your chest every time you remembered it wasn't like this. You weren't back at that time. You couldn't go back. You only had the now and it had to be enough. It was enough.

“Peter, are you hurt?” But you still felt the same agony whenever the idea of Peter being hurt came across your mind. An unsettling fear settling up in your core.

“No.” he shuffled around, clearing his throat. His voice was back for you to hear it clearly. “I'm fine. Just a bank robbery downtown and I—” he paused to let out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry I'm late, I'll be there in a second, okay?”

You blink, confused. “What? Late for what, Peter?”

“Hanging out?” He said followed by a tinge of uncertainty. “Uh, you said that after class—”

Your brows shot up in recognition. “Oh! Yeah, that's—” Then you checked the time on your phone. You were supposed to meet after class to hang out around 5 p.m. It was still 3 in the afternoon. “Peter,” you held in a chuckle. “That's like, two hours away. You're not late.”

There's silence on his end and you start laughing.

“Oh,” he mumbled, letting out a breath of relief. “That's— That's good. I was thinking that I was like really really late and—”

“You're good, webs.” You softly reassured him. Peter has been working really hard to make sure he doesn't mess up with you again. That included arriving early at places. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I just got here.”

“Mhm. And you're not hurt at all?”

“Just a few scratches,” Peter answered with hesitancy. You smiled triumphantly. Not because you're happy he's hurt but because you knew you were right. “I'm fine, alright? You don't have to come.”

“Okay.” You said, stepping back into your dorm room, catching Harry eying your frame from your bed curiously. “No broken limbs though, right?”

Peter's scoff put a smile on your lips. “Have some faith in me. I can handle a robbery.”

The joke Spiderman can handle a robbery but Peter Parker is still clumsy almost slips out but, thankfully, you remember you're not alone.

“Sure. I'll see you later.”

“Hey,” he called your name before you could hang up so you waited for him to speak. “Do you— are you going— how are you— I mean...”

“Peter, breathe.”

You didn’t notice Harry's eye-roll, too busy cracking up at Peter's stuttering mess.

“Okay. Alright. Are you going by yourself? Cause I can pick you up and we can go, you know, so you don't have to go alone?” He clarified, a strain in his voice as if he's been choking up to say that.

“Oh. Harry and I are going to head out together, actually. He's here.”

You patiently waited for his response. “Of course. Yeah. Okay. I'll see you later then. You and— and Harry. And everyone else.”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the bed, biting the inside of your cheek. A weird feeling of guilt in in your chest. “See you later, then. Bye.”

You don't know why you feel guilty about turning him down. All of you would meet in the same place anyway so it's not like you weren't gonna see him, right? It's just a matter of logistics.

“Was that your boyfriend?”

You gave Harry a blank stare as you threw your phone to the side to go back to your assignment. One of his eyebrows arched up in defiance, he played your game of not looking away for a few minutes before you got sick of it.

“I wonder if the reason you're bothered by Peter is because you secretly have a crush on him.”

He looks away first and your lips spread into a satisfied smirk.

“Parker's not my type.” Harry uttered, leaning over your lap to mark a question that you had gotten wrong. His curls tickling your chin. “And this is wrong. It's not fifteen, it's fifty.” He decided to add for good measure, stepping out of your personal space. “I'm not bothered by him.”

You hummed quietly, erasing the previous calculation to redo the math.

“Who is your type anyway?” You asked, trying to cut through the tension. Every time you mention Peter, Harry's mood shifted. He got too quiet. He just didn’t like him for some reason you couldn't yet figure out. Peter and he haven't met before, that much you know. You claim you'll be out of this, because it's none of your business, some people just don't like each other, it happens. But you're curious and if the opportunity to find out the X of the equation comes, you won't run from it.

“You'll never know.” His mumble is so low that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't sitting so close to each other. He steals the pen you were using, earning a frown from you. “I like this one better.”

“Buy one for you then,” you complained, not moving to get the pen back from him. You take the one he was using instead, eager to finish the assignment so you can have the rest of the afternoon free with your friends.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Pete]: (Picture attached)

[Pete]: Do you want this back?

When you opened the text message, your breath hitched. The image Peter had sent you showed the red scarf, the one you never let go of. You hadn't seen it in a while, ever since... Ever since you paid him a visit that night. The night you were set on burning the scarf along with that collection of pictures you found in your room.

You've been to Peter's place countless times after that, though. You wondered why he never mentioned anything.

[You]: Keep it.

You sighed, conflicted with that short answer. You weren't being rude, you didn't meant to be. But you didn't need the scarf anymore. Not when you have him back in your life. You realized the scarf represented everything the two of you lived and everything you didn't.

You didn't want it back. You weren't ready.

Not now, at least. You hoped he wouldn't be hurt by it.

[You]: Maybe one day you can give it back to me.

Satisfied with your reply, you slipped your phone into your pocket, standing up to help Harry carry five smoothies toward your table. Ned and MJ were on their way, as for Peter, you figured it was the same. His apartment wasn't that far from where you were.

“I know a loser when I see one.”

“Hello, MJ.” You greeted after taking the first sip of your smoothie. You offer her hers and she bumps your hip, sitting beside you in the booth as a greeting. “Where's Ned?” You asked, frowning now that you didn't see the boy arriving along with her. They were always together.

She shrugged, leaning back. “He said he would be ten minutes late. He was gonna get Peter so they could go to this store nearby his place before coming here.”

You didn't take long to acknowledge which store she was talking about. An eye roll later, you crack out a smile in amusement.

“The Star Wars one?”

She nodded and the three of you quickly entered a conversation about a movie that was airing on the local theatre. Ned and Peter arrived in the middle of your discussion, a few bags in their hands that earned your curiosity.

“Did you buy the whole store?” You joked, the edge of your lips curling up as Peter sat down in front of you, placing two little bags on the corner of his seat.

Peter raised an eyebrow at you, amusement all over his features. “Did I?”

“Looks like it.”

“Oh, this is—!” Ned exclaimed, taking a sip of his smoothie. Harry held back a laugh at the boy's blissed-out state. “You got it right.” He then pointed at Harry accusingly. “I love you.”

Harry shrugged, “I know.”

“The one time I got your order wrong—” MJ begins.

“You never get the right one.” Ned deadpanned, interrupting MJ's speech. The girl kicked his chin under the table and Ned proceeded to kick hers back. Just before the childish fight could escalate, you pull both of their ears and hear whining asking you to stop.

Peter and Harry were chucking and you have to backtrack because Harry wasn't glaring at Peter for the first time. Is this progress?

After a mindless walk to the nearest park, all of you silently decided to stick around for a while longer, basking in what was left of the sunset and the hues of orange, pink and blue that mixed together to form the purple sky of the evening.

You teased MJ at her inability to stop texting her girlfriend while in an evening among friends and she flipped you off immediately, blushing. She's been seeing Felicia Hardy for two months and from what you could see, it was becoming rather serious, even though MJ still cannot admit it. You know your best friend and her hidden smiles and secret joy because of a new person she's interested in.

“No, no, no. You don't get it. It's like different universes in one— Actually, no. Multiple universes that are currently happening right now. You could be you, but you're, I don't know, a villain in this other universe, while here, you're just Harry.”

Both of your and Peter's neck snapped as you turned towards the conversation between Harry and Ned.

Harry carried a crease between his brows, confusion twisting the corner of his lips.

“So I'm me... but different?”

Ned nodded vehemently. He'd always get excited whenever the topic of multiverse was brought up.

You, on the other hand, were tense and you did not have to look at Peter to know his reaction as well.

“I'm sure in every reality you're an entitled filthy rich bastard the same way. Don't worry.” MJ’s comment was enough you breathe again. Peter’s awkward laugh at your side.

Harry rolls his eyes, “and I'm sure you're sarcastic and bitchy about anything and anyone, Jones.”

You throw your head back to stare up at the sky.

“Children.” You mocked. Peter attempted to hide his laugh but he was not successful. You found it endearing how his cheeks slowly turned pink. It reminded you of when you were kids, he'd turn into a tomato every time he tried to hold in his laugh. “Behave.”

They initiated a bickering about she started it and he started it and Ned made a comment to side with Harry to add fire to the flames.

Sometimes you thought they could remember and then reality crashed down the moment for what it truly was. It could be good and bad at the same time. Bittersweet might be the right term to name the feeling. Of course you miss everything that was, but what currently is is also good, in a way. You have your people, despite the losses, you have him back and it's all that you could ask for.

“Peter.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, looking down at his shoes as he buried his hand in his jacket.

“Did you like it?”

You close the small box carefully. “How could I not? It's beautiful. I loved it.” You said, then punched his shoulder playfully. He pretends it hurts, but you know it doesn't. “Don't spend that much money on me, Parker.”

Peter shrugged, playing the nonchalant part. “I'll do what I want, actually.”

“You're such an annoying little shit, aren't you?”

He shrugged again, this time he's got a cocky grin and a little smug attitude you recognized from when he got an answer right and you got one wrong in an assignment. It's a glimpse of the carefree nature of Peter Parker. He's a little bit proud at times, but still clumsy around people, shy between strangers, and wears his heart on his sleeve for the people he truly cares about.

“You love it.”

“Help me,” you asked him when everyone stopped by the fountain on your way back to university. You had your back to him and he finally understood what he was supposed to do when he saw your fingers holding the two parts of the necklace behind your neck. He stepped forward, taking both parts from your hands and freezing once your fingers met. Your skin was cold. You shivered as he clasped the necklace, adjusting with a shaky sigh. His throat moved under his hard gulp. “Thank you.” You turned around with the little rose gold maple leaf pendant around your neck.

Peter blinked at you in a daze. The streetlight illuminated your figure as you moved your hair away from your shoulders so it wasn't curling around the necklace anymore.

You're beautiful. So beautiful.

