#I made this sketch of this a while back like late in the middle of the night on a whim

[mc-tummy-blur]

Got a headcanon where Jack, when he’s not on his joy, bites his thumb in irritation. Mainly used as a reference to the Shakespeare meaning of biting one’s thumb (either flipping someone off or challenging them to a fight), with him being an actor and all. Also could be a way for him to stim, both ideas can coexist

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[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

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[radio-fmm]

Dear Luffy

Luffy x fem!reader

2k words, sfw

Sanji finds out about your crush on Luffy, would he be able to keep the secret?

Masterlist | Pt. 2

Sanji’s heart dropped to the depths of his stomach as he stood still in the middle of your room, a piece of paper in his hands

Truth was he didn’t wanted to be in this position, as incriminating as it looked

You had lost your glasses that morning. You had been looking everywhere but to no avail, the task becoming quite difficult without them too. Of course Sanji being the gentleman he is, offered to help you look starting with your bedroom

Big mistake

His eyes bore at the letter in his hands that had wrinkled under his unrelenting hold. Luffy’s name spelled at the top with dear attached to it with your handwriting makes his eyes drop out of his skull

You like Luffy?

Of course you do, Sanji then recalls all those times you decided to stay up later to accompany him on his night watches so he ‘wouldn’t fall asleep’ face beaming. How you were always, without a doubt, the first to jump on his crazy ideas and adventures. All of the times he had catch you sneaking around the kitchen late at night, only to then find out that Luffy send you for snacks for him to eat knowing he wasn’t allowed. That look of adoration he’ll catch in your eyes when looking up at your Captain

It was unmistakable

“Sanji! I found them!” - Your voice echoed trough the hallway and the cook curses, without missing any more seconds he hides the letter on its rightful place under your pillow and drops to his knees, hopefully he’ll look as if he was innocently searching under your bed he didn’t

The sound of the doorknob followed by his name makes the blood rush to his ears, heart thrumming in his chest as he prays he can meet your eyes like a normal person, trying not to think about the huge secret he just read about

“Thank god my darling!” He gets up at the speed of light, he’s surprised he didn’t passed out from the harsh movement

Immediately you feel something is wrong

Sanji stands in the middle of your room, eyes darting in every direction, clammy hands fiddling with his cigarette, a nervous smile on his features

“Are you ok San-“

“Fantastic! Why wouldn’t I be?-“ Slowly and desperately, the blonde makes his way out of your room, fumbling every step and almost falling along with your dresser that was tucked on the corner of the place -“Anyway, I gotta go back to the kitchen, dinner won’t cook itself!”

Finally he reaches the handle and disappears, his heart pounding and mouth dry

“Nami was right, he’s kinda weird…”

Shit shit shit, he feelt dirty, invading a ladys privacy like that? Unforgivable. What panicked him the most tho, was not what he knew or how he found out, no no no

It was the fact that he knows he won’t be able to shut his mouth about it. Sanji is a bad liar, specially lying to beautiful ladies, and as it turns, there’s 2 very much noisy ladies aboard The Sunny

Shit

His mind in a reverie, shaky slender fingers scavenging for another cigarette as he made a bee-line to the kitchen

“Mr. cook” Robins calls, echoing trough Sanji’s head, a shiver running down his spine as he looks up to her, head resting on her palm, prying eyes examining his every move

“Oh! Tigress, didn’t see you there” he fakes a smile as better as he can, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions

“Did y/n find her glasses?” There’s a squint, very small and almost undetectable when she mentions you, waiting for a reaction from the poor blonde cook

He sweats, heavily “Ah yes! She did” a painfully fake giggle scapes his mouth along with the smoke he was keeping in. They both stare at each other, as if waiting for someone to do or say anything… after a while Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen, knowing he’ll be safe once he steps in

Very loud, very incorrect buzzer

His relief is short lived as he enters the kitchen and he catches a glimpse of Nami. She was working on some maps, ponytail and glasses on sketching the day away. Sanji’s blood runs cold

You see, there’s a difference between being questioned by Robin and being questioned by Nami, the latter lacking as certain touch when it comes to her words… and being the queen of noisy

“Nami swan” he drags the last word as in disbelief, she has never in the time they had sailed, worked on her maps in any other place that isn’t her office

The navigator’s head snaps. Completely unaware of the panic petrifying him at the entrance “Oh hey Sanji! The sun hits the kitchen at this hour, better light” she points to her work before getting back to it

Surely he could make it right? Cook for the whole crew without spilling a syllable of what he had read, sounds easy enough

Again, very loud incorrect buzzer

“LUFFY?” Nami’s voice echoes trough the walls, her maps long forgotten as the poor poor cook stood mortified in front of the half cubed vegetables for the soup he was planning to do

Turns out the navigator was far more preceptive than he thought. Sanji was reciting every single detail of what happened within 30 minutes of him just smoking like a psycho and cutting vegetables in terrible cubes

“You can’t tell anyone! She would never forgive me for accidentally snooping around” he begs, resuming his meal prep

“Whatever, that’s not the important part! We have to do something with this” she presses the matter with wide eyes

“No”

“Yes!”

“Darling we-“

“We should what?” Both of the very loud crewmates remain frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape as the Captain himself stands at the door, nostrils open as he takes in the aroma of the soon to be dinner, behind him walks Robin, a sly smile on her lips

Silence, deafening silence

“What were you talking about?” Of course the archeologists pushes the matter, already knowing something was stewing between the two

“Nothing” both culprits answer as they resume their individual tasks that had been forgotten

Robin is no fool, she notices how both steal panicked glances at her Captain who is just completely lost on the dinner cooking up in front of him to notice. How Sanji, the best cook she had ever had the chance to encounter is messing up steps as he fights to make the soup. How Nami kept re drawing the same set of mountains on the map

The tension was no joke

“Captain, did Mr. Shooter showed you the impressive fish he caught this morning?” Luffy brightens at Robins words

“WHAT? I have to see it! Bet it would taste delicious!” In a blink, Luffy has left the kitchen enticing a relieved sigh from the cook that does not go amiss for anyone

“You two are going to tell me what’s going on”

That damn soup was taking way too long, Luffy was bouncing up and down impatiently, stomach loud with hunger. You being the good friend that you are decided to try and get a snack, maybe a little flutter from your eyelashes would get Sanji to budge and let you take something before dinner. The Sunny was rarely quiet, the sound of the oceans waves crashing on the ship a sweet melody that had you skipping happily. As you neared the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks as a set of voices reached your ears, was there a meeting or something? Weird, Sanji doesn’t like a lot of people around when he’s cooking

Curiosity got the cat, you rest your ear flat against the door trying to make out the conversation behind it

“… a letter… it was an accident… she really likes him… he has no idea… you know how Luffy is…”

Oh

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch it, hands run to your mouth as you stay put before the door, brain scrambled as it glues the pieces together

Someone found your love letter

The sound of heavy heels approaching the door takes you out of your daze as you scurry away like a cat, running away from the inevitable. You hear Nami call your name but the embarrassment doesn’t allow you to turn as you scape to your room

Closing the door behind you with a loud tud, you run to your bed and find the letter under your silky pillow, your face turning red as you imagine one of your crewmates reading your words. You can hear your heart in your ears before you reap the letter, the sound deafening on your quiet bedroom. How pathetic you felt, like a spec of dust on a shelve with your feelings in your throat

Of course you were a no show for dinner, worried faces on Sanji, Nami and Robin who decided to leave you alone, the damage already done they didn’t wanted to pester you any more than they already had

You were a very shy person when it came to this kind of things, which was funny considering you were usually a very confident and outspoken person, but feelings? they were too much for you, opting by writing them down which you now see as probably a bad habit. You curse for the millionth time staring up at the ceiling in hopes the ocean would leak in and take you away, spitting you on the other side of the world. A couple of nocks on your door stop your train of thought, you don’t answer making the person on the other side impatient, so they opt to just open your door

Luffy stares at you for a moment as so do you, he didn’t know what was happening thank god

“Are you ok? You didn’t came down for dinner” something Luffy didn’t joked about was food that’s for sure

“Yeah I’m… just a little tired”

He grimaces, a rare look on the strawhat boy it makes you wince

“But you need to eat” he retorts

“I’ll eat later Luf, don’t worry”

He stares again, big chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a contemplative hmm vibrating from his chest. You remain frozen, still too embarrassed to even meet his eyes for more than 5 seconds

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Luffy had this amazing ability of always finding the correct words, your face falls and you swear your pulse had accelerated enough to be audible. You sit with his statement, and you feel troubled. Of course he’s right as he always is, it makes you feel stupid to even think about being embarrassed about having feelings, but you steal a glance at his face and the red in your cheeks remind you why are you feeling so mortified

Remind you how dear he is to you

You would hate yourself forever if you were to ever ruin this, this friendship and trust with your Captain. You value that above all else even if it means hiding during meals

“Yes, of course Luf” you smile, a hurtful kind of smile that makes the rubber boy grimace even more

“I can eat with you if you want”

“I said I am tired”

“Yeah but like, if you are up for it later” his genuine concern bends your will, not being honest to him burns like acid

“I’ll let you know if I go to the kitchen”

Finally Luffy gives you the most beautiful bright honest smile, then he just disappears

This whole situation was so stupid, why were you embarrassed about feeling feelings? How dumb. If someone would’ve told you how difficult it would be to deal with love at sea, maybe you would’ve thought a little more about becoming a full time pirate

Of course you went down to eat your dinner later that day, of course Sanji happily warmed it up fro you and of course Luffy joined you

And of course he ate half of it

Pt.2

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) epilogue

summary: they ass is NOT doing homework 🤣

wc: 1k+

A/N: That's a wrap, guys! tysm for reading and enjoying!

prev 'if you believe in me'

“Miles, what is this emo shit you got me listening to?” you laughed.

Miles was currently in the middle of an imaginary drumming solo next to you, with two mechanical pencils as drumsticks. Once the final cymbal crashed, he turned to you to respond.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s emo, that beat goes crazy. You done with your conclusion yet?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“No, but I’ve got all my body paragraphs together.”

“That shit is due Monday,” the boy adjusted his glasses, “Mr. Padilla don’t do extensions.”

Shutting your laptop in protest, you got up and stretched your arms. “Can we take, like, a ten-minute break?”

Miles smirked. “The last half hour felt like a ‘break’, but sure.”

The smirk fell from his face when he noticed you staring at something on his desk.

“Aye, don’t touch nothing–”

“Is this me?”

Too late.

Miles’ notebook was already in your hands, flipped to a page full of sketches of your face. There were little lines scratched out next to each sketch, as if he were measuring the proportions of your eyes, nose, ears... 

His lines were sharp and geometrical, as always, but they softened at your hair and lips. Speaking of lips, there was an oddly-detailed sketch of them off to the side. He’d even managed to include the suggestion of gloss.

You looked up to see Miles standing in front of you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. 

“You done invading my privacy yet?” 

“Nope,” you placed a finger on the page. “How long did you need to stare at my face for this?”

You held back a laugh when he tensed visibly.

“Not long enough for it to matter,” he deadpanned, finally snatching the notebook out of your hand. “It was just a study.”

“Oh, so you’ve been ‘studying’ my lips? Got it.”

