#and how would she know any different if she was raised that way
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Aftermath - Chapter 8
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When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.
warnings: lando makes an appearance in this one. abusive language used, including sexist name calling. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 3.9k words a note: here it is babies!!! the last one in this series. i know it's been different from what i usually write, but this has been so much fun. extra special thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl as usual for beta reading and holding my hand at 2am when i wake up struck by an idea hahaha <3
Aftermath - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Aftermath - Chapter 5 Aftermath - Chapter 6Aftermath - Chapter 7 Master List
madmaxx1 posted
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52 likes liked by ferrarisprince16, babyleclercpriv, jadebby, and others madmaxx1 pretty pretty girl ferrarisprince16 hey! so this is insane! >>>artiebartie yeah! stop thirsting over our sister >>>madmaxx1 never babyleclercpriv <3 jadebby god you two are so cute it's gross
missleclerc posted
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missleclerc surprise! some new pieces are debuting at @/nessasgallery TONIGHT. I'll be there to discuss this new direction my art is going in along with what (and who) inspired me to try such a drastic new approach to painting. I hope you'll drop by and take a look, it would be lovely to see you! maxverstappen1 does this make me your muse??? >>>charlesleclerc hey! my car is up there right next to you! that means I'm a muse too! >>>missleclerc you two are ridiculous >>>user0298 uhhhhhhhh... user1029 ferrari and red bull without a mclaren in sight. iiiiiiinteresting >>>user1100 i think this is all the breakup confirmation we need user455 oh shes in LOVE LOVE with max >>>user444 oh this is so messy. i love it. give me 12 more seasons right now.
“If we don’t leave in the next ten minutes, we’re going to be late for your own event, pretty girl.” Max tuts at you from the doorway of your bedroom but there’s no bite behind his words.
You glance up at him from your vanity where you’re sitting doing the last bits of your makeup. He looks heartbreakingly handsome in crisp white button-down underneath a tailored navy blue sport coat and matching slacks. His hair is combed neatly to the side, gelled into submission in a way that makes you want to rake your fingers through it just to muss it up.
“I’m nearly ready, mister bossy pants.” You shoot back before switching off the light on the vanity and standing up.
Max rolls his eyes but takes advantage of you walking towards him, smile on your face, and blatantly ogles you. The way the navy blue lacy dress hugs every dip and curve of your frame has Max checking his watch, wondering just how late you two could be without raising suspicion.
“Don’t get any ideas.” You giggle, wrapping your arms around Max’s waist before pitching up onto your toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You were just scolding me that we can’t be late and then you come in here looking at me like that.”
“It’s not my fault you look like a goddamn masterpiece in that dress.” He murmurs against your neck as he drags hot, open mouthed kisses down towards your collar bone.
The way Max talks to you now, the reverent way he looks at you like you’re a piece of art in the most normal of situations, the way he always has to be touching you even with just the tips of his fingers, it’s everything you’ve ever craved from a relationship and everything you thought you didn’t deserve.
Two weeks have passed since that night in your studio and while Max had to be gone for half of it for a race, one that you had solidly refused to attend until the dust between you and Lando settles a little more, it’s almost as if you two have been together for years now. The way you’ve slotted yourself into his life and Max into yours is so settling, so calming that you’ve caught yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’ve caught yourself waiting for him to behave like Lando, to push you away or do something that proves that Lando was right all along.
Max knows you’ve been waiting for it so he’s made an extra effort to prove to you that it’s never going to happen. He knows you’re still healing, still recovering from what the British driver did to you so he hasn’t pushed. He hasn’t pushed to label whatever it is you two are to each other. It doesn’t matter to either of you because if you’re both in Monaco, you’re together. Max comes down to your apartment to watch while you cook dinner or you go up to his to cuddle on the couch and spend the night. It’s been a blissfully quiet time but you can both feel that private time coming to an end.
The comments on your post from earlier had been mostly positive but it was pretty apparent fans had put two and two together. People knew you and Max were…something. They had figured out that a breakup had taken place even if nothing had officially been announced. You knew that once you arrived to the gallery tonight, hand in hand with Max, that was all it was going to take to confirm to the public that you and Lando were over and you had moved on.
The thought of what Lando might do after he sees the coverage of tonight, and you know there will be coverage, has anxiety sitting heavy on your shoulders. Max clocks it instantly, shaking his head. He reads you so easily now, he always has but since that night in your studio, he’s been even more in tune with you and your moods.
“Don’t go there. It’s going to be fine. Everyone who loves you, who matters, is going to be there and we won’t let anything or anyone ruin tonight, okay?”
You nod, attempting to tamp down the anxiety that blooms hotly in your chest. You hated how much control Lando still had over you sometimes but you were getting better, bit by bit. “Thank you.” You whisper, nuzzling into the crook of Max’s neck while inhaling the scent of his cologne.
“I have something for you.” Max murmurs into your hair in an obvious attempt to distract you.
You pull back, eyes sparkling up at him. “You do?”
Distraction successful.
Max reaches into the back pocket of his slacks and pulls out a rectangular velvet box. You blink up at him in confusion. “Max…”
“It’s just something small to show you how proud I am of you, how wildly in love I am with you.” He says, the words skittering up your spine before settling deep in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never been loved in the way Max loves you and it’s always seemingly knocking you off your center. “Go on, open it.” He whispers, watching as you turn the velvet box over in your hands.
The hinges on the box whisper open and you’re momentarily speechless when you see what is nestled in the black satin. A diamond tennis necklace winks up at you with dozens of brilliant cut diamonds set in what looks to be platinum, stealing the very breath from your lungs. The stone that sits nestled in the center though is what renders you completely speechless. A large emerald cut brilliant blue sapphire stone sits in the middle of the necklace, the color a perfect match to the navy blue of Max’s Formula 1 car.