As soon as he saw the maple leaf pendant, you came into his mind. It reminded him of the Fall, your favorite season, which, of course, led him to you. Funny that everything, somehow, lead him to you. He doesn't know what his life would be if it didn't. Nothing would make much sense, honestly. Peter didn't know how the other Peter Parkers handled losing you in their universe. It was such a difficult thought for him to even consider. His initial goal was to protect you and if that meant he had to let you go, then so be it. He would do it. Because you deserved a life without the mess that was his life. You deserved peace and happiness. But that plan backfired when he saw you crossing the street to reach a coffee shop. It was 8pm in the evening and he was on patrol. He had stopped two robberies an hour before so he was getting ready to go home and throw himself into bed, give a rest to his alter ego for the night. Until you showed up, crossing the street so distracted that a car almost hit you. Peter pulled you back in time, a hand on your shoulder to steady you from the scare of the car horn. You had been crying and at the moment Peter's only thought was to comfort you and figure out who had made you feel that way.

“Myself.” You laughed, tearfully. “Sorry. I wasn't paying attention.”

He convinced himself that from that point on he had to watch over you, to simply make sure you wouldn't cross the street without looking both ways again, or trip mad and get a severe head injury. He'd watch you from afar, it couldn't do any harm.

In reality, that was Peter's way of not letting you go and it had not been fair to either one of you. Especially you, who earned headaches and migraines and insomnia because of memories begging to come back, memories that shouldn't have been removed at all.

Peter disappointed you. He disappointed himself too — and probably Aunt May, who must be shaking her head in disapproval wherever she was watching over him from. He's slowly making peace with himself after everything. He's finally seen that having you close by was better than the heartache of letting you go and trying foolishly to move on. He didn't want to move on from you and if that was selfish. . . that was fine. Peter was never anything besides selfless his entire life. And if you wanted to be in his life, why couldn't he want to be in yours?

He would acknowledge the past and make the best out of the present. As for the future, well, he wasn't concerned, it would probably lead him to you. As always.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #reader insert

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hellhound5925 · 7 months

Text

One shot - Sargent Hunter

“It’s better this way” Part Two

Link to Part one here.

So we can argue that 'The Love You Want' and 'Blood Sport' by Sleep Token inspired this. If you haven't, give them a listen and think about it from Hunter's POV. Also I'm going to throw a name in but feel free to read it as whoever you want. This will be a few parts and end happy I promise! Probably going to be some cute romantic smut so please stick around!

Warnings:

18+, heartbreak, eventual smut, (I'm bad at warnings let me know if I missed anything) mentions of unintentional self harm? Female character/reader.

Summary:

(Part One) Relationships during wartime are tough...you'd know that better than anyone. Being a Mandalorian, you has been asked to train clones on Kamino. It just felt like the right thing to do, and what confirmed that for you was the moment the handsome Sargent had his eyes on you. Eventually letting him get to know you, you felt deep and hard for the man, but the reality of the war was forever in the back of your mind....

(Part Two) Tech gives you a small piece of his mind. And running into Crosshair turns into a shocking slap in the face for our Mandalorian. Will she be smart enough to take their advice and apologize to the man of her dreams?

The rest of the day goes off without a hitch and with my last class finished, I can finally make my way to my room. As the door slides open, solitude welcomes me with it's cold embrace. Muscle memory takes over and I strip off my clothes, getting into something more comfortable before crawling into bed. The bed that was shared so many times by the warmth of a softly snoring Sargent, now cold and silent. For a moment, I regret my decision and the temptation of racing down the hall to where I know he's likely laying wide awake due to Wrecker's obnoxious snoring - no I chose this, and it was the right thing to do...no distractions for him and no fear of losing him for me.

Unfortunately sleep never comes, I lay awake staring at the ceiling feeling absolutely numb all while justifying my actions to myself. Glancing over at my clock, it's time to get around for the day. After completing my morning routine, I decide to make a quick stop at the med bay like Tech requested.

Before heading inside, I take a deep breath and choose to act as if nothing is out of the ordinary - it's time to move on. I step through the door and see Tech typing away on his datapad. "Hey" I say offering a warm smile, but he doesn't even look up. Which if I was anyone else would make sense, but Tech has always given me his undivided attention. "Kamino to Tech?" He finally moves, setting down his datapad and begins gathering supplies to change my bandage but doesn't say a word.

Choosing not to poke the massiff, I quietly head over to the exam table and sit on it. He offers me his hand which is his way of asking permission to treat my wound. I give him my hand, palm up and watch as he gently undoes the bandage he did yesterday. He gives it a once over and pushes his goggles back up on his nose, "it appears to be healing just fine." The statement comes out cold and emotionless, which sends a shiver down my spine.

As he applies something to my hand and begins to rewrap it, I search for words. "Tech...I—" His sigh tells me everything I need to know. It's not just Hunter I hurt....

"I have had time to think over what you said yesterday and I believe you have made a poor calculation" As he finishes his statement, I get a really good look at him. His face has a hint red - which only happens when he's flustered - and he once again pushes his goggles back up on his nose before finishing his work. A pit forms in my stomach, devouring any hope of pretending like everything is okay.

"Tech" my voice is betrays me causing him to finally look me in the face. The minute our eyes lock, his are cold and unfamiliar - he's more vexed than he's letting on.

"Did you ever stop to consider the fact that you are one of the reasons he fights so hard to make sure we make it home?"

His words swirl around in my head, making me feel dizzy. I genuinely had not thought about it that way, I was too caught up in the fact that he could die out there and I'd be left here to pick up the pieces to consider him. My ancestors would be so ashamed...I'm supposed to be a strong warrior and yet here I am, choosing not to fight. Rolling over and giving up my family just to preserve my sanity? How selfish... silence fills the room, a long pause before Tech's good-hearted words hit me. My pride is so damaged, my mouth drops open as if to speak but no sound comes out.

"I may not be the best person to give this kind of advice however, you have failed to consider all of the facts before making your conclusion." He pauses for a moment a faint twinkle of a smile appears on his face, before he turns back to his datapad.

Swallowing hard, I finally find the ability to speak, "I love him so much it hurts." I stop, hearing myself say that out loud for the first time hits me like a durasteel wall. We've never said those words to one another and thanks to me, probably never will. Tech glances up as me with a blank expression.

"And I don't want to be left behind in a galaxy without him."

He sighs, dropping his hands and datapad into his lap, "You complete Hunter, and I do urge you to rethink on your decision."

I stand there, eyes wandering the room, and brain working over time trying to process everything that has been spoken. Tech lets out a deep sigh once more before turning his full attention to his datapad. Since he’s now fully engrossed in whatever it is he is doing, I decided it’s best to wander and consider his words.

Without a word, I get up and head out the door making my way down the hallway. I can't help but feel like the lights are brighter than normal. It's almost as if they are shining a spotlight on my failure. Tech's words are still swirling around in my head and before I know it I'm so deep in thought I had not been playing attention to where my feet were carrying me. I stop in front of the door I've walked through so many times. A wave of memories hits me and I can almost hear my laugh as Hunter tells me about something Wrecker did during one of their training sessions. We would always walk back to their shared quarters together and he would fill me in, asking for my tactical opinion.

The door sliding open pulls me from my thoughts. Crosshair stands infront of me with an annoyed expression. He sighs, flipping the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

"You're blocking the doorway."

"Oh right, Sorry..." I step out of his way and he exits, the door sliding shut behind him. He walks past me in silence and starts to head down the hall before stopping and turning around.

"Marauder."

My head snaps his direction, "What?"

Another annoyed sigh "Hunter."

"I wasn't—"

He cuts me off with a scoff, "Right."

Crosshair and I have always had an interesting relationship, he treats me more like an annoying little sister. In his defense, I do usually enjoy pushing his buttons like one. Although it kind of seems like he wants to say more, as he’s still standing here starting at me.

“What?” I snap, my tone more annoyed than I intended.

He eyes me up and down in a challenging way - typical Crosshair - “I’m just surprised is all. You gave up on him so easily. And here I thought you were as tough as they say.”

Ouch. His words sting like a hot iron pressed into my skin. We always joked around with one another on a more crude level but I knew he never really meant it, or at least I was pretty sure he didn’t. After the statement he just made though, I know he never meant it. His tone was more harsh, and laced with venom intended to harm.

Without another word he takes the toothpick out of his mouth before sliding his helmet on, heading down the hall to Maker knows where. I stand there and watch as he disappears around the corner. Suddenly, I find myself full of anger. Anger at myself for being so stupid.

Letting out a angry cry, I slam my fist into the wall - not hard enough to do damage but hard enough the sound echos down the hall. A couple of Clone Troopers poke their heads around the corner to see where it came from. I give them a look before spinning on my heel, and heading in the direction of the platform that the Marauder calls home.