Miles’ eyes flickered down at them as you spoke before he returned to his spot on the bed. “Whatever. Break’s over.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you teased as you followed him, “the drawings are nice! You made me look prettier.”

The boy looked at you like he wanted to say something - to argue - but he remained silent. You elbowed him playfully in the side.

“What, you think I’m ugly, then? I’m telling you, Morales, one day we gon’ fight–”

“No,” he interrupted.

“Complete sentences, please,” you mimicked, laughing when the boy sucked his teeth in response.

“Fine. No, you’re not ugly, and I like drawing you. Can we move on?”

With a triumphant smile, you finally cracked open your laptop again. “Yes, yes we can. I need your genius powers to proofread this for me.”

Miles leaned in to get a good look at your screen, hitting you with the crisp scent of sports deodorant and some generic brand of lotion. You watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read your work out loud to himself in a low mutter. While he read, your gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on his side profile. His ears were now delightfully occupied by tiny gold studs that you would’ve missed at a farther distance. Past his jawline at the nape of his neck, a thin gold chain peeked out at you from beneath his black graphic tee.

Your eyes met Miles’ the moment you brought them back up to his face, amusement playing on his features.

“Yo, are you good? There something on my shirt?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Go back to reading.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done. I just said you need to switch these two body paragraphs so they flow better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he laughed, dimples on display. “I’m scared I’mma get my face stolen one day. Do you stare at everybody like that?”

A beat of silence passed as you considered whether to say something bold a second time, if not just for a reaction.

“...Nah, it’s just you.”

Miles blinked, the smile dropping from his face. “Huh?”

“You’re nice to look at, and I can’t draw you in my notebook to make it last longer,” you tilted your head comically. “Staring will have to do.”

Like clockwork, the boy’s hand shot up to his ear to toy with his piercing. He glanced out of the window. 

“The sun’s setting, you should really get that essay done,” he blurted out before narrowing his eyes at you. “What’s so funny?”

You had a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, “it’s funny when you’re nervous.”

Miles scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you sang, beginning to type your conclusion paragraph.

There was no response. 

Your typing slowed as the silence grew long, feeling Miles’ eyes on you until you finally stopped to look at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He leaned in closer until your noses were in danger of brushing each other, looking determined despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You met his gaze with a challenge.

“Well? You just gon’ sit there?”

Miles couldn’t hear anything above the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut as he closed the distance between you. 

No one told him that kissing would feel this weird.

For one, your lip gloss wasn’t half as sticky as he’d anticipated it to be, tasting like artificial fruit flavoring. Your sweaty palm came up to rest on the side of his face and kept him anchored as his breath stuttered. Having no idea where he would put his hands (another thing no one had explained to him), he kept them flat on the mattress for support as you deepened the kiss and he leaned back. 

Your hand was gripping his chin now to guide his face. Having kissed at least two other boys before, you had a vague idea of where it was supposed to go. Unlike the other two, Miles was tense, almost unmoving, despite being the initiator.  

Miles’ head buzzed when you pulled away, chuckling softly.

What the hell was so funny? The boy felt white hot blood rapidly coursing through all of the veins in his body at once. He thought he might start floating, like a hot air balloon. Or explode. Or vomit. Preferably the first one.

“Are you okay?” you asked, dropping your hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

He blinked slowly, three times. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. That was, um…” 

Hand on the neck. “Interesting.”

“A good interesting, I hope,” you laughed.

Miles tilted his head, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“I don’t think I’d mind doing that again.”

Handing the boy your phone, you said, “I think you’d need my number for that.”

-

[lovelynim]

TickleTober2024/Day 29 - Help

Genshin Impact - Alhaitham x Kaveh

Alhaitham was a good roommate. And a good junior too. And a good partner. Kaveh never denied any of those. He, in fact, acknowledged them almost on a daily basis.

He also acknowledged the fact that Alhaitham could be a big, sharp and burning pain in the ass when he wanted to. Out of stubborness, attitude or for whatever other reason the scribe deemed fit for his tantrums, as Kaveh would call these episodes.

Gladly, there was one thing he could rely on whenever he needed to stir Alhaitham back to the right track: he was ticklish. No matter how important his titles sounded or how big his muscles got, ever since Kaveh found out about this trait of Alhaitham back in the Akademiya, he always made sure to use it properly to his advantage.

And, to help him exploit such feature, Kaveh would always rely on Mehrak’s help. At times, Kaveh felt like he could count on his relic even more than the people around him. Of course, they were all helpful and caring in their own ways, but Mehrak…

“Release me now,” Alhaitham muttered, his brows furrowed and hands tightly clenched into a fist.

“Apologize first,” Kaveh ordered, his arms crossed in front of his chest while making sure Mehrak’s energy remained focused around Alhaitham’s wrists, securing his hands behind the scribe’s back. “Or face the consequences, ‘Haitham.”

“I did nothing wrong, senior,” Alhaitham snapped, adding an extra bit of attitude on that last part. Kaveh clicked his lips, sighing. The hard way, then.

Alhaitham leaned away from his senior when Kaveh walked over him and straddled his lap, but his back was soon met with the soft couch’s cushions, leaving him ultimately cornered, trapped and at Kaveh’s mercy. 

“Well,” Kaveh shook his head, feigning disappointment and trying his best to hide how excited he got whenever he could abuse Mehrak’s functions to overpower Alhaitham, “first: you spilled coffee over my sketches.”

“H-hngh!” Alhaitham groaned, almost as if in pain, when Kaveh poked both sides of his ribcage at the same time, one index finger prodding at each of his sides and moving up and down his torso. Oh, archons. “K-Kaveh, you-”

“Second: you forgot to wake me up in the morning like I told you to and made me get up late.”

“W-wahait, yohohou didn’t wahant to get up!” Alhaitham protested, but there was no judge in this trial, just him, Kaveh and Mehrak. He giggled nervously, his legs kicking as Kaveh clawed at his hips, making him grit his teeth while a crooked up smile pulled at his lips.

“And last, but not least,” Kaveh smirked, leaning a bit closer, “you forgot to kiss me goodbye before going to work.”

Alhaitham widened his eyes. Kaveh was the one hurrying over the house all morning, how was he supposed to kiss him?!

“But th-”

“Nah-ah,” Kaveh interrupted, wasting no other second before shoving his hands under Alhaitham’s arms and tickling him there. Alhaitham threw his head back in a loud fit of laughter, trying to break free with no avail. It was useless to fight if Kaveh was counting with Mehrak’s help, “we already had that talk. You’re wrong, I’m right. Now, let me remember what other bad things you did while we are at it…”

A/N: I want to say that I'm sorry if this one feels a little off. I wrote it after/in the middle of a mental breakdown and it took a toll on me lol

[gdbatbitch]

TL;DR Please, please. I’m at the absolute end of my rope and can use all the help I can get. Also, just putting out there for those that prefer alternates: my PayPal is dextra.hoffman@gmail.com, Venmo is @Dextra-Hoffman, and CashApp is $DextraDawn. Thanks y’all.

I wish I had the spoons to talk about how horrible I have been feeling the last few weeks in real time. Especially the last 3 weeks. You don’t realize how much one little gland will mess up your entire existence until it’s defective or gone. I’ve been without my thyroid for 10 months now. And I’m still suffering the repercussions of it. 

My biggest issue is my TSH levels. I’ve had to have dosage adjustments twice since January, and each time it results in weeks of adjustment time, and a good portion of that, I’ve been completely laid out because of being unable to function. The symptoms can vary, but generally involve massive fatigue, nausea, hot flashes and cold spells/sweats that I’m not able to control and barely able to combat, dehydration, weakness, and just having that feeling you get with a high fever and a flu where you feel half in and half out of reality and not sure if you’re actually alive or you’re a ghost. 

Also because these hormones think they’re that special, they also affect my mental health by spiking my adrenaline levels and triggering my anxiety. My anxiety alone can shut me down for days. It’s been well documented. So the physical symptoms would trigger my anxiety. I have a really high pain tolerance, but sickness not so much. And I have never felt sicker in my life than I have in the last month. So not only was I feeling like I was dying, I was terrified the entire time.

I’ve not gone into great detail about it openly because it was so scary, and I know when I’m in panic mode I can’t really trust my own mind to determine the seriousness of a situation. So I kept it quiet, at least quiet for me. 

Of course, all of this has completely destroyed my plans of getting back to work and out of this poverty rut I’ve been in for months. I had a job lined up, but the start date was right in the middle of my being incapacitated. I tried to work with the company to push back my start date, but that didn’t happen. I’m in the midst of interviewing for a job that would be absolutely perfect, but I’m still waiting for next steps on their part. Aside from those, as anyone currently seeking a job will tell you, it’s abysmal out there. I’ve applied for over a hundred jobs in the last 4 months and I’ve barely gotten any responses. 

I’ve been asked if I’m going to be doing art commissions, and if I were more capable, sure. I’d be silly not to try. But I’ve not been anything close to capable for weeks. I’ve only been back to 100% for a few days now, and even that has been sketchy. So I’m putting a pin in that for now, at least until I can knock out a sketch or two to knock the rust off. 

I was hoping to be done with fundraising, it’s so nerve-racking. But right now, my survival is in peril. I just submitted a request for what will be my last unemployment payout. It wasn’t much, but it was barely keeping me afloat. After that, I’m kinda screwed unless I can figure something out. 

I still haven’t made rent for August, my car payment is late, I’ve got bills up to my ears and I’m just worried that I’m not going to have those things very very soon if I can’t keep up. If I can at least hit the goal on the fundraiser, that can keep me going until I can get back to work (fingers crossed). 

I’ve been struggling with asking for help for a while now because I feel like I’ve been holding my hat out for far too long, but I don’t really have a choice anymore. I’ve also been struggling with a lot of internalized ableism as well because I know I’m disabled and shouldn’t push myself as hard as I do. But that’s a rant for another time.

Please, please. I’m at the absolute end of my rope and can use all the help I can get. Also, just putting out there for those that prefer alternates: my PayPal is dextra.hoffman@gmail.com, Venmo is @Dextra-Hoffman, and CashApp is $DextraDawn. Thanks y’all.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So. It's kinda random but what if Platonic Yandere! Strawhats with Y/n who is an artist? And maybe one day they saw how Y/n drew one of them but doesn't want to show any?

Let me see!

Yandere Straw Hats x GN!Reader

1.4k words

It was rare to get any time to yourself around here. Ever since you got mixed in with the Strawhat Crew, you felt like you always had someone attached to your hip or hovering over your shoulder. This made indulging in your personal hobbies difficult. Granted, it’s not like any of them would stop you from doing it, but you wanted to keep at least one thing for yourself.

Today was one of those instances where you were actually being left alone. You’re not sure how it happened this time. Maybe they all thought you were already spending time with someone else. Whatever, you’re not about to waste these precious moments pondering it.

Quietly slipping into your room, you pull your sketchbook and utensils out of their hiding spot. You curled up in your bed and flipped through the book until you found a blank page. Twirling the pencil between your fingers, you contemplate what to draw.

Despite your.. Complicated relationship with the crew, you couldn’t help but be inspired by them. Well, artistically speaking at least. They were constantly doing all these incredible feats and looking cool as hell while doing it. That, and it’s not like you saw much else besides them anyways.