Taglist: @cloneloverrrrr @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @idoubleswearimawriter @maybethatfanfictionwriter @savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @techs-goggles9902

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years

Text

You really don't see it do you? (Lewis Hamilton)

Note: english is not my first language, I have never written something that was requested by somebody else so I suddenly feel like I can't write, also first time doing anything remotely angsty (maybe it's not even that and I have executed it poorly) so pls bear with

As always, any specific knowledge here is what I know and have researched a bit, apologies if it is incorrect

Feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: curse words, mentions of allergic reaction and needles

In the Mercedes hospitality, the team and guests were having lunch, trays of food displayed beautifully around a big table as everyone grabbed what they wanted in order to stay fueled for the Qualy afternoon ahead, "Y/N, you have to try these! They're some sort of pastry, you have to try it, they're to die for", Angela said, a tong in hand as you placed your plate forward so she could place the pastry on it. "So Lewis, how are we feeling for today?", you asked, already sat at the table, everyone digging into the food on their plates, "I feel confident we can get in the top 5, the car seemed good yesterday", he said, "that's good, I can't wait to see you! It's been awhile since my last GP", you smiles slightly, things around you turning slightly wobbly, your chest heaving as it got harder and harder to breathe in and out. Lewis noticed it right away, "You okay, Y/N?", earning a shake from your head once you couldn't get your words out, "Angela, grab my bag over there", he said pointing to the back pack on the sofa, "It's okay, I've got your meds here", he said comforting you. As Angela got him his wallet, he pulled out the adrenaline pen you took when this was happening, "There we go, sorry darling", he said, lifting your midi skirt a little bit upwards so he could pin the needle on your skin and inject the liquid in your body. A few minutes passed as you laid against Lewis' chest, eyes closed as you got back to your normal state, breathing back to normal and colour back to your face, "I'm fine, I'm fine, thanks Lew", you said, now appreciating his nagging when he insisted that he was present in the demonstration of how to use your new pen and that he should have one just in case. "Did that have soybeans in it? Because she's allergic to that", Lewis asked, "It's a vegetable pastry, so probably, we'll have to check with the caterer", someone said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know we had people with food allergies today, we're usually careful about it", one of the managers apologised to you. "It's fine, don't worry. I'm good already", you said accepting a glass of a sugary drink as you tried to reassure everyone in the room whose eyes suddenly were on you. After everyone resumed to their meals, you felt okay sitting on your own chair, "You weren't kidding when you said these were to die for", you joked looking at Angela, trying to rid her face of the frown she had, "I'm okay, Angela, there's no way you'd know. Now, please, smile again, will you?", you said holding out your hand so she could grab it, "I'm never recommending food again", she said, letting out a nervous chuckle, "I think Y/N has broken Angela, I've never seen her so quiet", you heard Toto jokingly say. "I'm so sorry Y/N, I really am", she apologised profusely, "I'm fine, honestly! This happens every now and again, it's okay", you said as they resumed their meal. So your best friend carried an epi pen for you, no big deal right? Your heart didn't feel the same, as you felt his worried look on you, checking how you were and making you fall in love with him a little bit more.

"You're sure you're feeling okay? You can go to my room and rest", Lewis said as he fastened his race suit, "I'm fine Lew, I'll sit here if it makes you feel better", you reassured, "yeah, good idea, you sit here", he said as he grabbed a chair for you so you could still watch the screens and have your headphones in. Things were going well for Lewis, qualifying in 4th place and in general feeling hopeful, "Great guys, that was great! I think tomorrow we have a food shot at podium", Lewis heavy breathing was heard through the radio, "thanks guys, thanks team. Also, can anyone tell me how Y/N is?", he asked. One of the engineers flipped you channel in so he could hear you, "I'm fine, already feeling better. I just ate some biscuits too", you told him as everyone smiled at his concern for you, knowing fully well where it all came from.

You were sitting in Lewis' living room, a healthy roast split between the two plates on the coffee table, Roscoe snoozing by your feet and a documentary playing on TV. This was your usual Thursday plan when you both could make it, being a tradition that started at least 4 years ago. "Did I tell you we're doing this showcase for Mercedes on the weekend? It's going to be absolutely insane, they have all these cars to show and interviews too!", Lewis said excitedly, sitting next to you on the sofa and grabbing his plate. "Does it take up the whole weekend?", you asked, wondering wether he had forgotten your new office's launch. You had recently taken a huge step career wise, managing to become and independent worker and essentially your own boss, and the new place you were opening on Friday was having a little celebration with a few friends, family and clients as well as some local press. "I think so, I fly early Friday morning and get back on Sunday night, since we have no race it's easier", Lewis answered.

"So you're not coming to the office launch?", you asked, disappointment clear in your voice as you looked at the TV. You had planned it accordingly to his schedule too so he could attend as well, wanting to have someone you felt so dearly for in this important milestone.

"Ah, shoot. I forgot about it", he said, "I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I promise", and you don't know wether it was the insane amount of pressure you were in to succeed on your own or the whole planning, but you burst "do you know how much that meant to me? That you said you were able to come and support me? And you're not gonna be there? I know things get crazy, but you could have told me...". You and Lewis had always been honest with eachother, never letting anything brood over too much and tackling any issues together, talking about them as they came up, and not only did it hurt you because he didn't tell you, but also because he was not going to be there... "Y/N, I'm sorry, I really am. Things at Mercedes are going well now, we can't disappoint sponsors and besides I can pop back in on Monday, I'm sure you'll have a full house on Friday anyway!", he reasoned despite your side, "I go to every race I can, even the ones on the other part of the world and you can't make this arrangement? Don't even bother coming then". And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted every single one of them, you were being unfair to him, and mostly, mean without any reason other than wanting him with you. He had his things to do, job demands that couldn't wait and you had always respected them, "Is that how you feel? I have been here day in day out since you started this, every study session, every work proposal, during the signings and this is it? Just because I'm missing one thing? It's not like it's that important", Lewis said, touching a particular subject you both knew too well not to touch. And he knew he had messed up too, knowing how much it meant to you and how other people had failed to support you the way you deserved. "I think this is going too far so I'm going to head home, thanks for dinner", you said getting up and petting Roscoe, heading for the door, a pang on your chest from not hearing a certain voice call your name.

6 am. Lewis and Angela were up and running already, trying to sweat his frustration off, "What's going on wirh you today? Even this is early for us", Angela said trying to catch her breath as the stopped by a park bench, "something you want to share?". Lewis sighed, taking his earbud out, "yesterday I was with Y/N, and I told her about the weekend and she reminded me of her opening and, I don't even know how, but I was so angry with myself when she said that she wanted me there that I just burst out and said awful awful things to her", he said. Angela's jaw could have dropped, she had always known Lewis to be calm and collected, especially when it came to you, "when are you going to tell her? How you truly feel? Have you wondered that maybe you reacted like that because of your feelings for her?", she reasoned. It was no secret to Angela that he had profound feelings for you, and until now he seemed to keep them at bay, "I think it's time you talk to her about it, and apologise to her. She's such a sweet woman and you and I both know she doesn't deserve that", prompting Lewis to think long and hard about how he would take things from then on.

Even though you told Lewis to not bother coming to your opening, you were missing him. Your nerves were needing a pep talk from Lewis saying everything was going to go alright, that there was probably food to feed a whole army and that it all looked lovely, but he wasn't here, making you confirm the idea that your reaction had been a little bit too much. He had never failed you, standing in the crowd when you got your qualifications, holding you when you got negative answers job applications and cheering you on no matter what you did. As you let out a long sigh, you heard your name being called, "Y/N, they're ready for you, it's go time!", your secretary called. Putting on your best face, you remembered your efforts and a rush of pride flooded in, you really had done this, had finally reached where you envisioned yourself all those years ago and you'd be damned if you didn't make 17 year old Y/N proud and enjoy this moment. As you spoke, you ran your eyes through the room, noticing some familiar faces of friends and family, until it landed on a special one. Lewis was here. He came all the way to support you. Smiling as he looked back at you and flashed you one of his smiles. You looked beautiful, the suit he helped you pick looking amazing on your body, your presence in the room and the way you spoke making people hang on to every word, much like he was right now. "I'm here to support my friend in this amazing achievement of hers so if you have any questions about it I'll happily answer but I'm not answering race or car questions today", Lewis said politely as an interviewer questioned him about the latest advances in his car, excusing himself and making his way to grab a bottle of water and look for you after you had finished talking.

"So, you still came", you started, "I didn't thi- thank you for coming, I appreciate it", hugging him, "I missed you so much, I'm sorry I did what I did, it was uncalled for". When Lewis hugged you back, your muscles relaxed, knowing it was all good, "Don't you worry about it angel, I'm sorry too. We both said things we didn't mean", he reasoned, earning a nod from your head that rested on his chest, "we'll talk later about it okay?", you both agreed on.

Everyone had already left, it was just you and Lewis sat in one of the sofas, "Can we talk about it now? I really did not enjoy going to bed knowing we were not talking", you forwarded, "I'm sorry for going about it the way I did, you really didn't deserve this, but why did you say that? I can't lie, it really hurt me. I accept your apologies, you were stressed but was it all from that?", you said looking up. "You really don't see it, do you?", Lewis started, "How I look at you like you hung the stars and the moon just for me, how I get furious everytime some guy comes to you and looks at you like a piece of meat because you're so much more than what's available to the eye, how I always lend you a jacket when you rub your wrists because that's the first thing you do when you start getting cold, how in every room you are in that is where my attention goes, doesn't matter who else is in there", he finished, making you lift your eyes slightly, hoping he was saying what you have been wanting him to say. "You're so kind, selfless, smart and overall amazing, and so beautiful, so gorgeous I can't believe I get to spend my days next to you, damn woman, it's just so hard not to fall in love with you", Lewis sighed, then lifting his head so he could lock your gaze in his. "You fell in love with me?", you braved once your thoughts connected to your voice, earning a chuckle from the driver, "yeah, a long time ago, an I was so mad at myself that I had failed you like some before me, and how I had failed to support you, goodness, I never want to see that disappointment in your face again, let alone caused by me". And your heart jumped truly, no matter how crazy the day had been, all of those years wanting a little bit more from him, refraining from doing so because you didn't want to ruin your friendship.

"I fell for you too. I think I have loved you since I met you almost", you let out, "and I never believed you would reciprocate my feelings. I have watched your from afar getting everyone's attention, talking about failed romances and knowing that I could give you so much more only if you let me".

Grabbing your face with his hands, he nudged your nose in his before you took the chance to press a kiss to his lips, the feeling so much better than any of the times you imagined kissing him, "how about we save this for one of our places, hm? We can catch up on lost time before I go tomorrow, or maybe you can come with me", Lewis said, "was it not cancelled? I thought it was cancelled since you were here", you looked up at him, "I'm only absolutely needed there tomorrow morning apparently, and I needed to make things right with you... so what do you say to a nice first date on the clouds at 6 am?", he cringed slightly. Pressing a final kiss to your lips as the both of you looked at eacother, content with how everything turned out in the end you answered him, "I'll go anywhere at anytime as long as I'm with you".

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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beanibon · 11 months

Note

Hi I hope this isn't uncomfortable but could you write headcanons for Vash dating and supporting a reader who had a bad childhood and struggles with touch and being honest about their needs (because they think they'll be a burden and they dont deserve it)? You can delete this if you want have a nice day.

Of course! I'm 100% okay with writing this for you, I'd be happy to do this. I'll try my best anyways 💜

TW: reader grew up in bad home, mentions of depression and anxiety, bottled emotions, touch shy. (Let me know if I've missed any)

This is also set before you meet up with Meryl and Roberto.

Vash is very supportive of you, patient and does his best to make sure you're comfortable wherever you two are, especially when sharing a room.

You felt bad each time he spread his sleeping bag on the floor, knowing he'd be stiff and sore in the morning. But he reassured you it was fine, he didn't mind it at all. You still felt guilty, giving him the pillows as to make sure he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you two had first met, it was by chance really. Poor Vash had accidentally collided with you running from a shower of bullets, both of you falling to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

He apologised profusely, scrambling to his feet and dragging you along with him, worried you'd get caught in the crossfire. But that was the first time he touched you, and your reaction made his heart throb with sadness, finding a quiet alley to let you go.

Your whole body was shaking uncontrollably, tears running down your cheeks. Each time Vash reached out a hand you flinched away, asking him to not touch you.

Vash respected your wishes, sitting besides you to make sure you'd be okay. The poor guy even gave up his last donut in hopes you'd calm down faster (it may have worked).

Since then Vash has shown patience with your fear of touch, asking for consent first before doing anything in regards to you. And you had gotten better yourself, comfortable enough with Vash to allow him small touches here and there.

He'd always tell you how proud he was that you're getting more comfortable with him, healing even if it was a little.

Another thing Vash found out about you was your lack of expressing how you truly felt, and it was something he was still trying to work on with you.

Most of the time he can tell you don't mean what you say, often resorting to mumbles or quiet whispers, that's how he knows you aren't being honest with how you feel.

Tries to encourage you to express whatever you're feeling openly in his presence, you find this hard but you try for his sake. In public you still shy away from tellng him what you think, worried he'd get annoyed that you didn't want to go down a particular busy street, or store.

Again, he's very patient so he'll never get agitated with you for how long your healing process will take, just know he's there for you.

A/N: hope you enjoyed Anon, sorry it was a little short. Hope you have a wonderful day/night 💜

#trigun stampede #trigun #vash #vash the stampede #vash x you #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun x reader

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enigmawriteswhump · 2 months

Text

The Last Librarian

Part 2

💠 Previous

______________

Rubbing the line out, I sigh. Pushing my chair back, the pencil clatters against the desk. This face was never coming into fruition, no matter how many lines I drew over.

I could never see his face clearly. I've always felt alienated when drawing faces. There are just some faces I found hard to see. A nose that never could be quite seen from any angle, ears that merged with hair, eyes which blurred colours between brown and black. A smile that disappeared at the edges.

I've tried to explain it to doctors, to opticians, and been prescribed a few dozen different supplements to combat my literal face blindness.

I'm not even shortsighted. I'm longsighted, if anything.

I'm used to it now, though. I don't think mum ever truly believed me. She called me her little pansy, and sometimes I wondered if I was half plant with the way I saw the world. Trying so hard to make roots. Focused on looking upwards. Finding light was warming, that made me want to absorb it as if was the only sustenance I needed.

But I supposed a child would lean on something comforting as imagination. I've always known really, it a childhood fantasy, and the world was so much blurrier as a child. Memories always are. The logic pointed towards the fact my short-sightedness had gotten better as I got older. But sometimes, sometimes it had days where it flared up.

I once even thought it was a brain tumour, but because I didn't have floaters or specks, it was swatted down as easily as a fly.

"Tiredness." They said.

Of course, why didn't I think of that?

But sometimes, it was just nice to believe in a little fantasy. Maybe it was why I drew to the holistic hands of Clara and her spirits, her world where rituals and tarots were true. Kinship between two souls sharing a belief. A faithful link to the world.

Lucas and his love of books, Clara and her spirits... And Theo, the subject of my drawing.

You would think that if I could not see someone clearly, that drawing it would be illogical. But, ever since I grew old enough to realise that this curse of uniquely poor sight that was mine alone, my sketchbooks were my proof. Of sanity, of having a repeat experience - like dejavu. You'd write it down in your journal, right, if you experienced that too?

I take myself to bed, pushing aside my drawing for now. Both frustration and indignation swirling in my chest, swearing that tomorrow, when I saw Theo, I was going to focus.

I've known him nearly a year... And I still can't draw his face. Not quite the illustrator I always wanted to be.

Surely the cramp in my hand would be worth it.

______________

"You're still here." a silky baritone slid against me, a warm pulse of my heart at the slight tilt of his head. Inwardly, I berate myself for wanting to ask him out. Take him for a good meal, with a nice sophisticated wine I could imagine him drinking. Having deep, fuzzy conversations over scallops and patte and whatever else those fancy restaurants served.

He's married, for God's sake.

Still, I'm blaming my hormones and lack of nice, gentile males available. Maybe, maybe seeing someone warm, sophisticated eased something in me. That feeling I had when I leant over the table to stare at my English lecturer in college, entranced with the way she spoke. Her articulation and ringing nuance of her voice lifting. Orating to hundreds, but speaking to one. That feeling when you've breathed too deeply and you're searching for more air around them. Someone who spoke to me.

"Of course. Sarah asked if I could upload these textbooks to the system." I shrug, half-smiling as Theo browsed the shelf in front. Daring to strike my gaze across his face, I hoped I would finally see the edges of his smile.

Then he's turning and I curse. I curse because he's never mentioned his wife (or husband!), and I see those fine, neat fingers clasped around a new hardback. One I'd put there, giddily, the day before.

There's a hole where my breath should be, the slight effeminate touch of his eyebrows. That balanced jawline that throws his face in dichotomy with that sharp, feral smile. At least, the blur around the edges feel rough, unpracticed. Unnatural.

"You're reading a Si-fi fantasy? I thought you stuck to the classics?" my lips puckered in false mockery.

There was laughter that seemed to glint, as his huff of air brought me back to the book placed in front of me. His curved, arched fingers of a pianist now retreating.

"I do not indulge usually, however today I felt this book may challenge my preconceptions."

I raise a sardonic eyebrow and pass the scanner over the barcode, the beep the only sound between us.

"Oh, and what preconceptions do you have?" I raise the book back to him, it half hanging into the air until his fingers webbed out and caught it.

"Many." his dark hair swooped across his neck as he leant forward, "And what about you, little bird? Do you enjoy your perceptions challenged?"

"Bird is a funny nickname for me, a flightless animal."

His grin widened a touch further, the blurriness spreading. His meticulous smile bordering on animalistic, if I was indulging in the fantasical.

"Bird or not, one invented flight and one discovered it. Which came first?"

I grin, this a riddle of his I could answer, "Well birds were around in the time of dinosaurs. So birds were first in discovering it."

Theo leant back, a conceding head nod, "Perhaps. I think it truly depends on the semantics of those words, even if you were not inherently wrong."

I roll my eyes. Presumptious know-it-all. And yet, I loved being right, of outsmarting someone who'd been so obviously ensconced in riches and education. Of besting someone who seemed to carry such wisdom.

"Are you planning on a trip soon, since it's nearly been a year?" a small knot grew in my stomach. I reached out to fiddle with my spare key chain.

"I was thinking so..." his eyes grew distant, and he looked out of the windows facing the street, "But I feel unsure of my destination. I've spent so long wondering, I don't know if I have a calling now as much as I used to..." his sigh brought me to a strange longing in his eyes. I almost felt sorry for the guy, until I saw his armani watch and suddenly discounted it. It wasn't like he had financial problems that he'd have to cover before he got out of here. He could escape. Forever.

"I've always wondered why you came here. It's not that pretty, it doesn't have a lot of facilities cities offer, and we have one decent forest." I smile sardonically, "Those who stay here are those who have family nearby, or who want a quiet, normal life."

"Unlike you." it was not a question.

I shrug, peeling away a stray strand from my small guinea-pig keyring.

"I'll go and change my life at some point. I'm just... Working up to it."

He raised an eyebrow, showing his welcome for more.

He always was. Always so giving.

But I grimace, seeing this small fantasy of us walking into our local restaurant, dressed in those fine clothes... It all disappearing if I told him the truth. His long, powerful thighs wrapped in dark jeans, glinting with the small chain that hung from his pocket. The chain for his vintage pocket watch I've wanted to wrap my fingers around for months. A striking figure in that silky black button-up, with his hair down swaying gently as he greeted me. or That smile I wanted to earn. His hand waiting for me. Him insisting on paying, but I fight for my own right to do so with our shared laughter. He makes me swear that he'd pay next time.

Not the lowly library assistant too piss-poor to figure out if I could work the gym into my schedule. But knowing that if I quit the library I'd loose Lucas. That spark of joy I've missed I just couldn't let go of.

That this guy was married, and if I stepped out of my small world... I might create ripples I couldn't take back. But I'll live in this world. It's safer that way. It won't hurt so much when it breaks apart.

"Are you wanting to order another book in?" I tap against the desk as the hollow, plastic top rattled.

Theo shook his head. His eyes dropped in a way that would have made me feel guilty, if he didn't have someone to go home too.

He doesn't look like a Theo, not really. Looks more like a Byron, like the poet. Or a Sir of Lancaster. Something kingly. He has the face for it, at least with what I could see.

I feel him drift back to the shelves, as if waiting for a moment to speak. As if buying time in the ten minutes before I close up. The textbooks could always be done tomorrow.

There's a gust of wind that flurries by the windows, sending a whistle of air through the cracks.

"That child who comes here on a Wednesday... Who is he?" his question came unexpectedly, and I almost jump. It's nearing the most personal question he's outrightly asked.

Theo always came later than Lucas. Perhaps Theo saw Lucas on his way in today.

I turn away, a frown twisting pensively on my lips.

"Just a child I help look after. He's a good kid. Has a dad in the army too, and the mum's run off her feet." I trail my finger down the desk, "He reminds me of someone I used to know. Lucas just needs some attention, especially since he has an older brother who's not the best influence."

"So you are trying to keep him on the straight and narrow, even while you're not related?"