After mulling it over, you start sketching, having decided on drawing Luffy today. He was an incredibly fun person to draw, what with his admittedly adorable baby face and his cartoonish anatomy. 

It didn’t take long for you to really get into the zone and be only focused on putting new lines onto the sheet of paper. You’re so focused that you don’t hear the door to your room open, nor the sound of sandals slapping across the floor until it’s too late.

“(Y/N)! Why are you hiding in here, I’ve been looking for you!” Luffy giddily rushed towards your bed and threw himself onto it, and subsequently you.

Frantically, you try to hide the sketch book under the covers, but he already saw it. Perking up, he tries snatching it out of your hand, “C’mon, why are you reading a book when you could be playing with me?!” 

Yes! You might be able to get out of this yet. If he thinks it’s a book, he definitely won’t try to read it and discover what it really is. “I like reading, Luffy. I just want to curl up with a good book once in a while,” as you’re saying this, you narrowly avoid letting it fall into his grabby hands, and slip it underneath yourself to sit on it.

He pouts and rests his face on his hands, still focused on the book, “Is it really that good that you want to read it more than hang out with me?”

You cringe a bit at how pointed the question was. There was no good answer here. Either you say no and he’ll immediately drag you off, or you say yes and run the risk of hurting his feelings. Then you’ll have to deal with a temper tantrum from him, and being admonished by the rest of the crew for being mean. “It’s not about it being better than hanging out with you, I can like doing more things you know.”

Luffy huffs at your indirect answer and begins tugging on the book again, “What’s it’s even about then?”

Oh shit. Um. Hm. Now you need to improvise. “It’s about,” you dart your eyes around looking for any inspiration to help you out. You’re in a plain room on a boat in the middle of the ocean, and of course the plot of literally every book you’ve ever read has completely vacated your brain.

You were apparently taking too long to tell him, so he just ripped it out from under you to investigate himself. “It can’t be that good if it’s that hard to explain. Why would you-” Luffy’s sentence died on his tongue as he opens it, right onto a picture of himself.

Panicking, you launch yourself onto his back in a desperate attempt to confiscate it, but he simply stretches his arms to keep it out of reach.

“This is awesome! Why didn’t you tell me you could draw so good?” Much to your chagrin, he starts flipping through it, now seeing sketches of the other members, too.

“Luffy! Give that back! I didn’t say you could look at that!” Blood rushed to your face from the embarrassment of being caught.

He peers over his shoulder at you, looking bewildered at your statement, “What’s the big deal? Don’t you want to share your talent?”

“No, I don’t! Just give it back and don’t tell anyone about it! Please!” You scrambled off the bed and leapt for the book, but he just snapped his arms back and continued the game of keep away.

You could see the gears turning in his head, trying to make sense of your words and actions. His eyes suddenly widened and he grinned as something clicked for him, “Oh I get it! You don’t know how good these are! You just need some help realizing it!” With that, he took off out of your room, sketchbook in hand.

“Get back here!” You sprinted after him, hoping you could get it back before he showed everyone, but deep down you knew it was already too late.

You were at a massive disadvantage here. Luffy was fast, especially when he had something he wasn’t supposed to. By the time you make it onto the deck, you’re horrified to see he’s already acquired an audience. Nami and Robin were seated at the table, with Sanji serving them some tea and snacks (which were currently being inhaled by Luffy while they were distracted by the book).

“You aren’t supposed to see that!” You hope that you’ll be able to get it out of Robin’s hands, but Luffy wraps one of his arms around you, leaving you immobilized at his side. Before you could beg them to please put it down, Luffy shoves a tiny cake into your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go back a page, I think I saw one of me!” Nami was pestering Robin and trying to get it to herself, but any attempts at grabbing it were thwarted by an arm sprouting from the table and swatting her hands away. 

“In a minute, Nami, I’ll let you see when I’m finished,” Robin was entirely unbothered by her pleas (and yours), choosing to casually flip through each and every page with a small smile on her face.

Sanji was looking over them, smiling at the artwork, and was the first to acknowledge that you were standing right there. “These are incredible, though I’m not surprised that you would be so talented~!”

The sweet and genuine compliment almost made you cave in to accepting the situation, but you dismissed it. Swallowing the cake, you can finally speak again, “Please stop looking at that, I don’t like people looking at my sketchbook!” Especially not when the people in question kidnapped you and are actively holding you hostage.

“Oh? Are you shy about it? How cute,” Robin teased.

“It’s not-” you were once again cut off by another cake being stuffed into your mouth.

“What are you guys all looking at?” Chopper was now approaching with Usopp not far behind. Great. Why not just let everyone see it! 

Robin flipped to a page with Chopper on it and showed it to him, “(Y/N), took the time to draw all of us, it seems.”

Chopper’s eyes sparkled at the drawing, and against all logic he was somehow blushing??? “Oh I don’t look all cutesy like that, you jerk!” His dopey smile easily contradicted his words.

“I didn’t know you were also an artist. You should have told me sooner, I could’ve been teaching you! I’ll have you know I’ve tutored many famous artists! In fact, this reminds me- You drew me too?!” Usopp’s tale is cut short when Robin shows him a sketch of himself. 

You finally stop struggling, instead choosing to flop against Luffy in defeat. What’s the point? Damn near everyone has already seen it, you’re sure Zoro will wander on over here soon enough anyways. 

Upon feeling you give up, Luffy lets go and looks very pleased with himself. He unceremoniously shoves the little remaining food into his mouth and runs off calling for Zoro while Sanji gives chase, scolding him for eating all the food.

You just stood there, not knowing what else you could do. With Luffy gone, everyone else was crowding around you, lavishing you with compliments and asking questions all at once. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer, all you could do was sulk as the last thing that you had just to yourself was taken away and thrown out into the open.

It was bound to happen eventually, you suppose.

[dolliethv]

All Of The Girls You Loved Before.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! I was thinking while listening to "All of the Girls You Loved Before" by Taylor Swift and decided to make a little story inspired by the lyrics...

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 2,1k

You are a fashion design and production student, sitting on the floor in front of your work table, adjusting the final details of a jacket inspired by the colors of the city where you and Jude were now living for work—Madrid. It was just another night, one of many you had spent in your new home, surrounded by fabrics, sketches, and the dim light of an old lamp that matched your overflowing creativity. Jude, your boyfriend, would be arriving after a tiring training session with Real Madrid.

The door opened softly, and Jude appeared with a smile that lit up the entire room. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, collapsing onto the couch with exhaustion written all over his face. You smiled. You loved the way he called you “baby,” as if it was more than just a word, a small refuge in the middle of your hectic lives.

He moved closer and sat beside you. You ran a hand through his damp hair. “How was training?” you asked.

Jude nodded, his eyes scanning the sketches scattered on the table. “Yeah, just exhausting, you know. But seeing you is the best part of my day.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed, recalling all those nights when he would tell you stories of his past. You knew that things hadn’t always been easy for Jude. He had gone through failed relationships, disappointments, and abrupt goodbyes. Sometimes, he would share how he stayed up late arguing on the phone, conversations ending in awkward silences.

Jude had faced criticism and pressure from a young age, not just in football. He remembered moments in Birmingham, when coaches pushed him to his limits and expectations felt like an impossible weight to bear. He had dealt with the disappointment of sitting on the bench when he was eager to prove his worth and with the hurtful comments on social media whenever his performance wasn’t perfect.

There were also times in Dortmund, far from his family and everything he knew, feeling lonely in a foreign city. The tough matches, where his mistakes haunted him for weeks, constant media criticism, and the feeling of not being enough had made him doubt himself more than once. “I remember when I got injured just before one of the most important matches of the season. I sat in the stands, watching my teammates fight while all I could think about was what I could have done differently. It was one of the worst feelings I’ve ever had,” Jude once confessed.

“Those moments made you strong, Jude,” you said, remembering how he had shared his journey of overcoming, learning to accept his failures as part of his path. “All of that taught you to value what you have, to never give up.”

Jude smiled wistfully. “It wasn’t easy, and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t go on. But when I finally played that crucial match, and we did well, all the effort, all those tears, were worth it. They made me see that even in the darkest moments, there’s something worth fighting for.”

You looked at him tenderly. “The way you call me ‘baby’… it makes me feel like all of it was worth it,” you said, gazing into his eyes. There was a strength and sweetness in Jude that could only come from someone who had known adversity and decided to be better, not in spite of you, but because of you.

Jude looked at you with gratitude and stroked your cheek. “I don’t know if it was worth it, but it brought me to you,” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

You smiled against his lips and turned back to your sketches, trying to concentrate, but the lyrics of a song kept resonating in your mind. “Have you ever thought about how all those girls and all those situations made you who you are?” you asked, drawing a loose line that, like your thoughts, wasn’t going anywhere in particular.

Jude pondered for a moment, recalling those days of smudged makeup and tears in club bathrooms, the goodbyes without explanations, and the awkward beginnings. “I never thought of it that way, but… yeah, I guess all of that brought me here. And now you’re all I need,” he said, taking your free hand.

“And I’m so grateful for that,” you responded. “Every dead end, every mistake… all of it brought you to me.”

Jude smiled and pulled you into his arms. “And you’re the only one who makes it all feel worth it.”

You snuggled into his chest, letting the warmth of the moment wrap around you. You knew that, although neither of you had a perfect past, everything had been a piece of that complex puzzle that had led you to find each other. You wanted to be the one to show him what “forever” feels like.

Jude, trying to distract you from your concentration, started joking. “You know, darling? If you were a fashion design, you’d be haute couture… because no one else could pull it off like you.” You looked at him, pretending to be surprised.

“Wow, Jude! Did you read that in a cheap pick-up line book?” you teased, holding back laughter. “You could use those tricks on the field to throw off your rivals.”

Jude pretended to think for a second. “Do you think that would work? Because it doesn’t seem to have any effect on you. Although maybe I just need a little more practice… with you,” he said, raising an eyebrow provocatively.

You looked at him, trying to keep a straight face. “You? Practice? I think you’ve got more than enough natural talent,” you joked, enjoying the playful banter between you. But Jude didn’t miss the chance, and with an intense look, he added, “Well, if you want, I can show you my ‘natural talent’ up close in a more private place and...”

“Jude!” you looked at him with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that so casually, you know?”

“Why not? I’m dead serious,” Jude replied with a cheeky smile, getting even closer, kissing your neck affectionately and caressing your stomach.

You gently pushed him away, trying to keep control, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “You know you’re a gentleman most of the time, but sometimes you go overboard.”

Jude pretended to be offended. “It’s ‘natural talent,’ baby. Besides, I’m just trying to be charming,” he said, striking an exaggeratedly elegant pose as if he were in a Louis Vuitton photoshoot or something.

“Well, at least you’re a good actor,” you responded, laughing. “But I’ll stick with the footballer.”

You cherished those light-hearted moments with Jude; it was one of the many reasons you adored him. But what you loved most about him was his chivalry, something that never ceased to amaze you. From day one, Jude had always treated you like a lady; he’d open the car door, hold your hand when crossing the street, and always made sure you felt protected and appreciated.

“Do you know what I love most about you?” you began, resting your head on his shoulder and smiling sweetly. “How much of a gentleman you are. You always treat me like a lady,” you said, squeezing his cheeks playfully. “That’s what I love most about you.”