I glance up, mildly perturbed at how close Theo's assumption hit so close to home, "No... I just want to guide him. Be a friend, for when he needs one. I'm hoping I'll be able to be there for him for when I persuade his mum to get him an ADHD diagnosis."

I think of my attempts of conversation with her so far, my subtle hints, my tips for his attention span. The answer to why he couldn't sit on his chair without wiggling incessantly. All flagged down with that offended look in her eyes.

"How do you know?" he asked quietly.

I give Theo my best half-smile and gesture to myself, "Four words. Like calls to like."

Theo's brows raise ever so slightly, "You have decided to trust me with that information."

I chuckle, "It's not like handing out that information could get me killed."

Theo shrugs and I laugh - I laugh before I could help it. And it's loud, boisterous and I would hate it if it hadn't brought that same smile to his face. The smile I wanted to recreate.

He bows, slightly, nothing more than a slight dip of his body, before he retreats.

"The night calls, and I find myself parched... So good evening, my lady." he murmurs, and I feel wistful as he exits. He has this way of speaking that was so archaic sometimes I almost think he's pulling my leg with it.

I hope one day soon, I'll slip in a note that had my number on there. Brave the future with hope in my heart. To ask him if he wore that ring for show or whether there was a place for me too.

______________

Okay, so the real story starts soon *rubs hands* 😏

Thank you for reading! Once again, this is an ongoing AU inspired by @oliversrarebooks, so please check their work out if you hadn't already!

Let me know if you want to be on a taglist for this! 😊

#The Last Librarian #Enigma Writes whump #Fantasy whump #Urban fantasy whump #Whumpee #Whumper #enigma writes

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ellieknows · 2 months

Text

High Cheng - Xu Minghao x Reader StonerAU (On-Going) Chapter Three

What happens when you get dragged to your best friends boyfriends party and end up getting high with a hot stranger, whom you got along with very well, only to realise the next day, you never got his name?

PLEASE READ AUTHORS NOTE AT THE END

Feedback/Constructive Criticism/Concerns can be given VIA comments, email ([email protected]), or private messages.

Read Chapter One: All Big Parties Suck

Read Chapter Two: A Smoking (hot) Stranger

CHAPTER THREE: A Cry Fest

MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: Drug Usage, College Party, Mentions of SA, Mentions of Cheating/Being Cheated On, Smoking

"You know what, sure. I'll take some hits from your joint."

"Cool." He takes one more hit before passing the half smoked joint towards me. I reach to grab it when he says "Nah uh, take a hit from my hands. It'll ease you back in better."

Yeah right. Definitely not how that works but, screw it. I take a hit and let the affects take over me.

"This shit is good! This the stronger stuff?"

"Mhm, I normally smoke the usual, but I needed something stronger to get me through this shithole of a party." He replies, taking another hit before offering me another.

"Yeah, I get that."

"Why'd you come anyways?" I take another hit. "Not that it's a bad thing. It's just like, you don't seem to know anyone here, and I have no idea who you are. You don't seem like the type to crash parties on the regular."

"You'd be right." I say as I exhale the smoke in my lungs watching him take another hit. "I was dragged here by my best friend. Her boyfriend's here since his old roommate is the one hosting and she wanted me to be here in case something happened. But after meeting this old roommate, she saw her boyfriend and I didn't feel like being a third wheel the whole time."

"Chai? I had no idea he had a new girlfriend"

"You know him?"

"Of course I do, I mean Shua's not his only ex-roommate."

"Oh, yeah right! I forgot you live here... and that this is your room." Gosh, I'm an idiot at some points.

"Yeah, this is my room. Speaking of my room. Whats the real reason you were in here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why were you crying?" he asks. Fuck. So he saw that.

"I wasn't crying!" I say defensively. As long as he didn't see what happened with the asshole Jack.

"Sure you weren't." He takes another hit, the roll shrinking as it burns more and more by the second. "Then explain the obvious tear stains on your face."

I remain silent, unsure if I should talk about it so freely.

"Look, you don't have to talk about it if you don't wanna. But I'm just saying, ranting to a stranger helps out more than you think. And I like to think I'm a good listener. But if you don't wanna, that's fine. We can chat about whatever you want to. Plus we're both high, it's not like the conversations gonna go boring."

"It's just that..." I pause, worried that if I continue to talk I might start to cry again.

"Hey!" He moves closer to me, moving his hand to lightly grab my chin, moving my face to stare at him. "It's okay to not feel okay. It's perfectly fine if things affect you, a lot of things will affect everyone. It doesn't make you less of a person for letting your emotions out. It does however stunt yourself from growing into a stronger person if you hold all that emotion in until it bottles up and explodes."

My heart feels like it going a million miles an hour. His touch, his words, the smell of the smoke wafting around, the buzz I'm feeling from said smoke. It's getting to be too much. But, he makes me feel safe. This total stranger, someone I've never met, someone who's balcony I am sitting in, someone who's sharing their joint with me, someone who is so willingly letting me rant to him about my problems without any judgement or butting in, just listens. Someone who finally makes me feel safe.

"Okay."

"Huh?" He removes his hand from my chin, my skin tingling, missing the feeling of his touch.

"I'll talk about it with you."

"Good, it'll help you, trust me."

"I do. Despite you being a total stranger."

He laughs a little in agreement before quieting down taking another joint out of his little container, lighting it and then offering me the first hit. I take the hit and exhale as I prep myself for the story about to come.

Time Skip: Y/N explaining the whole situation between Jack (A/N: I am not re-writing that whole section)

"So, yeah. That's how I ended up in your room. Which I am still very sorry for barging in by the way."

"No! No no, it's all good. I'm glad you found an empty room and didn't leave. If you left I wouldn't have a new smoking buddy."

I laugh a little, then I laugh even more. And suddenly I'm crying again. I can feel the tears falling down my face at a rapid pace, the snot running from my nose. The emotions finally overflowing from the metaphorical bottle that I've been stuffing my problems in to.

"Woah, woah! Hey. Hey! Look at me." I look up at him, the tears still pouring. "It's okay, don't worry. I'm here." He gets off his bean bag and moves to sit on mine, moving his arms to wrap around me, providing much more comfort than I ever thought a person could give. "You wanna know something?" I nod in a small motion, trying to stop myself from crying more. "You are who you are because of these tough matters in your life. Everything that Jack guy said is not true. Especially if you believe it not to be. You are who you choose to be. And from the little time we have spent together, you have chosen to be everything thats right in this world. We aren't perfect, and that's okay. We shouldn't have to be. What that asshole said to you has nothing to do with the way you dress, your smile, or your personality. And it is absolutely not your fault." He tightens his hold on me and I move closer to his chest, burying me face into his shirt.

"Thank you." I mumble into his chest.

He pulls away from the embrace, my body missing the way he held me. He moves to once again grab my chin, moving my face so that we maintain eye contact. "Any time. And I mean that. I know we met not long ago, and I know that you might not feel comfortable with me. But I want you to know I truly care for you. From the bottom of my heart. And I hope we can become friends in the future." He says, using his thumb to wipe away the tears remaining on my face.

"Me too. I don't know why, but I feel safe with you. From the minute we met. I just felt safe with you."

"I'm glad. You know, maybe we should stop being strangers?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"I mean, lets introduce ourselves." He moves to no longer face my directly, still sharing the bean bag with me. "I live here. Obviously. I'm roommates with Joshua which I assume you've already met."

"Oh, yeah, Bible Boy? We meet not too long ago."

He laughs. "Bible boy? Gosh I didn't realise that name would stick. I told him to stop carrying a bible with him everywhere around the campus."

"Wait? He actually carried one with him everywhere? I thought it was just some stupid joke."

"Nope! He claimed he had to have it around him because he lecturer for bible and religious studies would pop up out of nowhere and if he saw any of his studies without a bible, they would automatically fail the class."

"Shit, did he keep up with it the whole course?"

"Nah, he dropped out half way through. Claims it was like he was studying to enter a cult, something along the lines of how it isn't actually teaching about religion or spiritualities but more some cult work shit."

"Mmmm."

"Enough about Shua! What about you?"

"Well... I feel like you know a fair chunk about me already."

"I guess but not really. I mean, what courses are you in?"

"I'm going for a major in psychology with a minor in medicinal biology. So stuff like psychological analysis of the human brain. I wanna be a neuroscientist but that probably not gonna happen." (A/N: Feel free to change this to fit you better, I've just put this here as something.)

"I feel like you could. You just gotta try."

"I just realised, I never got your name."

"Oh, yeah. That's kinda important to break the fact we are strangers."

We both laugh.

"I'm Ming-"

The stranger gets cut off by the door slamming open. We both turn our heads and see Nayeon, her face red from what I can assume is her trying to rub away the tears that are continuing to fall down her face, her once tan body now pale.

"N/N? I'm sorry if you're with a guy or something, but can we please go." she says in a timid yet loud enough for us to hear her from the balcony.

The stranger and I get off the bean bag and hurriedly make our way over the the disheveled Nayeon.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? What happened?" I quickly move closer to her to embrace her in a tight hug. Her tears start to fall even quicker, her sobs getting louder as she cries into my shoulder.

"He cheated on me."

"What? Who? Chai?"

"Yeah. I went to grab us a refill of our drinks and got caught up chatting with an old friend I saw there." She takes a deep breath, trying to control her tears, however it doesn't work as she starts to sob once again, unable to continue her sentence. I look over to see the hot half-stranger looking around for tissues. He finds a box and hands them to me. I pull a few out and wipe away her tears as he motions for me to move her to the bed, letting her feel more comfortable. I smile weakly, silently thanking him for being so kind towards us, despite us now both having barged into his room. I move her towards the bed, letting her sit down.

"It's okay, take your time." I say reassuringly.

She takes another deep breath. "I was chatting with my friend when I realised 10 minutes had already gone by, so I excused myself and made my way back to him. When... When." I rub her back, in hopes of providing comfort. "When I see these two girls all over him. At first I was expecting him to push them away. But then he didn't and I couldn't move. Instead I just stayed there frozen, listening in. And then.. he... they... They asked him to have some fun with him... and he agreed...he kissed them, touching them all over, saying they couldn't do it right now because his 'clingy girlfriend' was still here. Then he said he would try and get me to leave so that they could continue sooner."