Jude looked at you with a playful smile. “Well, what did you expect? You’re my princess. I’ve got to live up to that.”

You laughed, giving him a gentle tap on the arm. “How cutie! Who would have thought, a Real Madrid player who’s so dominant with an impressive aura in every match is a total sassy with his girlfriend.”

Jude shrugged and hugged you tighter. “You know I’d do anything for you, even be cheesier if it makes you happy.”

“That’s why I love you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “All of the girls you loved before, made you the one I've fallen for”

“And all the experiences you had made you the woman I love today,” Jude responded, kissing you with a softness that spoke of promises, of a future together, and of everything you both had to go through to reach this point.

The two of you stayed in silence, savoring the simple beauty of being together, knowing that every step you had taken in your lives, good and bad, had led you to this precise moment, in this little corner of the world where everything fit.

Because, in the end, every mistake, every lost love, and every broken dream had been a necessary part of the journey that had brought you here, one in the arms of the other, loving each other more than you ever could have imagined.

"I'm so thankful for all of the girls you loved before, but I love you more..."

[ggomos-maribat]

5 | in which Marinette Dupain-Cheng is behind schedule

Part 5 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Marinette's schedule had become a mess.

She went to the grocery store to do some late night shopping, but when she got to the fresh produce section, the place had fallen victim to a robbery. So there she was, cart positioned in front of her, leaning against the crates after the customers were all told to get down. She tapped on her knees restlessly—Gotham's vigilantes hadn't arrived yet.

If the robber is intercepted in forty minutes, I'll have fifteen minutes to finish shopping and fifteen more to fall in line and pay. Her face twisted into a frown. That's too much time off from work and sleep.

Marinette yawned and peeked through the aisles where the goons were yelling at the poor cashiers. Does it count as work time if I help the vigilante side of my boss? She wondered tiredly. She'd promised not to get too involved when such things happened (she had a cover to keep after all), but the interruption had become an annoyance.

Fine, if they're not here yet after ten minutes, I'm kicking those asses myself, she decided. She opted to scan her surroundings instead to save some time looking for items.

Finally, the sound of grappling guns whizzed in the air, followed by capes swishing. The Bats wasted no time introducing their fists to the criminals. Marinette rolled her eyes. Seriously, how'd they get the idea to rob a grocery store? It's too big of a space for a small group of robbers—anyone can run out and get some help—ooh, wait, is that half-priced lettuce?

Unfortunately for her, the vigilantes seemed to be taking a longer time rounding up all the robbers. She really really wanted to get the lettuce and go back to her apartment. A few more minutes passed and she made up her mind to transfer her items to a basket and crawl through the floor to continue shopping. If I can get to the self-checkout line, maybe I can still follow my schedule, thought Marinette.

She made her way between shelves, grabbing what she needed while laying low without a care in the world about the grunts and punches and kicks she was hearing. She got her precious lettuce, moved on to the frozen section for a while, and then back to the main aisles to fetch the seasonings she needed. Whenever she got a glimpse of Batman, she ducked out of he way, knowing that he'll fuss over her the next day if he found out that she was in the middle of the robbery.

Alas, she forgot to also pay attention to the other Bats. While she was on her knees, ground pepper in one hand, she looked up to see Robin who was staring at her in shock.

She stared back with a straight face.

"What are you doing? " Robin finally spoke.

"Shopping," she said, putting the pepper shaker in her basket.

"What—how—why now? "

Marinette settled for no more than one word. "Capitalism."

The boy cleared his throat, seemingly still puzzled by her actions. "Have you seen other robbers holding customers hostage around here?"

She distractedly pointed to the next aisle over and he took off.

***

Marinette thought she got the stabby Robin off her back, but he came up to her while she was in self-checkout after the robbers were all rounded and tied up.

"What are you doing?" The vigilante asked. "We need your statement first before you leave, miss."

When Marinette looked up, she saw a number of other patrons continuing their business . . . plus Batman speaking with the commissioner. Seriously, he couldn't have asked anyone else?

"What you did was dangerous. You could've been seen by them," Robin scolded.

"I was in a hurry. There was half priced lettuce." Marinette began to shove all the goods into multiple bags as fast as she could.

"You could've waited—"

"No, I couldn't." With a nod, Marinette took all the heavy bags into her arms and ran out of the store as fast as she could.

***

The company didn't require her to work late at night, obviously, but it became a habit for Marinette just like when she sketched before bed. It helped her set things in order for the next day and go over the details she needed to prepare. WE was by no means the perfect corporation and Bruce wasn't the perfect boss, but Marinette was content with her job, especially since it paid well.

She tucked her legs up her chair, reading the files under the yellow light. Yes, WE had its own faults—there were still supervisors from the Marketing Department who'd send interns on coffee runs instead of giving them actual work, and a few execs seemed keen on pocketing money for themselves. Though if she could pick out those issues one by one and bring them up to Bruce, it would be a good change in the workplace.

Meanwhile, as the girl focused on her work, a few vigilantes hung out outside of her window.

"Tt. Father, are you overworking Marinette?"

"What?"

"I found her in the store shopping while the robbers were still active." Robin crossed his arms. "When I asked she only said 'capitalism'."

". . . What?"

***

One office day, Tim decided to stretch and take a walk outside his office for a break. He wandered into the copy room, where he saw Marinette waiting by the printer. He was a little sleepy by that time, but managed to greet her with a quick 'hello' which she reciprocated, followed by: "Do you need anything, Mr. Drake?"

He yawned. "No thanks."

He'd say he needed coffee but he knew Bruce banned him from consuming any more for the week.

After the copy room, he then went to the break room where he found Marinette again. This time, she handed him a cup of what looked like decaf, freshly prepared. "Uh." He squinted at her. "Weren't you just . . ."

"Hmm?"

"You were just . . ." He pointed towards the direction he came from. "Nevermind."

Maybe he was starting to hallucinate.

Not wanting to decline the drink, he took a seat and began taking small sips. He idly watched Marinette heat up pastries for snacks, probably for Bruce. A few minutes ticked by and he excused himself to go to the toilet.

. . . Where he saw Marinette coming out of the ladies' room.

"Weren't—" he sputtered. "You—you were just in the break room! I left you there!"

Marinette's smile appeared forced, but concerned. "No, I wasn't . . .?"

"You were!"

". . . Perhaps you should get some sleep, Mr. Drake," Marinette advised.

"No, I swear! You were there!"

She gave yet another worried smile and went off towards the elevator. Tim shook his head as he went to the bathroom. Had he lost his mind after all? He finished his business quickly and hurried back to his office to gather his thoughts.

But as he passed by Bruce's office he caught someone going out the door.

Someone by the name of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

"Didn't you go downstairs?!" He exclaimed, wide-eyed. This particular Marinette seemed surprised by his outburst.

"Sorry?"

"You went to the elevator!"

"No, I was here." She raised an eyebrow. "In Mr. Wayne's office."

He grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her. " What are you?!"

He was sure he saw her disappear through the sliding doors. He was certain it was her who was in the break room, and outside the bathroom, and inside the copy room. He didn't stop mumbling nonsense until a curse-spouting, stressed Tamara Fox dragged him away from the confused Marinette.

.

.

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What the poor Tim Drake didn't know unfortunately, was that Marinette strived to meet deadlines every day. And when schedules were tight, she simply couldn't do all her tasks by herself.

So, occasionally, the assistant would pull off a little Hermione Granger and employ the help of a certain time-traveling Miraculous to be in several places at once.

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Fic Masterlist

Because Tumblr search features are shit. Fandoms, Fics, and Series are organized in alphabetical order. Each link will send you to the Tumblr version but there will be a link to the AO3 version within that post. If you would rather go straight to AO3, my account is linked in the post pinned on my blog.

Assassin's Creed:

Of Blades and Parchment Series

Tumblr tag: #Of Blades and Parchment

Altmal AU where Malik never became an assassin and instead works as a crippled bookseller. Series is in progress.

DPxDC

Two Crickets (My addition is only 646 words but idk about the ones before it)

no tag

An addition to a prompt by @/ailithnight and writing by @/omnicrafts and @/atiyasnake

The GIW has had Danny for an undeterminable amount of time. The strain is finally more than he can handle and he body hops into a brain dead clone, R13. Danny thinks he is having a nice dream. Kon is worried for the escaped clone he found in the middle of a field.

TW: mentions of tortue

Here's Where You'll Stay (3082 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #Here's Where You'll Stay

"As John stared at the door preparing to get his face mauled, he couldn’t help but incredulously complain that this was not how he wanted his weekend to go. He had plans! He supposes that he would be willing to put them on hold for Phantom’s sake, but he wasn’t agreeable to the incoming face mauling. "

When Phantom comes down with Core Sickness it's up to John Constantine to save the ghost from fading.

Nothing Says "True Love" Like Being Given The Soul of Your Murderer (1510 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #nstllbgtsoym

Dead on Main ship. Addition to a post by @/nelkcats

"Another snarl caused him to lose his staring contest with the Bat. Nightwing was now standing between the two of them and appeared to be trying to placate the crime boss while Red Robin made the bloody stupid decision of trying to sneak up behind him. Red quickly paid the price for his folly, finding himself flat on his back pinned underneath Hood's boot while he honest to God snapped at Nightwing like a rabid dog.

"It's my gift! He gave it to me. Now fuck off before I m̶a̷k̸e̸ ̵y̶o̸u̶."

Yeah. Someone should probably interfere before they pissed him off anymore.

"You should corral your kids before one of em' loses a hand."

"Hngh." Batman leaves to break up the fight with Nightwing's aid. Hood scampers off to one of the corners of the cave, cradling the violet ball in his gloved hands as if it was the most precious thing in the world. It sounded like he was purring. John was suddenly very tired."

Rending Flesh From the Bone (3093 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #RFFTB

Dick wasn't so sure about Jason's "gut feeling", but what are brothers for if not to support each other during paranoia episodes? Now, deep underground in an abandoned subway tunnel, Dick is starting to have regrets as he watches the scene before him.

TW: Gore, Cannibalism, Vomiting, Zalgo Text

Slap a Bow on It (4752 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #Slap a Bow on It

Dead on Main ship, written for Dead on MAYn 2024

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

sketch of Danny's courting gift

Star Shoes (2772 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #Star Shoes

Dead on Main ship, written for Dead on MAYn 2024

"Things had been going so well for him lately. He should have expected the other shoe to drop. Or the metal pipe in this case."

In which Danny and his totally normal boyfriend who is definitely not Red Hood are abducted by cultists. Danny is super concussed, but he's got the spirit.

The Dead Stay Dead (My addition is only 679 words but idk about the ones before it)

no tag

An addition to writing by @/some-kind-of-creature and @/nerdpoe.

In which the LOA has a rule that those who die are never mentioned again and are erased from their records. Damian doesn't think to mention his late sister. Once he does he creates a portrait to commemorate her, but it turns out his sister is actually his brother now.

The Double-edged Blade of Chance (5309 words, 1 chapter)

Tumblr Tag: #The Double-edged Blade of Chance

Dead on Main ship, written for Dead on MAYn 2024

Not everyone gets to meet their soulmate. It was just a fact of life. There was always a chance, but chance was a double-edged blade. 

Jason quite literally runs into his soulmate at the young age of eight.

“Sorry! I thought you were a ghost!”

"Why would I be a ghost?”