The room was quiet after that.

"I'm gonna to hurt him." A voice broke the silence. The stranger's voice to be exact.

Nayeon looks at me, still shaken up by the previously explained situation, however now slightly confused by this man defending her.

"I just met him today, he is a good person, trust me." I whisper to her, not quite wanting to explain everything that went down.

"I swear, I'll hurt that son of a bitch." The stranger continues about to barge out of the door.

I let go of Nayeon to quickly grab onto the stranger, stopping him from moving further.

"No need."

"Why? He's clearly hurt your friend and-"

"You won't need to because the second you get down those stairs, he will already be dead. By my fucking hands. That asshole!"

"No! Please N/N, can we just leave? I don't wanna create a whole thing about it."

I look at her. The pain in her soul showing through her entire body. She's right. I should just take her home.

"I'll drive both of you." the stranger offers.

"You can't, we were both smoking."

"I'll order you both an Uber."

"There's no-"

"No. I will order you both an Uber home. It's the least I can do... You both haven't had the best experience at this party and it's my duty to make sure the guests are treated well considering it's my house."

"Thank you."

We all walk downstairs, the stranger getting us an Uber as I tell him the address to Nayeon's house.

The Uber thankfully arrives quickly so there is no silence and we get inside and say our goodbyes.

"Tell Chai that they are over for me?" I quickly request the stranger.

"Of course. If you need anything please just let me know."

"Thank you."

I get inside the Uber and make sure Nayeon has her seatbelt on, nice and safe, before wrapping my arms around her to keep her within my body heat and embrace as we remain that way throughout the drive back to her house, her slowly falling asleep in my embrace as we near her house.

When we reach, she is fully knocked out, the left over tears staining her face. So, I decide to piggy back her to her bed, change her into more comfortable clothes and prepare some water and a small snack to leave on her bedside table.

I sigh, looking back at her as I make my way out her room, turning off her lights and closing her door, "Sleep well Nayeon." I say solemnly.

I close the door behind me and make my way to her couch, pulling out my phone scrolling on social media, before finally succumbing to slumber myself.

A/N: Please give me feedback on my writing! Two more chapters are posted (as of 23rd Feb 2024) however, the story is on-going.

This book is still in the works, and I desperately want to finish it this year. However, I'd like to make everyone aware of three issues. a) There are only three chapters published right now as I want to receive feedback from my audience on my writing style and plot building. Despite having been writing for many years, I am not confident in the style that I use for my stories and would appreciate constructive critique to help me improve future chapters. After a month of posting the chapters, further content will be added throughout this trail, I will collect the feedback, delete this section of my disclaimer, and apply my audience's feedback. Second, I am in my final year of school, therefore school comes first. Furthermore, my weekly schedule is extremely hectic, so many of these will be written during my rare free time or at times when most people are sleeping (don't worry, I will prioritise my health). Finally, this book covers mature issues like as drug usage, smoking, alcohol use, cheating, references to SA, and more. These will all be addressed at the start of the chapter so that you are aware in case triggers arise. Furthermore, I have never used drugs or any of the other topics discussed in this book, so I apologise if anything is incorrect.

Feedback/Constructive Criticism/Concerns can be given VIA comments, email ([email protected]), or private messages.

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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 10 months

Text

A God's Pride

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO (knots, slick, mpreg), Viking/god Col, fae Dom, bath time, baby fic (occasionally), loving boys, scared boys, teaching a baby to swim, cuddles, fluff, PTSD, possible past miscarriage (not explicit), fear of losing babies, panic attack, biting/marking, shifting, wolf Col, mentions of piss kink/omorashi ☠️ rating: mature/explicit ☠️ shared ideas by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Dom had grown used to the sensation of tiny hands grabbing at him, he had honestly grown used to being pawed at in general, but it was far more difficult as his son grew. When he was small the claws groping his skin stung of course but at two they were starting to see how much Ciarán would take after his father. He already had hands and feet that promised he would grow big and strong. It had taken them a while to finally be able to part after making love- who was he kidding- after they fucked, and by the time they stepped out to start the day their boy was fussy. To settle him they were taking a bath and where that had always been one of Dom's favorite things to do- with a squirming baby and a full womb it was quickly getting almost too difficult.

He was thankful for his mate who kept the boy distracted with their little tossing game. The first time Kol had thrown their boy a few feet away into the water he'd almost fainted but their boy also took after his mother enough to know how to swim. Kol'son was rough with his heir but he was learning it was just a viking thing. To the rest of their clan the man was a softie. "Ma! Mumma! Ma!" Dom shook himself from getting lost in his thoughts and smiled over at his babe. The boy was learning to float on his back and for that he deserved undivided attention and a soft applause.

"You'd fink mumma would be teaching ya but daidí might jus' be better." He teased his mate, moving closer in the spring and kissing the man's cheek. He didn't actually swim all that much any longer, he hadn't even worn his skin in… gods he couldn't remember. Ciarán had been splashing and swimming back and forth between them, grabbing Dom to turn himself around, but now that they were close to each other their son looked apprehensive of letting go. "You can make it. Daidí can reach you." He soothed with a smile but the child wouldn't budge. That was alright though, he didn't need to swim to the other side if he didn't feel safe. They'd both grown up so harshly they made damn sure their children would never feel forced or scared if they could help it.

Cia grinned and it was a blinding smile, his little cupid plump lips parted enough to show off his baby fangs and all the spotty places where they were still growing. Dom had expected human teeth in their babes so when Ciarán started teething and stabbed the siren's skin while feeding one day they'd all been surprised but now he couldn't picture him any other way.

A long arm went around the fae's shoulders and lips pressed to his temple. Kol'son was still full of happy post-coital hormones and wanted to snuggle. How could he ever want to do anything but touch his beautiful whelped mate? Especially when the selkie was naked and so very wet. "You alright ástin min?" He asked softly, nuzzling the boy's hair. Out of his periphery he kept an eye on their rambunctious babe but he could split his focus. In a way he was just watching all his children. His free palm slipped under the water to pet over Dom's belly, he was happy the littles had calmed after he pulled out but he truly enjoyed having their attention. He couldn't wait to have a bath full of pups. He was always amazed watching Cia and seeing what their son got from them both but the masterful water abilities he knew were all his wife- no matter what the fae teased.

"I'm fine Kols, you worry too much. You know I can 'andle more 'an tha'. It's cute you still fink ya co-" The siren paused mid word and glaced to their little prince. "Tha' you so scary me body can't take yas. Done far more wiv yas." He purred with a smirk and the god whined low in his throat.

"Just went hard. I know you can take it but the babes-" Dom pinched him, glaring up and he huffed softly. "-can handle it. Because you're made for me." That glare melted to a smile, one as blinding as their son's and he couldn't help grinning back. That happiness said he had been a good boy and alpha or not- that was always reassuring.

"Gift for a god." The siren winked. He could make jokes about his name though it had taken a while. It still hurt- the way he was raised, it probably always would, but since the day Kol first shifted he started questioning if maybe he was made for a god- just not the one his parents thought. "You okay? You seem…" He trailed off as the chieftain curled tighter around him. He didn't want to say 'clingy' because that sounded as if he weren't happy with being touched and he truly was but maybe- "Protective. You worried bout summat?"

Kol took a deep breath, the scent of his family relaxing the wild beast inside and after truly checking in with his senses he shrugged. He knew it wasn't a good answer but he honestly didn't know. "Nah I'm good. I think I just… I don't like you out."

Dom's brows furrowed and he wanted to give the man a look but with the Viking hugging him from behind like an octopus he could only show his confusion with a hum. "Out? Do you want me barefoot and pregnant and stuck in the bedroom?" He knew the moment it was out he shouldn't have said it but he couldn't take the joke back and he almost laughed at the way his husband's cock jerked against his ass and his hold tightened.

"Fuck yes." The god hissed truthfully before trying to fix it. "I mean no, but yes. I don't like that anyone else gets to see you. I want to keep you safe. The more I put inside you the more I want to hide you."

Dom giggled at that and shook his head. If his ass wiggled just a bit against the man it was certainly an accident. "Lucky you there's only one, aye?" He huffed, turning in those strong arms to wrap his own around Kol's neck. He knew deep down the god was probably right, and just that statement alone should prove the bastard probably knew exactly what he was talking about. He might not have full precognition but he would get feelings that would turn out true. Just because he saw the Viking as his god though, that didn't mean he would ever stop teasing or questioning the love of his life. He couldn't let him get an ego to match that title or his dick. Hands slipped down his back to grab his ass and a soft squeak escaped him but right as they were about to meet in the middle for a kiss Ciarán jumped up behind Kol to wrap those tiny arms around his neck.

A low growl rumbled in the man's chest but he still laughed. His son was never someone he got angry at for interrupting. Even when he was strangling him with his surprisingly tight hold. "Keep telling yourself that, I'll love on them enough for us both." He hummed before grabbing his baby's hand and pulling him up to sit on his shoulders.

A worry overtook the siren and he pulled away to let the boys play. He didn't want his fearful heart to ruin their happy morning. He'd never even thought of it like that and even though Kol'son hadn't meant to upset him the words were slightly horrifying. If he didn't accept there was more than one, was he ignoring the others? If they truly existed and he was being so pushy about there only being one… did that make him a bad mother? He'd been calling his husband a liar playfully since early in the pregnancy and now the thought made him feel a little ill. He just wished he knew how to find out for sure. He was so scared to fall in love with the thought of more only to have there be just one. They'd had too many moments in their last two years where he thought they might have caught but his heat was just late. At least that's what he vowed to himself had happened because he refused to accept they had lost anything else. They'd already been through too much.