TW: Major Character Death, Child Neglect, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Depression

Unnamed fic (ghost chirps/unintentional ghost adoption au fic)

Tumblr Tag: #ghost chirps/unintentional ghost adoption au fic

Addition to a post by @/starwrighter

Fic is currently a work in progress with only a minimal amount released to the public under the Tumblr post. Once it's completely written chapters will be posted and linked independently.

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ The harsh daily life - Welcome to Aurora ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Part 4 - The harsh daily life

Summary : Finally having found the perfect job for you on the ship, a new mistery arose. The name of a mysterious woman slipping past the sleeping captains lips.

Pairing : Pirate! Hongjoong x Fem! Reader

Word count : 1883 Words

Genre : Genre : Fluff, Romance, Slow Burn

Warnings ➵ None??

a/n : Still so sorry for not posting this last week! Just been rly caught of with my exam this week and also just overall being stressed by school! I'll tr to write next 2 or 3 chapters this weekend tho so I got a lil puffer for the next weeks!♡

《 Masterlist 》

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Your day wasn't over after the quick meal you had with Wooyoung and Seonghwa. Right now you were sitting in the crows nest with Wooyoung, him explaining his job to you, you were quit glad that you were with Wooyoung right now and didn't had to train with Jongho again.

"I'm glad that you decided to tag along with us, it's gonna be a lot of fun." You were just as glad as Wooyoung, was he the one you should be the most thankful to, he was the one to help you stay on this ship, with this crew.

"What did you want to tell me while we were eating? About the captain?" Curiosity getting the better of you like always, now looking at Wooyoung who shifts a bit uncomfortably by your question. "I can't tell you, Seonghwa was right, it's Hongjoongs secret, either he tells you himself or you won't know, I'm sorry." His answer made you pout slightly but you could also understand, you probably wouldn't want your secrets spilled out to everyone either. "It's okay, maybe I will know someday." Looking out of the crows nest again, you look to the horizon where the sea meets the sky. It's still not late, maybe the middle of the day, the sun was standing high above the two of you, making it quit hot up in the crows nest.

"Hey Wooyoung! Mind giving away the princess for a bit?" Mingis voice was heard suddenly, looking up at the two of you with a smile on his face. "Sure! See you later." Wooyoung tells you, as you make your way town carefully, Mingi still staying at the bottom of the net, in case you needed help or need to be caught im case you slipped. "Thank you for agreeing to helping me, I really need the help. You can read right?" Mingi asks, following him into the captains cabin, Hongjoong not in sight. With a yes to his question, Mingi gets out a box from a cabinet and pulls up a second chair. "I'm in charge of keeping the maps organised and also having a protocol of the kingdoms and islands we visited by now." Mingi explains, sitting down on Hongjoongs chair, he probably did this in his room, as it had the biggest desk and also wouldn't have any disturbances. "You can sort the maps alphabetical for now." Mingi explains, getting out a pencil to start drawing on the map, probably adding islands they recently discovered.

Now sorting the maps, you sometimes look at the few books on the desk, on each one of them was written the word 'Ateez' and Aurora, looking up at Mingi now you speak up again, : "On the books, the word Ateez, what is that?" Immediately after finishing your sentence Mingi let's out a chuckle, laying down his pencil. "You are currently on the ship Aurora with the crew Ateez, Ateez is our Crew name." Mingi explains to you, before going back to sketching the map.

After a while the door opens and closes, in walks the captain, taking of his coat and hat and laying down on his bed, eyeing the two of you.

"Is she good help Mingi?" The captain speaks up now, closing his eyes, your eyes stay fixated on the maps you were sorting though. "Definitely, it was getting a bit to much for myself, so I'm glad for her help." He praises you, making a smile appear on your face. "I see, well don't be to loud please, I want to take a nap." Putting his hat over his face now, the captain trys to fall asleep, while you and Mingi go on with your work.

After probably two hours you and Mingi finished, standing up and leaving the room carefully so you won't wake up the captain.

"You seem to get along with everyone quit fine, it's nice to see that you're getting used to being on here." Mingi talks while walking around the deck with you, nodding when someone greets the both of you. "Everyone is quit nice, so it's really easy to adapt to the crew and get used to them." A nod was seen from Mingi as you two continue your little stroll along the ship. "Just wishing everyone would start to call me by my name, Y/N, and not princess, I'm not a princess anymore." Explaining this to Mingi, he send a sympathetic glance towards you. "You just have to tell us and we will gladly call you that Y/N." A relieved sigh leaves your lips, hoping that all of them would call you that soon.

"But you can't expect all of us to call you that, you're the princess of our crew now, isn't that right Wooyoung?" San smirks, while approaching you and Mingi, Wooyoung following and speaking up now, : "You're right, she'll stay the princess of this ship." Rolling your eyes slightly, you still couldn't suppress a laugh. "That's okay then, as long as you two still know my name." Now it was the turn of the two man to laugh, telling you they would never forget your name ever.

After talking with the three man a while, Seonghwa soon approaches you with two plates in his hands, by now the sun was starting to go down, painting the sky and sea in a beautiful orange and pink sky.

"You should eat enough, tomorrow the training will continue." Handing you the plate, Seonghwa sits down on the railing, followed by you.

"San told me about a few of the memebers, how long have the others been here?" Seonghwa looks your way now, laying his fork down on his plate. "Me and Hongjoong started this, a small boat, we ran away from our homes and never returned. Yunho joined us shortly after that, a few other man joining too, the ship always getting bigger to have more place. Yeosang and Wooyoung joined us together, we found them stranded on an island, no one knowing where they're from or who their family is. San is a runaway, like me and Hongjoong, that's why we took him in, we saw ourselves in him. Mingi joined shortly after him, his father was a knight, but he didn't want to live that life, so he joined us. Jongho has been here the shortest, he sneaked onto our ship one night and the next after we sat sail we found him, Hongjoong was mad I tell you, but after noticing his abilitys he made him part of the main crew quickly." Glancing at you a few times, you take the information in. It was quit a lot of information to take in.

"It's a lot of information I know, but everyone on this ship has their own story, past and secrets." At the word secrets you had to think back to Hongjoong, what secret did Wooyoung want to tell you.

"Eat up, the captain want's to have a little talk with you." Bidding his goodbye, Seonghwa takes his now empty plate and walks away, probably to bring it into the kitchen.

You finished quickly, bringing your plate away and making your way to the captains cabin, knocking once and then twice. It was quiet. So you slowly opened the door, walking in and closing the door again.

Hongjoong was layed on his bed, his hat still over his face, his right leg over the other one. Walking closer, you ask yourself if the captain was sleeping or awake and already noticed you.

Reaching out a hand hesitatingly, you take of the hat and to your surprise, was the captain still asleep. His eyes closes, just now did you notice his long lashes, his face for once looked soft and relaxed, much different to the either scowling or smirking face. Placing the hat on his desk, you walk over to him again reaching out again to wake him up, but stopping midway, as a word or more like, a name slips past his lips.

Jiwon

Confused you now place your hand on the captains shoulder, shaking him awake slightly. Said man opens his eyes and looks up at you, as he sits up with a groan and stretches his arms out.

"Seonghwa said you wanted to talk to me." You explain why you were disturbing the captains sleep, the female name however still on your mind. "Ah yes, I wanted to see how you're holding up, Mingi praised you a lot today and even Yunho was pleased with how fast you are learning." His voice sounded rough from sleep, as he now sits at the edge of his bed and starts putting on his boots again. "Ah I'm just glad and happy that I can be of help on this ship." Hongjoong glances your way shortly, before continuing to tie his boots. "You will be helping Mingi from now on, study our books and read some others too, you're one of the few people that can read, we need every help that we can get with the books." He now stands up, stretching again. You just agree and are now send out again, still wanting to know who that name belonged to and the best person to ask was Wooyoung.

Making your way over to the quarter deck where Wooyoung was leaning on the railing, talking to San.

"Wooyoung! Can I talk to you for a moment?" He send you a nod, guiding you further to the back of the quarter deck, asking you what you wanted to talk about.

"I have a question about the ship, did you ever have a woman called Jiwon on board?" As soon as Wooyoung heard that name, he went pale, looking around. "Where did you hear that name? No one is even allowed to mention that name!" Speaking in a hushed tone now, Wooyoung looks at you with furrowed brows and a serious look on his face. "Hongjoong was talking in his sleep when I wanted to wake him up." A slightly scared look on your face now, caused by his reaction. "Okay, you're not allowed to speak to anyone about that name do you understand me? No one. Tell no one that you heard that name, especially not the captain, got that?" Wooyoung makes sure to make you promise you this, which you did.

Of course his reaction to that name made the question mark in your head just grow bigger.

Who was that woman? Was she a crew member? Was the captain close to her? Where was she now?

Walking away from a visibly disturbed Wooyoung, you make your way to your room, a lot of the people already under the deck sleeping. Upon arriving in the room, you start to change into the dress shirt from Seonghwa again and lay down on the bed, facing the ceiling again, which was painted a night blue and had lots of stars painted on there.

This crew may be your new family, but you still didn't get a lot of their doings or opinions.

The most questionable one was definitely Hongjoong, followed by Jongho, even Wooyoung seemed weird after the last talk you had with him not long ago. Maybe you should just ignore and forget it for now, sooner or later you'll probably hear and understand their motives.

[dropoutfailure]

Would absolutely love to hear more about mishka and gus? Like anything really. Maybe you could explain the timeline of how their story happens (i love that kind of thing) or just tell me something you find interesting about them or just ramble whats on your mind?

I'm excited to answer, but are YOU excited for the wall of text you're about to see?? I probably overthought and revised this answer for way too long. these OCs have wayyyy too much lore and backstory which I might draw at some point. eventually.

backstory in short:

Mishka is a 22yo depressed lonely college dropout NEET trans guy. he's in love with his dad, bc he can't connect to new people easily, and his dad's the only one who has just always been there for him, unconditionally.

his 45yo dad Gustav is a woodworking teacher. a single father who's doing his best. caring, and maybe even lenient with his precious son. he does not reciprocate though. at first.

backstory in long:

so basically Mishka was doomed from the start. his mom was not good at being a mother (violent) and gave him childhood trauma. she left eventually, and dad became a single father when Mishka was 7-9. he comes out as a trans boy in his teens, 14-15. his dad is accepting but his school is not. he makes no permanent connections in 12 years of being in school. just internet friends.

Mishka drops out of college at 22 because of many problems piling up there (adhd, loneliness, misunderstandings, transphobia) and overwhelming him for months. he breaks down in the middle of his last year of undergraduate (he probably could've weathered the storm and finished...), gives up, drops out, goes home and holes up in his room, in his dad's apartment...

Mishka developed a crush on his dad while halfway through college, at around 21 yeard old, but thought he'd get over it and not feel that way anymore when he got back home. lol. lmao.

when dad hugs him after he gets off the train, that notion quickly disappears.

at first he tries to hide it. he doesn't want his dad to hate him. Gustav is happy to see him again, and can tell something's bothering his son, but can never get a straightforward answer. he's worried.

confession scene comic drafts:

eventually, after a month of being back home, Mishka says "fuck it, I've already fucked up my life, I'm already a social outcast, I'm already a garbagefire, I have nothing to lose, I'll tell my dad and either he feels the same or he disowns me!!"

(here, I'll add some sketches I've made for the confession scene. amongst other sketches.)

Mishka confesses kinda hopeful (delusional) that maybe his dad might feel the same.

...but dad does NOT feel the same... he takes some time to process what he just heard.

Mishka is red in the face, sweating, panicking, tearing up bc this is humiliating and painfully awkward and he "should not have told him, should have taken it to the grave!! fuuuuuck"

Gustav is confused and concerned. it doesn't register until he asks again and Mishka's like "this is humiliating enough, don't make me say it again...."

(I need to work out the dialogue here I think..... Gus doesn't disown him, he's extremely uncomfortable with the idea, but ALSO doesn't want to reject Mishka!! he's at a loss and doesn't know how to respond so he's like "it's late, I need some time to think, let's talk about this tomorrow")

he loves his son. but not like that.

(extra long post and more sketches under the Keep Reading)

and then there's an awkward moment / fake-out where Mishka may or may not have been aiming for a kiss. dad turns that down real fast though, uncomfortable. Mishka fears this may have just caused a permanent rift between them, that they can never be affectionate again, and begs him to forget the whole thing.

Gustav can tell that Mishka's gonna be agonizing over this (oh, Gus is too. but doesn't want to double the panic here*) and tells his son to not hurt himself. (Mishka tends to pull at his hair and scratch his skin up to release emotion)

*main things on Gustav's mind: since he's a teacher, he would not only get fired, but hunted for sport if he was actually in an illicit relationship with his son, so he really doesn't want to even entertain the idea. especially since he already feels like he's on thin ice at his workplace - he's good at his job, but it's an open secret that he's "gay" (he's not even gay, he's bi!!)

they retreat to their rooms to turn in for the night. Mishka writes to his bestie Kaito who's the only one he talks to about his feelings for his dad (strangers on the internet and people who took his incest vagueposting as a joke don't count haha).

Gus looks to the internet for any advice on this situation he never expected to be in as a father. "wtf do I do when my own flesh and blood, my own son, half my age, is in love with me, romantically? and maybe sexually?? how do I turn him down without hurting his feelings" he somehow phrases it in such a way that he mostly gets porn results, which is the opposite of what he's looking for! XD it's a very popular porn category and that makes him feel even worse.

here's another WIP I'm trying to work on about this scene. the confession, plus a moment when Gus remembers fearing homophobia in his teen years, but confessing to a classmate regardless (he's bi but most people assume he's either gay or straight)... and immediately shuts it down, thinking to himself "wait that's not even remotely the same thing!! s-some things are societally unacceptable with good reason!"

I'm just trying to work out the dialogue more, to better show Gustav's confusion, apprehension, empathy and an attempt at a gentle rejection.

afterward, they try to go on as normal but now that it's out there, Mishka gets bolder with his affection. and gets reprimanded. occasionally. Gustav's body welcomes the touch, but Gus himself is not happy with this for a multitude of reasons!!!! it's ok, he gets over his incest aversion. he may have felt some sort of way about Mishka's scruffy facial hair and deeper voice when he saw him again for the first time in half a year, but chalked it up to aesthetic appreciation? "what the hell, my son's grown so much... he's so cute... uh, objectively."

they got some mutual desperation and loneliness going on, they're perfect for each other.

I like this fragile and uncertain time in their life and relationship the most so I draw it the most. guilty and hesitant indulgence in forbidden fruit... typical will-they-wont-they situation. but it's like they-probably-shouldnt. but they will.

thanks for asking!! 💘 hope this has been an interesting read. glad you like my characters. :) if this caused more questions than answers, feel free to ask more about them!

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i feel so high school (au) pt. 6.A: piarles

anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle

(based on american high school setups cause of the song)

photographer!charles and motocross!pierre: pierre knows how to ball, charles knows aristotle. they’ve known each other since they were kids, lived on the same street, in fact neither of them can remember a time before the other was in their lives. it’s a small, folksy-looking town right on the edge of a national park, so not only is it surrounded by forests and mountains but it’s pretty cut off from “the outside world”. no nearby amusement parks or sports stadiums, if you want to have fun there and you’re a kid your playground is the Great Outdoors. that’s where young charles and pierre have their best memories together. they’d go exploring on nearly-forgotten hiking trails, form their own trails when they discovered a cave or a spring or a waterfall or somewhere they liked to go back to. pierre was better at climbing rocks but charles was way better at climbing trees, and they were definitely way too competitive at stone skipping considering they were both egregiously lenient about what constituted a “full skip”. they went camping every summer, tried to go stargazing and ended up making their own constellations, just two kids and nature.

it changed a little bit around middle school. their hometown had an elementary but that’s it so all the kids in that age group had to take the bus to the next town over for the next two schools. that town wasn’t really any more urban, but it was definitely bigger and being surrounded by so many new people threw a wrench into everyone’s social life. it was practically a rite of passage. pierre starts to drift away from charles in the first place because he finally meets some other kids who ride dirt bikes. he and charles both have one and while he was constantly trying to get charles to join him, charles would pretty much always say no and pierre would begrudgingly agree; now he’s got friends who will actually go riding with him and he’s elated. it doesn’t seem like such a big deal but he starts spending more and more time with them, especially after school, and ends up taking a different bus home because he stays in that town later. charles gets a little worried and tries to approach him about it, like hey why are you hanging out with those rough-looking kids? why are you out so late i thought you had a curfew? and even though he means well pierre feels increasingly like charles is trying to mother him and being overbearing and even a little possessive (although this last one is closer to the truth).

so they grow apart, only charles has spent so long with pierre that he never really made other friends and he’s left a little stranded. instead of taking the ambitious risk of trying to find new people he gets really invested in various hobbies, trying to disappear into his mind and feel less alone. he goes through half a dozen crafty activities (songwriting, sketching, any musical instrument he can find in a tourist shop) until he gets a camera for his birthday and that’s something he can finally connect with. that’s one of the last moments he spends with pierre when he could still consider them “friends”, bringing pierre along on this really tall hiking trail so he can get the optimal viewpoint and pierre hasn’t seen charles with this much wonder and excitement in his eyes in so long and when charles is taking his picture pierre feels suddenly bashful like he doesn’t deserve that much attention, doesn’t deserve to be treated like an art piece… and if there was any one moment the two of them could have realized what was really going on between them that would’ve been it but do either of them do even a little bit of self-reflection? noooo

they graduate to high school and if charles thought anything would change he’s wrong, but maybe things are starting to look up for him a bit. by now he’s coming around to the fact that he’s definitely not straight, even though that hadn’t even been a possibility only a few years ago he’s a teenager and he’s old enough to start having certain thoughts about certain people. if he and pierre were still super close maybe he would’ve been able to take more notice of his own complex feelings, but as it is it’s a lot of fleeting infatuation and half-formed lust around boys who barely know he exists. that changes when he meets carlos and lando, two guys in his year; they’re friends because they’ve both moved recently from much bigger cities and don’t have a lot in common with the small-town park ranger crowd. they also don’t know charles’s somewhat loser status so they kind of take him in, and he’s just so relieved to have friends that he doesn’t really question whether carlos looks at him a little too long sometimes or tries to get him alone an awful lot. in fact he finds he rather likes the attention. the three of them fall into this sort of little-too-close rhythm where the lines between friendliness and flirting are so blurred they might as well not even be there.

pierre, on the other hand, has kind of gone down the opposite path. when high school started he got a motor bike for the first time and as soon as he felt that level of speed and adrenaline he was pretty much addicted. the group of guys he runs with have mostly gotten their own bikes aw well and it’s not long before a few of them start to compete, there are actually trails nearby in dried out lake beds and such and he finds that even as an amateur he’s got serious talent. that starts to be his dream, to be a pro athlete, and that journey starts early. between races and sponsorship events and basically joyrides, charles pretty much never sees him. but they’ve got something major in common now.

(pt. 2)

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4

Summary:

wc: 1k+

A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)

prev. next

Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)

The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.

"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.

"No problem, Ms. Keene!"

By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.

The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.

"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.

You tilted your head in surprise.

"Hey, you in trouble or something?"

Miles shook his head.

"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."

"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.

"Kinda."

She clasped her manicured hands together. 

"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.

"And put on those glasses!"

Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.

"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.

"Don't need 'em."

"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."

He scoffed.

"Easy, it's…"

The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.

"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"

"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”

Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”

“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”

“Nope.”

“Just this once!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Please?”

The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.

“Happy?”

Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.

“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”

“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.

“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”

He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.

“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.

“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”

Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.

“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”

“My fault, bro, damn.”

Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.

The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.

“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”

He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.

“Sure.”

You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.

“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation. 

Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.

“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”

You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”

-

“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.

“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”

You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.

“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands. 

“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”

“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.

“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”

“Not on my bed, I hope.”

The boy gave you a warning glance.

“Relax, you see me sitting?” 

You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.

“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”

“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.

Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.

“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”

“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.

“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”

He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”

It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.

“Can you play some music?” 

Miles spun around in his swivel chair.

“What kind?”

“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”

“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”

He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.

Old jazz music began to float through the air.

“You like Ella?”

“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”

“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”

Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.

“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”

This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.

“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”

“I like how you talk.”

You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.

“‘How I talk?’”

“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”

Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.

“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.

There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”

“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”

He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.

“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.

“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”

“They let you listen to music down there?”

“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”

“You still sit by yourself?”

Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”

“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.

You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”

“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”

“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”

“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”

“That was a moment?”

“Nope, forget everything I just said.”

-

Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!

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[circle--of--confusion]

The Cardinal and the Seamstress

The next chapter is here, folks! I had fun while writing this, hopefully you enjoy reading it.

Chapter Summary: It's the first fitting! We get a special visitor. The Clergy is also restless for news on the Ghost project. Sarah and Copia share a sweet moment towards the end.

I hope you enjoy! I have been listening to "The Walk Home" by Young the Giant while writing this. I feel like it's a fitting song for this story. Give it a listen! Either the studio version or the acoustic version is great.

Pairing: (dracopia) Cardinal Copia x OC

Warnings: suggestive dialogue

Words: 2.5k

Chapter 2 - Quite a Scene? Wasn't it?

| ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE |

Read on AO3

MASTERLIST

banner and dividers courtesy of: gothdaddyissues AND ghuleh-recs

The following two days after the Cardinal’s measurements were taken are spent sketching, cutting paper, and working on mockups for Copia’s new show wardrobe. After the pattern pieces are drawn, Sarah gets started on cutting the mockups. She’s tasked with sewing the pants while Amelia tackles the jacket. In a couple more days Copia will come back for another fitting. In the words of Amelia, these costumes need to be ‘perfect for even the Olde One’s taste.’ We’re going to be here a while; Sarah thinks to herself. There still hasn’t been word of the new Ghost frontman. Siblings whisper in the hallways and at meal times with each other on who they think the next man up will be.

All day Sarah toils away at the contoured seams of his pants. Since learning of Copia’s condition, her dreams have become infiltrated with the image of a sharp-toothed Cardinal Copia. He hasn’t been able to leave her mind, she finds herself drifting off at the machine from time to time. So many questions run through her head.

It can’t be a crush. I’ve barely spoken with him! Sarah tries to rationalize is all. I’m just… curious. Curious about the whole thing. How often do you meet a real, live, well not live, vampire? In her stupor she manages to get through the line of stitching without jamming her finger under the needle. The actual stitching, however. “Oh damn. Where did I put my seam ripper?”