He just knew if he accepted the thought of three or more and he let himself imagine them every night- if that weren't true? It would break him. He wanted to trust his husband's instincts, he wanted to ask Modig and Inga, but he didn't know if he would trust anything but his own eyes. Though his own sight already told him he was far larger than he should be. He knew he was starting to panic. He knew he needed to yank himself out of it because he had to be a wife and mother and he couldn't let himself sink every time something frightened him. That didn't stop his breath from coming faster or his heart from racing. He couldn't even tell what was going on around him anymore until a hot breath tickled his neck and a cool wet nose brushed his skin. His spiral didn't stop until fangs closed around his neck and bit down gently. His lover always knew how to help.

'Breathe Dom. I didn't mean to-'

"It weren't you. It weren't. Gods Kols I- I've been- and 'ey- I'm awful!" His voice went high and the wolf's jaw around him clamped down harder, dragging him out of the bath so he could sit on the ground and feel the earth below him.

'Shit I'm sorry. You're not hurting anyone. You're not ignoring anyone. You're an amazing mother ástin min. I know you worry about- but this is different. We're better now and we can do this. I was just trying to play with you, I didn't mean to hurt you.' That graveled voice soothed through Dom's mind and eased his fear and loathing. Neither of them could ever admit what they both might think deep down but this wasn't about that. This was solely about their pups. Present company only.

"Am I better now?" He sighed, finally able to take in his surroundings and realize someone took their prince away again. It was probably for the best, he needed to get out his emotions and then he could be strong. Or he needed to be distracted from them, he wasn't sure which sounded better. Those teeth let go and instead the god licked the water off his skin to help him dry and he smiled at the way it tickled. "I want to be. I… I wish we could know for sure. M'scared to fall in love wiv 'em Kols." He didn't mean to be so blunt but with his lover in pup form it always felt easier to talk. He didn't know why but they both found that true. It was easier to talk to a creature than it was to look into human eyes and bare their souls. "If 'ey ain't 'ere…"

Kol knew some of what Dom said wasn't just about the babes. They would never find out if Bjørn had hurt him and that was why the boy was so obstinate about proof before believing. That bastard had ruined so much but taking so much of his love's happiness and safety was the worst. At least the mild delusion kept him from admitting other bad things that may have transpired. Fuck maybe they did need help.

'They are. Here-' The pup moved fast, dropping his head to that swollen belly to rest his fluffy ear against wet skin. Dom shivered and his tail wagged once but as he listened for that small fluttering it started to move with the beat he found. His paws tapped happily, his body crouching in a little jump. Normally he could keep himself from being too wolf-like but when he felt truly happy all bets were off. His ear flicked, the other one drooping so he could put all his focus on one side. There! There was one beat- then two- and as he moved around the bump he loved so much he found a third.

Dom's panic vanished as he watched his giant puppy of a husband almost vibrating with excitement before the wolf sat back with wide red eyes and bounced before howling. A laugh escaped him as he tried to calm the god down but it was impossible and his lover took off, running literal circles around the spring. "You ain't being fair daidí! You gotta tell me!" He huffed, trying to catch the Viking's fur but it was no use. After a good ten laps the trot slowed and the beautiful blonde bastard tried to stop but he was too excited and he flipped over his large paws, ending up on his back right in front of the siren. Dom grinned down at him and scratched his chest, pressing a kiss to his snout.

'At least three. I could hear three Dom. I swear.' Those big red eyes were so earnest and eager and brimming with tears that the boy couldn't help but believe him. A soft sob left his lips but he was both so excited and still so scared. Could they handle it? 'No wonder I hate people around you. Should claim you more. Just to be safe.' That voice eased from soft and sweet to a low growl and Dom's brows furrowed.

"'Ow?" He whispered, stuck in a strange mental space between fearful, ecstatic, and aroused.

Kol'son shook himself and rolled over, standing on all fours as he watched his wife start to tremble. He didn't know if it was from fear, the cool air, or his power but the predator in him loved it. His tongue flicked out, licking a wet stripe over that swollen belly but on the second time he made sure to hit lower and work his way up and the flavor of his mate's slick made him shiver. Dom squirmed, his thighs falling open, his hips shifting forward. His husband's mouth was always amazing but there was something so claiming about his god form licking him from hole to tits. It dipped between his folds, cradled his balls, ghosted over his cock, and painted drool over his stomach and chest. Fuck his anxiety was gone like so much smoke. 'Can I scent mark you?' His mental voice was so deep it felt like sex itself in the siren's mind.

"'Ow?" He asked again, his breath trembling. He couldn't imagine saying 'no' to anything.

'Can I piss on you?'

Author's Note/Tags: @manicpixiedreamb0y @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

This one was slightly all over the place but hopefully in a good way. I thought since everyone has been so nice I might give you a little treat!

Jinx reader's can have a little omorashi as a treat 😂

I hope you're liking the new part so far! I'm really enjoying exploring how they've grown 🖤☠️

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mebemilena · 4 months

Text

Not like we have a date with destiny

You met Layla online and her visits to your store became more regular.

---

A/N:

it's been YEARS i don't post anything, just silently reading fanficion around. Gotta relearn how to use Tumblr again. I waited one year to watch Moonknight, always wait for the hype to pass because i know i get hyped too and my poor mind can't really take that. I absolutely loved Layla, that's a fact.

as usual, i'm just trying to exercise my english writing skills. I feel like this was a part of a bigger piece but I can't really develop much. Thank you for reading though. Life's been a bit difficult at times. Lots of anxiety and fear of the future. I wanted to get something light.

i'm starting a series, that's why Sersi is mentioned.

my AO3 link if you'd like to see.

You met Layla online. She sent a message to the store you worked at looking for a specific book. You attended her on the phone and she went to the bookstore shortly after, paying in cash.

"You're a lifesaver.", she thanked you.

Soon, her visits to the store became more regular. Layla would take her time to read the back of the covers or arrive with a specific request. You became friends over illustrated books though, specially the ones about ancient culture. You told her about your beliefs and about your own culture, finding it amazing when she shared her own story. There was no denying you had a great connection.

"We should go out for drinks.", Layla invited you. "We only meet when you're working or when I need something work related." she'd insist.

It was true. You had never met in other circumstances and knew very little about each other outside duty, except a few things you could notice by yourself. Layla was an interesting woman, she was gentle and polite. Maybe not very social but very friendly anyway. It wasn't hard to slowly fall for her but of course you decided to keep a safe distance. If she didn't like you like that by any chance, you were not up to spoil the friendship you were developing.

"Let's do it tonight then? It's Friday, tomorrow's my Saturday off", you agreed. Was it too soon?

Layla seemed to think for a moment. Almost like she didn't believe it had been so easy. All she had to do was ask. Simple like that. "Okay.", a smile ghosted her lips and she shook her head, as if getting rid of intrusive thoughts. "It's gonna be fun."

Around 6:30pm, when you had closed the store, Layla appeared by the door. She was supposed to text you her location and you'd meet here but she had other plans. "I thought it'd be nice for us to walk there, it's not far from here.", she explained.

Layla was uncaractheristicaly nervous. She was watching her feet as you walked to the bar and you could sense the thick atmosphere. Was she nervous?

"So, i think we could grab something to eat first.", She finally looked at you. "You know, so that we won't get drunk too fast."

You agreed, as easy as it sounds, and suggested a small cantina you liked. You had some pizza and decided to just try their wine, not wanting to leave the cozy place. You drank and ate and talked for hours, leaving only because the owner came talking to you saying it was time for them to close.

Layla walked you home, the cold air sobering you up way too fast. Your night couldn't end better, though you thought that maybe it could. If Layla kissed you goodnight.

You stood by your doorway and bent goodbye and Layla kissed your cheek when you hugged. It happened a few time after that. You went out for drinks or food, hanging out together for log walks, cultural programs and sometimes to watch movies at each other's place.

You were talking about your romantic life when you mentioned the last mess you got involved in. "She was nice and all. Really. We'd go to the museu, to natural parks. We had fun together, i thought we were fine. But then her ex came along and she just disappeared.", you told her, realizing that it didn't really hurt anymore.

Layla listened to you, giving the attention you deserved. There was a hint of something in her eyes and she smiled. "Just like we do? You seem to have a type.", she said, playfull.

You chocked on your drink.

Layla laughed at your antics and gave you a napkin. She kept looking at you, a smile never leaving her face. "I mean, you said she was a Historian, that she worked with museology, and i'm an archeologist. We both like going out for drinks and trying new food, we're both into ancient culture...", she explained.

Your jaw dropped, you were speechless. Layla looked into your eyes and took a big gulp of her wine before dropping the bomb. "We both have a close relationship with our exes, she told you. "I mean, i just got divorced.", her eyes inspected you for the smallest of reactions.

You felt your heart falling on the floor. If she had just gotten a divorce it meant she probably wasn't ready for any romantic bullshit. Part of you was okay with that, because you liked her a lot and were willing to accept what she had to give you. Another aspect she had in common with Sersi.

The other part of you was catching the bitter taste of rejection.

Layla was waiting for you to say something, you knew that. But there were no words for you to use. She seemed to understand the hint and started talking again. "We are friends though. Kinda.", she cleaned her throat. "We work together sometimes.", she explained and noticed you were still silent, which made Layla start to panic. Was it the wrong time? The wrong words?

She took a deep breath. "I don't know where this is going but i'd love for it to continue.", she smiled, almost shy at herself. You nodded and approached her side of the couch way too slowly , kissing the tip of her nose.

Layla relaxed and smiled larger. She placed her hands on your cheeks before kissing you on the lips.

---

#layla el faouly #layla el faouly x reader #moonknight fanfiction

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my-soul-sings · 9 months

Note

ahhh i would love a a sequel!!! would also love to hear your thoughts on artem’s birthday card as well if you’re up for it

ahhhh thanks anon! ok i'll get cracking haha <3

on his birthday card... I think I just didn't get the whole conflict thing. If anyone wants to explain it to me please feel free, perhaps I'm just not understanding this right.