She saw him in the hallways while walking back to the studio after lunch on the day before the first fitting. Their eyes met and they stopped to chat while in the middle of the hall.

“Good afternoon, Cardinal.” Sarah said.

“Good afternoon, sorella. I hope Sister Amelia hasn’t been working you too hard on the new suits?” Copia looks into her eyes sincerely.

“Oh, are you familiar with “The Gauntlet?” Cardinal?” She chuckles.

Copia’s eyebrows raise. “Ehe I haven’t ever heard it put in that.. particular way but I’ve heard that new assistants tend to be put through the ringer. “

“The ringer, the gauntlet, either way, I feel like I’m doing fine for now, ha!” She shifts her feet a couple times. “Only time will tell.” Subject change, now! “So Cardinal, I heard that you are uh… Uh.”

Copia’s eyes find someone in the distance. “Oh, I’m late for a meeting sorella. Mi dispiace.” He begins to walk past her but stops to turn around to look back at Sarah. “We should continue our talk, still? Sometime later.”

“Yes! That sounds great.” And with that, hes gone. Why am I being so weird?

The morning of the first fitting, Sarah wakes up with a bundle of anxiety in her stomach. She keeps dreaming of Copia. He’s invaded her thoughts in both the dreaming and waking world now. While Sarah is getting ready for the day, the only thing on her mind is hoping the pants she made don’t burst at the seams when Copia moves around. Amelia’s new concept is a very new and bold step forward. The door to the studio is already unlocked, Amelia the likely answer. Amelia looks up from the ironing board as Sarah walks in.

“Sarah! Are you excited? It’s the first fitting! I always get a bit giddy, like a kid on Christmas.” She sets down her iron to move the garment around. “Except, instead of unwrapping something, I get to wrap someone up!” She clasps her hands together and grins.

It’s infectious and Sarah smiles in return. Some of her anxieties melt away in genuine excitement. She’s right. Sarah always found joy in seeing the look on someone’s face when she would make something for them. It would feel so rewarding to see them strut around in the thing she made! It’s like the physical manifestation of caring about someone.

Copia is a couple minutes from reaching the sewing studio but his mind is elsewhere. He wonders when the rest of the clergy will find out about Copia and the Ghost project. Will the siblings approve? Papa Terzo was well loved, maybe too well loved, amongst the Siblings of Sin. Would they feel the same about Copia?

The fitting is under way, about 30 minutes in, when the old devil himself walks into the room.

“My sweet Sisters! Cardinale! How is everyone doing this morning!” Terzo asks. There is a chorus of ‘hello Papa’s back to him as he enters the room. “Oh! A new suit, Copia? Any special reason?” he asks.

Copia’s face jerks to Amelia and Sarah. A silent plea for help in his eyes.

“Papa,” Amelia starts. “Is there ever a reason? Change is… inevitable.”

Terzo notices Copia’s deer-in-headlights look and holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I kid! I know about the Cardinal and the Ghost project. It was my idea for the dramatic exit.” Terzo has a cheshire-like smile

The sounds of a collective sigh falls over the room.

“Oh, thank Lucifer for that!” Amelia turns to Copia. “Cardinal, please to put on the pants Sarah put together in your dressing room. It’s the last thing I need to see for the day.”

Copia nods and walks off to change. The sounds of the curtain swinging open then closed. A few minutes pass in silence then he calls from behind the curtain. “Sister… per favore, did you give me the wrong pants by any chance?”

Sarah’s head pops up and Amelia walks over to the changing area and goes to open the curtain. Copia fumbles in front of her to prevent it from revealing himself. “Copia! Cardinal! Let me-“

Copia is struggling in vain to keep his privacy. “Please pay no attention to the vampire behind the curtain!” He screams.

Sarah watches on in horror. Her hands cover her face.

Copia walks out from behind the curtain to see Amelia, Sarah and Papa Terzo staring at him. “I could zip them up but they are uh… a bit tight. I don’t think I’ll be able to wear underwear in these.”

Sathanas, you can see everything.

“Oh Sarah, you should be proud. The ritual attendees are going to eat him up!” Terzo turns to her. He strides over to Amelia and takes her hand. “Bella why couldn’t you have made anything like this for me for my shows? They are… inspired.” He waves his hand around.

Amelia rolls her eyes. “Oh please! We both wouldn’t have lasted 10 minutes into a fitting.” She walks forward to inspect the mockup but Terzo follows after her. “Copia, could you walk around and see how the pants feel on?”

Terzo scoffs. “Cara, I wouldn’t even need 10 minutes! It would take me less than 5 before I would’ve had you ripping them off me.” Terzo gives her an eyebrow wiggle.

“I’m trying to focus here, Terzo. Papa. And if you don’t stop right now, I will shove some scrap fabric into your mouth and tie you up with my tape measure! Then I might actually be able do my job.”

“Amore! Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Terzo smiles wide.

 Sarah looks to the Cardinal with wide eyes, they both share a look across the room.

Amelia sighs at Terzo. “Oh, look what you’ve done. You’ve scared the children”

Copia turns around but is now facing the mirror, the mirror that is showing his reflection back. There’s more frantic turning and he eventually stops. Copia looks up in frustration. He breathes a silent “shit.”

“Mi dispiace. I will leave you now so you can get back to your hard” he looks at Copia. “work.” He looks back to Amelia.

After Papa leaves, Sarah breaks the silence with “The pants do look a bit tight.”

“You people are no fun!”

Amelia spends some time marking on the suit pieces while Copia models them. Half an hour later the suit pieces are back on their hangers with notes pinned to the fabric for the next mockup. Amelia assures Copia that she’ll add some ease to his pants. He leaves the studio and on the way back to his office he passes by a few siblings of sin who seem to have strange looks on their faces.

Sarah and Alex make their way to the dining hall for dinner. They’ve developed a good rhythm in the past week of finishing up their work and then going together for food at the end of the day; the both of them are exhausted by the whirlwind Amelia in the throes of a big project. They're midway into a conversation at their table when a couple siblings of sin rush up to them.

“Oh! Sister Hannah-?”

“Is it true?” a girl huffs. “The person who will take Papa’s place in the Ghost Project? It’s the Cardinal?”

Sarah’s eyes go wide. Alex’s head whips to the girl. “Where did you hear that?”

“Is it true? Sister Ashley heard it from brother Michael, who got a text from my girlfriend who was walking down the hall by the sewing department when she overheard Papa Terzo say something about Rituals and the Cardinal Copia was there with him!” Hannah rambles.

By now other siblings have caught on to the commotion and have hushed their conversations. All eyes are on Sarah and Alex. Some of them start asking questions of their own.

“Do you know?”

“You have to know since you were there, right?”

“Did Papa Terzo say the Cardinal would be the next Papa?”

“Aw! Terzo is so much sexier!”

Sarah snaps her head towards that last one. Her eyes scan the crowd and she spies the subject of their concerns slowly trying to make his way out of the hall by side-stepping slowly against the wall. A few turn and stand to follow her line of sight and now yell towards Copia. All Sarah can see is a flash of red fabric making a hurried exit down the halls.

A voice calls out to the clergy. “Everyone! Please settle down! Settle down!” It’s Papa Terzo’s voice. “You will all find out who the next leader of the Ghost project will be in due time. Have patience, per favore!” Papa’s words help some of the commotion die down and the siblings move to sit back at their tables. It’s a lot quieter in the dining hall but Sarah feels several dozen pairs of eyes looking towards her. The scraping sound of her chair pierces through the massive room as she stands to put up her dinner items and walk back to her room for the rest of the night. The sounds of her shoes against the tile echo painfully behind her.

Several hours have passed and Sarah can’t sleep. She’s been tossing and turning to no avail. Everyone knows who will be next to head the Ghost project. It may not have been official but who else could it be? Some are confused and some are hopeful. The Cardinal isn’t hated by any means but he never seemed like the type to lead a band.    

Sarah sits up and grabs her robe. She put her shoes on and is out the door before she can even think of where to go. On instinct Sarah ends up in the ministry gardens. A beautiful sanctuary created by Papa Primo in his retirement. She’s visited a couple times during the daytime. Towering hedge walls, bushes, flower beds, and trees as far as the eye can see and soft glowing lights above and below to light the path at night. In the distance she can see a cloaked figure but they’re covered in the shadows.

“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you!” Sarah lets out a soft laugh. The figure’s head moves to look at her and as she walks closer, she can see two distinctly miss-matched eyes looking at her. “Cardinal Copia? Is that… Is that you? I can leave.”

“No! Please, sit.” He makes some room for her on the small bench and pats the spot next to him. “I don’t mind if it’s you. I just needed some alone time and I couldn’t take one more minute in my room.”

Sarah sits down on the bench. “I’m sorry about today. If people were going to find out, it shouldn’t have come in that way...” She looks into his eyes.

“Papa is well-loved amongst the clergy. How else would anyone react?” He pats his hand on Sara’s hand in her lap. “Cara, I’ll be alright. This old bat can handle a few odd looks from the siblings.” he pleads. “Let’s not dwell too much about that right now; we mustn’t borrow trouble. What brings you to the garden so late into the night?”

She sighs. “I couldn’t sleep. I get these moods sometimes and after what happened with you today… I…”

Copia nods his head. “I don’t sleep very much, either.” Sarah turns to look up at him. “Vampire brain, I suppose. I tend not to sleep for very long every night.”

“What do you do with the extra hours?”

“I like to listen to music or uh… play video games.” He feels a bit embarrassed. “Sometimes I head to my office and start on the paperwork I left behind.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“I’m not alone right now.” Copia leans to bump shoulders with her. “What if I gave you my number and you can text me when you can’t sleep. We can be alone and restless together.”

She lets out a small gasp. Sarah turns to look at Copia. “You have a cellphone?”

“Cara if I didn’t adapt with the times I would be living in the dark ages.” Copia chuckles. “I know our ministry operates in an old building but if we didn’t have wi-fi and phones it would be torture to get anything done.

“Yes, well, it’s just a silly idea to me that a centuries old vampire would have a smartphone.” She giggles. “It’s like if you gave a Victorian child a Gameboy.”

“Hey, I’m hip as the kids might say, eh?” Sarah laughs a bit louder at that. “I’m pretty fly for an undead guy!”

Her shoulders are shaking from laughter. “If you say so, Cardinal.”

“Copia. Please, you don’t have to always address me as ‘Cardinal’, cara.”

“Ok… Copia.”

Copia stands up from the bench and turns to Sarah. “So, shall I walk you back to your room? It’s late and you still need to at least try to get some sleep.” He holds out his hand as Sarah stands up.

“Oh, I suppose.” She mimics. Copia gives her a small smirk as she grabs his hand. The two walk back to Sarah’s room hand-in-hand. Once they reach her door they stop in front of it.

“Well, this is where I take my leave, Sarah.” Copia raises her hand and gives a small kiss on the back it. “Have pleasant dreams, eh?”

Sarah’s cheeks turn pink and she gives a bashful smile to the Cardinal. A whispered “Thank you” manages to come out. She walks into her room and closes the door, glancing one last time to Copia.