So a couple things:

Firstly, the whole thing about Artem needing help to resign from Themis Law Firm as the cover story didn't make any sense at all lmao. It's not something that a third party like Ellice White can help with since he's literally not in the law firm. And resigning is just something the partner/associate can decide to do on their own. Unless, the issue is whether Artem will be allowed to take his clients with him (since the firm will technically be losing its clients to him if he does that) - but that's not what was mentioned in the story so I really don't know what they were trying to do here. I just don't think this game understands how law firms work? Or maybe something was lost in translation. Idk. But yeah they could have come up with a better cover story than this (eg. needing Ellice White's help to influence the outcome of a case).

Secondly, Artem seems to be concerned about things that aren't actually related: (1) The fact that people around him (including the people he looked up to) could change for the worse and (2) what MC thinks of him (because he was able to play the role of the villain so well i guess).

I mean (1) is fair, although it seems like a very juvenile thing to be upset about at his age. With the things you see as you grow older I think you just kind of accept that people can / will change as a matter of fact, and that many people aren't actually good people (idk as a lawyer I've seen shit and I imagine Artem would/should have as well). So yes maybe someone you looked up to might change down the road but it's also not something he should have to consider because it's all hypothetical. I get being shocked by the fact that eg. Ellice White changed so much, but I can't really see why it would cause such a seismic shift in his mood.

As for (2)... really didn't understand this part because by now Artem and MC have been dating and you'd think he'd know what she thinks of him and his character already?? WHY IS THIS SOMETHING HE'S QUESTIONING AT THIS STAGE. THEY'VE WORKED WITH EACH OTHER FOR SO LONG, IF THE RIGHTEOUS JUSTICE-FOR-ALL SAINT MC THOUGHT HE WAS A BAD GUY SHE WOULDN'T HAVE CHOSEN TO DATE HIM AT ALL. AAAAAAAHHHHHHH. It's like I'm reading a shoujo manga and with the female lead constantly second-guessing the male lead's feelings for her at every single plot point. Did not like this!! And then he was also scared that maybe he might change? That, well, I mean, going rogue is a conscious decision you make and it's hypothetical and just... don't be corrupt..? You'll be fine Artem. Trust me.

And for my last point it's actually more of a question because MC gets shocked when she sees the video interview of Artem when he just won that old case as a young attorney because it's different from what he told her but ??? I didn't get it. At all. I don't even understand how different it was from what he told her. Maybe someone with a full brain can explain this to the half-brained me haha.

So yep. These are my thoughts on Artem's birthday card. If anyone is better able to break this down in a way that makes this story make sense please do share!! But yeah overall I remember being SUPER disappointed with this card story and just annoyed because one of the reasons I like Artem is because he's supposed to be more mature, notwithstanding his hilarious lack of experience in his love life. But the things that he gets worried about in this card story just seem so juvenile and not very well thought out. Feels like the writers just decided to give him an internal conflict for shits and giggles instead of the usual "here's a secret talent you never knew Artem had, now go off on a new, different activity today for this card story" approach. T_T

#asks #Anonymous #tears of themis #artem wing #tears of themis artem

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mossfeathers · 2 months

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Thank you for answering and welcoming my questions! ^^ (I sorta tried to pre-organize my thoughts so I hope the formating of this isn't too strange, sorry if is.)

Your sirens are very neat, I think. :3 I enjoyed reading about them. I'll definitely be ready when more info on them sprouts up.

And ooo yes sweethearts is a very cute duo name for them. I like that a lot. ^^

I haven't actually played Stardew but I did grow up playing games in the series that inspired it so I think I'm picturing the vibe right, I feel like it could be very Harvest Moon, HM: Animal Parade especially. (I liked fishing too ^^ tho idk if it was so much a skill as it was just something you can do for recipes and money and got better at w/ better fishing rods)

& the setup overall seems like fun. Love the complete oblivion to start.

And since you welcomed my questions last time and said you'd like to hear if I have any more, here's some more questions!

Can we hear a bit more about the dynamics the characters will have with each other so far? It'd be fun to here about, if you want to share that of course. ^^

You mentioned before that Scar & B are brothers in this au and that it'd also be a whole other post. Is that anything you can share with us yet? Or is it future info, It's fine if it is.

Oh but otherwise can I ask how you decided on a lionfish for Scar?

Also, are the others(like Lizzie & them) around as less important townies and seafolk?

Thank you for your time and sharing your ideas!

HI ANON I FORGOT TO RESPOND TO THIS IM SO SORRY OMG Literally always makes my entire day and week and month and also year tbh when you send in an ask and I love you so much (/p)

I've never checked out Harvest Moon before, I'll be sure to try and find a letsplay or something like that. From what I looked up of it, it looks adorable and I can totally see how it inspired Stardew :)

I think Grian and Jimmy are closer to their livestream/non-traffic dynamics, the main difference just being Grian cares a little more for Jimmy outside of the life series (apart from limited life). Grian bullies Jimmy but would do anything for him, Jimmy despises Grian but would do the same. Plus they make each other 500 times sillier and goofier. They're just really close friends, likely either grew up together or met in their late teens and were roomies for a while. Classic bullying friendship. Grian's quick to blame Jimmy, but quicker to take the actual blame if need be. Jimmy's quick to get frustrated with Grian but they're usually fine by the end of the day.

Grian and Scar are close to third life, Grian being exasperated with his attempts to scam him and Scar just being a silly little menace. Oddly enough, I haven't thought of many specific interactions, but based on Grian and B's first in-universe interaction I'd imagine Grian just threatens Scar if he ever tries to use his voice on him and that stops Scar from using it real quick. Doesn't mean that he won't tease G a lot. They're best friends. I gotta catch that grian+scar disease so I can more thoroughly think about them, I can only make them besties and happy forever. That doesn't slide in this AU, unfortunately.

Grian and B are really interesting, actually. In their first interaction (at least I think), Grian makes a very close threat on B's life if he ever uses his voice. He's rather aggressive in this au, but this is only because of the fact that sirens don't have a super awesome reputation and also because, in the context, Jimmy is missing and Grian suspects it's to do with sirens. I think. But after that, they bond a lot over their dumbass siblings and just the fact they like each other so much. Grian's oddly fanboy-ish over B in a really silly way and B just thinks Grian is awesome.

BIGB AND JIMMY!!!!!!!!! They're so incredibly underrated. They are SO silly. They just click with one another. I'm going to try to incorporate their super long friendship by just making them hit it off straight away when they first meet (in the life series, especially, they just constantly bring up inside jokes from hanging out, especially irl. they're absolutely adorable. i'll be genuinely shocked if they don't team next life series). They really like each other, and one of the main things about their dynamic is that Jimmy just thinks B is plain cool, and B thinks Jimmy is absolutely the funniest man alive. Really liking how Jimmy, quite possibly the most clueless man alive, is besties with the sirens. Very fitting.

I can totally talk about Scar and B being siblings! One of the reasons I didn't answer this in your previous asks (sorry about that btw) was just I didn't really know how to word it? Again, this au is very self-indulgent and I just really like the Scar and Bigb dynamic, and also really like weird sibling dynamics where they don't quite like each other and probably wouldn't be besties if they were allowed to not grow up together. But they did. And they're besties. And don't quite like each other. Except it's even more weird than this because B doesn't quite like Scar but absolutely loves him but also would really rather prefer to never interact with him ever (one of my favorite clips of them is b hanging out in third life, hearing scar's voice in the distance, and instantly saying 'oh no oh no oh no i gotta get out of here'. then scar comes to swindle him. a very similar thing happened in last life but scar didnt even come to swindle him, he just showed up at the shadow tower after the fairy fort burned down and b just runs and hides behind a little stone box. bugs to me). And Scar loves B soooo much but even more than that he loves teasing him. 'Life series best friend' has been referenced every single life series. And most of those times has been during a moment B is not red and Scar is. Very untrustworthy man. But at the same time I just know in my heart of hearts that given the chance (forcing them on a team together) they would be SO dynamic and interesting with a more haphazard trust and confused devotion type thing going on. So yeah: Guys who would absolutely never talk to one another again in their life if not for the fact they're siblings, but since they are they absolutely love each other. Oddly, that's inspired by how my mom talks about her and my aunt (her sister), and kind of how I feel about my own sibling. I haven't really thought out parental/other family ties, and i'm leaning towards either just having siren culture be very independent from parents or just never explicitly addressing it, as I don't really think it's that important, even though B and Scar's childhood is (I do not know what the details of their childhood are yet. i am such a good storyteller. clearly.)

Being completely honest, I chose a lionfish because I think they're cool, I just kinda got Scar vibes from it, and I associate him with orange. As with all good decisions, it was completely random and I'm actually super happy with it! I guess it also plays into his dangerous side, with the toxic needles and all that. If you happen to have any ideas for what B's tail could be (doesn't need to be blue tbh i'm just trying to get an idea), I would LOVE to hear it!

As for side characters, I have a few townsfolk planned out and kind of forgot to think of more seafolk. I think Gem and Impulse run a bakery (impulse bakes, gem decorates), Martyn and Ren co-own a pub (look up the stardrop saloon from stardew valley, kinda looks like that but they have little shows and a stage and all sorts of little entertainment things in it), Pearl has something to do with spirits and the supernatural (I'm toying with the idea of having an arc where she gets possessed and there's a whole red pearl thing with an angry spirit), and a number of other hermits/lifers (?) are villagers. Since the town is built on fishing and farming due to how rural it is, that's a lot of their occupations. Still, very few choose to live on the beach, as we know. In terms of merfolk, I just know that Etho is a sea slug and Iskall is a manta ray. Sorting some people into 'categories', Scott, Skizz, and Cleo are merfolk (sirens or not, undecided) and Bdubs, Tango, Joel, and Lizzie are townsfolk. I kinda want to explore other "supernatural" creatures (hence Pearl's potential ghost arc), so I might make a few of the villagers some other creatures. That's all up to fate, though.

I hope you don't mind, but i'll be leaving your other ask in my inbox just so I can go back and look at it easily. Thank you so much for the kind words and interest in my silly little au! More questions and ideas are always welcome!!

#moss ask answers #sweethearts siren au #grian #solidaritygaming #goodtimeswithscar #bigbst4tz2 #life series au

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