After Copia gets back to his room, he changes into comfier clothes and lays down in his bed. Sleep is certainly going to evade him tonight. “Oh, my sweet Sarah. My dolcezza. What are you doing to me?”

Thus concludes chapter 2! I hope y'all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! I think this story will be about 5 chapters so we're almost halfway there.

[a-m-pyra]

First Burn: Ch7 Leading By The Hand (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

P had been in a bad mood since the morning; It's been a long time since he felt like lying in bed all day, getting absorbed in painful thoughts and memories. It had been a long time since he felt a terrible pressure in the middle of his chest, for the first time he felt his stomach being painfully squeezed.

Geppetto's words echoed in his head, “I knew it, you’re just a useless puppet.” Words that hurt even more than before. Sometimes he thought that maybe it would be better if he let him take his heart, not fight the Nameless Puppet, and let him have the son he wanted. 

Carlo. Not Pinocchio. Not the poor replacement he has become.

He blinked as a few drops of tears fell onto the paper. Crying was still new to him — the sadness felt terrible and yet so comfortable. It made his head feel heavy, it made it hard for him to catch his breath, and yet he felt like that was how he was supposed to feel. He liked how tears made all his emotions soothe.

Sometimes it was hard for him to stop crying. He wanted these devastating feelings of injustice, mourning and emptiness to continue. He wanted to immerse himself in them, like in the ocean. Let his body drift into the depths of loneliness in the middle of the night.

When he finished the sketch, he put the pencil between the pages of his sketchbook and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

He wasn't in a good mood, but he needed it. Just sit there with his eyes closed, let the thoughts flow in his head, reach his heart and force a flood of tears from him. 

He opened his eyes, staring at the pattern the wood made on the ceiling. He smiled slightly, paying no attention to the footsteps behind him. The whole world came back to him only when he felt someone's hand on his right hand. He saw Alice crouching next to him, looking at his face. 

“Do you sometimes…” he paused, wondering what he should say, “do you sometimes just want to be unhappy for a while? That you just want to feel... like that?”

“And cry mindlessly like a little baby?” she asked, and P nodded. “Yes. Sometimes coming back to the blues is like coming home, when for a huge part of your life all you have known is sadness.”

“I like this feeling. When I feel a tightness in my chest, my thoughts are hurting me and racing like crazy, and tears just flow down my face. Then I feel so… Human. Almost like a human.” 

She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her thumb over it. If he were Spring, he would have purred happily. Her touch was so nice and comforting — and yet reassuring that if he wanted to be sad, he could be sad with her. 

She reached for his sketchbook, hovering her hand over it. P, however, handed it to her himself, bending down and resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Useless puppet,” she whispered, looking at the drawing of P with a shattered heart and the man above him — she thought it must be Geppetto. “Did your father tell you that?”

He nodded.

“When he died in my arms.”

She lifted her head to look at him. He didn't cry anymore. His face was slightly swollen, his eyes were bloodshot, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Still, I'm glad he's dead,” he announced after a short while. “The only thing he ever wanted was anything but me. With love for Carlo, he also woke up when it was too late.”

“He didn't deserve any of you.”

He rubbed her hand with his thumb.

“Could I… Cuddle with you?”

She gave him a tender smile. They both stood up, Alice wrapped her arms around his neck and let him cuddle up to her. He buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder. The scent of her perfume reached him. He sniffed, closing his eyes and enjoying the scent that reminded him of a tea party. 

“Thank you,” he whispered as Alice threaded her fingers through his semi-long hair — which was only getting longer with each passing week. 

He groaned as he felt her nails scratching at his scalp. Her touch, so caring, so nice. Her warm breath on his cheek. He felt her pulse.

“No. You don’t need to thank me.”

He pulled away from her to look at her face. He hesitantly reached out to brush her hair and tuck it behind her ear.

He felt a strange tension arise between them — and she felt it too. They watched each other's faces, waiting for the other's move, afraid to initiate anything.

“I have no idea how I will repay you for this.”

“You don't have to. I…”

He waited for her to finish. He felt his mechanical heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Alice clutched the middle of her chest, turning red in the face.

They heard Alex's voice calling for her to help her with Evie.

“Go,” he announced, nodding. “I'll be fine.”

She smiled and nodded, heading towards the door. But when P wanted to go back to finish the sketch, she grabbed his wrist and kissed his cheek tenderly.

P stood still, but when he tried to look at her, all he saw was a cornflower blue skirt disappearing behind the corridor wall.

He laughed and touched his cheek.

She kissed him.

God, have mercy on me, he thought, glad he couldn't blush. Nevertheless, his entire body was tingling and he felt hot.

He felt electrified, and the stupid smile wouldn't leave his lips.

“Well... I'm starting to understand what's going on here,” he heard suddenly.

He shuddered, looking over his shoulder at the door where Otto stood. He fisted his shirt, trying to stop his heart from beating much faster than he would like to admit.

“What are you talking about?”

“Come on, don't make excuses, people like me have instincts. You two thirst over each other, you can feel it."

The Gemini, that Otto had brought with him after watching Evie sleep, chirped in agreement.

“Are you crazy? Alice just comforted me. I'm having a bad day.”

“Oh, come on. Wake up and make another move. Go there and tell her how you feel about her!”

“But there's nothing to talk about. Besides,” he sighed, “Even if I told her... I mean, you understand. I'm not saying it’s true, because it's not true…” Gemini, for as long as he knew P, knew that he never stumbled over his words, even when he lied. “She is the human woman. And I…”

“What? A puppet?” Gemini asked, and P clenched his left hand into a fist without looking at them.

“Yes. A puppet.”

P rubbed the edge of the paper between his fingers, then closed the sketchbook with the pencil inside and stood up, passing Otto in the doorway.

“Hey, where are you going?”

He slowed down, his fingers gripping the cover.

“I… Mrs. Seymour asked me to chop wood for the fireplace.”

Otto looked at Gemini's lamp. He chirped, agreeing with him that it sounded like a lie so they would leave him alone.

Meanwhile, P, taking advantage of the fact that the cold didn't bother him, sat down on a bench in the garden. However, he did not open his sketchbook. Instead, he stared at the cover, letting a different kind of thought than before flow through his head. 

He pursed his lips as he opened his sketchbook to the page with Alice's portrait; with her radiant smile, sparkling eyes and dark hair framing her face.

He felt warm, heavy material on him. He looked up and followed Mrs. Seymour, who sat down next to him on the bench, wrapping herself in a blanket.

“I thought you needed an extra few minutes.”

Madame Seymour's unfailing intuition; for some reason, she always knew when someone needed something.

“Is this also part of your magical practice?”

“No, through my family I learned how to read certain behaviors. So what?” She tilted her head.

P realized that she had let her hair down and cut it shorter. He looked closer only to delay his words — he didn't want to talk about it, but he wanted advice — on both issues. Otto and Gemini, however, did not seem competent enough to advise him. Especially since now any confessions were out of the question.

He felt her thumb rub his cheek. 

“You had Alice's lipstick on your cheek. Now, what’s in your mind?”

He felt the heat of embarrassment throughout his body again. He rubbed his cheek harder to make sure he got it all out.

Mrs. Seymour was Alice's mother. Decency made him keep it all to himself; but Mrs. Seymour was also his therapist.

He didn't think he would ever have to face this type of dilemma.

However, he decided to start with what really bothered him. He opened his sketchbook to the latest drawing and handed it to Mrs. Seymour.

“My father told me this when he was dying in my arms. Those words were running through my head all day long, like a broken record.”

Mrs. Seymour's face darkened. She looked as if the drawing had unlocked certain memories for her.

Otto blurted out that Mrs. Seymour was thrown out of the house for witchcraft. Maybe she was actually familiar with what he was feeling right now.

“Geppetto was… A truly vile man.” She fell silent, rubbing the edge of the paper.

“Actually, at one point, Mr. Venigni was closer to me. Everyone in the hotel was closer to me than my father, but…” he clutched his chest, “it still hurts. Here."

“I know from experience that no matter how far you distance yourself from your parent, no matter how well someone else would be better in this role, who would know you better than your own family, rejection still hurts terribly. This is the worst type of betrayal. However, you must know that there are or will be people who will want to be a part of your life, no matter who you are or what you are like. Finding a family is a long process in which you will return to that moment of rejection, even when you find your dream family. But we're here to support each other, right? It may not be perfect, but…”

P smiled. 

“It's almost perfect.”

Mrs. Seymour returned his smile.

"That's true." She sighed. “But, due to my past, I'm probably not the best person to give motivational speeches on this topic. I react too emotionally.”

P chuckled to himself and looked down at his lap.

“You remind me of Sophia.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Blue Fairy?”

P nodded.

“As soon as I saw you, I felt like I was seeing her reflection. Unlike my father, she gave me space to make my own choices and gave me advice. And she was always so… Motherly. You're like that too.”

Alex felt moved by these words.

“Alice is so lucky to have you as her mom.”

“In a way, I'm the mom of all these children. For you, I'm probably closer to your mother-in-law.”

P felt embarrassed again. She knew. Alice was right, Mrs. Seymour didn't miss anything.

“I like Alice. So much. I feel... her presence makes me happy. Even today, even though she was ready to be with me and…” He fell silent. Mrs. Seymour smiled broadly. “Sorry.”

“No. Don't apologize. I wouldn't say that if I minded you two getting closer.” She pulled the blanket over herself a little tighter as the wind picked up. “If I can assure you of one thing, it's that you make her happy, too. I don't remember ever being as radiant and at ease in a man's presence as she is with you. We don't count Otto for obvious reasons.”

P laughed.

“You give me hope.”

“Me? Never! However, I don't think you need to rush into anything, and I told Alice the same thing. Allow yourself space, see where it leads. Sometimes jumping in at the deep end isn't a good thing at all. If you incorrectly determine the depth of the tank, you may break something. Or not to come out.”

Digression. Alice said that this was one of the biggest symptoms of Mrs. Seymour's disorder — after the pervasive interests and hyperfixations.

“What was it like with you and Alice’s sister?”

“Oh, she spilled the beans?”

“It was supposed to be a story for a story.”

She laughed the warmest giggle he had ever heard in his life.

“I see. Well, our case was slightly different. In the case of Lilibeth, it was like a bolt from the blue, and from the very beginning, as soon as I saw her, I knew that I would be with this girl. Everything happened so fast, but, for some reason, we were a perfect match.”

P reveled in the way Mrs. Seymour said the diminutive of her name. There was so much love in it, even after all this time.

“How many years has it been?”

Mrs. Seymour thought for a moment.

“Fourteen.” She looked down at her lap and smiled sadly. “And I still only love her. And I miss her, hoping that we will meet there someday.”

P grabbed both sides of the blanket and wrapped it tighter around himself, enjoying the warmth and softness of the thick material.

“I wish I could love like that someday.”

She patted his thigh.

“And nothing, dear P, prevents this. However, remember that you don't have to rush anything. With healing, forgetting, happiness, love or confessions. It's all like gingerbread. The most important thing in creating good gingerbread is not expensive spices or a fancy recipe. Time plays the main role here.”

He liked the allegory — and was glad that Mrs. Seymour had taken a completely different tack from Otto, allowing him to find his way through it all at his own pace — especially since he had only been aware of the world around him for a few months. He was like a child in a fog and he was happy to find someone who could help him get out of this fog.