“Max.” You whisper, unable to find any other words beyond his name.
“Do you like it?” He asks, eyes searching yours earnestly, looking for approval in your face.
“It’s…” The words to describe the beauty of the piece sitting heavy in your hands escapes you. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, a small, involuntary gasp escaping your lips. The diamonds, so bright they seem to shimmer with the captured light, blur and swim together as tears prick at your eyes. “Max,” You manage again, your voice thick with emotion that you struggle to get a handle on. “It’s breathtaking.”
He reaches for the necklace, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a surge of pleasure down your spine. His touch, simple as it is, is familiar but charged with a new intensity. He lifts the delicate chain, the cool metal a stark contrast against the warmth of his skin, and fastens it around your neck after you spin for him while lifting your hair out of the way. The weight of the piece settles against your skin, a physical reminder of his affection, his love for you. Love. The word echoes int he quiet space of your mind, a sound so heavy but exhilarating that it has fresh tears threatening to spill over.
“Turn around.” He murmurs, voice husky. Max takes a step back, eyes raking over you, a slow appreciative burn in their blue depths.
You obey, your movements a little stiff and unsure. As you turn, the sapphire catches the light, flashing a vibrant, rich blue against the pale glow of your skin. You spot your reflection in the mirror across the room just as you turn back to face Max and your breath catches again. The necklace transforms your outfit into something extraordinary. It’s not just beautiful, it’s…meaningful. It’s a symbol of his belief in you, his pride in being with you, his acceptance of you, flaws and all.
It’s a promise, whispered against your skin.
“It’s too much.” You whisper, the words barely audible. The sheer extravagance of the gift, the depth of the emotion behind it, is almost too overwhelming.
Max steps closer, his hands slipping around your waist as he pulls you against his body. “It’s not too much.” He says, his voice gentle but firm. “You deserve the world, everything beautiful and bright and good. And this?” He gestures to the necklace clasped around your neck, the sapphire resting in the hollow of your throat, “This is just a small token of my love.”
“Thank you.” You whisper, the words wholly inadequate and insufficient to describe the way your stomach is swirling with emotion but it’s all you can manage in the face of such overwhelming emotion. You reach up, your fingers tracing the cool surface of the center stone. It feels like a piece of him, a tangible representation of the connection you both share. And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet him of unspoken emotion, you know that whatever happens tonight, whatever Lando might do to ruin the night or in the future, you’re not alone. You have Max. And that, you realize, is more precious than any piece of jewelry that Max could ever give you.
f1.gossip.news posted
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f1.gossip.news in a move that shocked...absolutely no one, charles leclerc's little sister stepped out hand in hand with new flame max verstappen tonight. while her and lando never officially announced their split, we've all seen the writing on the wall. her insta post announcing her new artwork debuting tonight featuring the red bull driver was all the confirmation we needed that her and the mclaren driver are dunzoooo. what do we think, chat??? user7575 she is GLOWING! good for her. >>>user0209 seriously, i haven't seen her or max look this happy in ages. user3221 i can hear the dishes breaking in lando's apartment from here in london >>>user0202 seriously. imagine losing the championship last year AND THEN YOUR GIRL to max verstappen. WHEEEEW BOY. user1992 this is so messy. i love it.
The light from the gallery spills out onto the sidewalk, casting a golden glow out into the street that guides you and Max towards it’s doors. It doesn’t escape your notice that the last time you walked down this sidewalk at night towards Nessa’s gallery for a show of yours, you were alone and desperately sad.
Tonight though? Tonight is completely different. Your arm is tucked securely in Max’s elbow as he walks with towards the gallery with you after dropping the car off with the valet. The necklace he’d given you that night sits securely around your throat, an outwardly sign of the budding relationship between you two. As you approach the gallery, you see your brothers waiting for you but this time, all of their significant others are also waiting for you as well.
Charles is the first one to intercept you, catching you up in a tight hug before whispering how lovely you look tonight in your ear. You’re passed first to Arthur and finally to Lorenzo, who makes a joke about the rock around your neck. Through it all, Max sits back quietly, watching you glow under the attention of your brothers. Jade, Alexandra, and Charlotte all make a fuss over your outfit and paw at the necklace, swooning over how it practically sparkles under the gallery lights.
When you finally make it into the gallery, there are dozens of people already there. Nessa sees you walk through the door first and pounces on you instantly.
“My darling!” She coos, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you tightly. “You are shimmering with happiness.” She comments, eyes darting to where Max stands behind you, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he talks with Charles and Arthur. “And I suppose we have that man to thank for that.”
“Partly.” You agree, but you know it’s more than that. You feel as though you’ve been given a second chance tonight. You were so close to losing everything, to succumbing to everything that Lando had put you through over the last three years that this first night out feels like your first taste of what life should feel like. You knew you had Max to thank for a lot of that, but it also wasn’t lost on you how much you had also fought to be there for yourself. “I’ve done a lot of work on myself the last few months too.”
Nessa nods, running a protective hand up and down your bare arms. “I know, your art has changed! It feels lighter but also there’s so much more depth to it. I’ve had several inquiries about the one of your man after Brazil.” She says, eyes alright with dollar signs.
“Unfortunately, that one is already sold.” Max cuts in, slipping his arm around your waist before handing you a glass of red wine.
You startle, not realizing that you had already sold a piece so early on in the night. “It is?”
Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. “I came in yesterday afternoon while you were taking a nap and bought it.”
Your head snaps to Nessa, looking for confirmation. “Paid twice my asking price.” She murmurs, smirk playing at her ruby red lips. Traditionally, she never sold a piece before it was debuted but Max had been persuasive and insisted on locking down the piece without you knowing before hand.
“Max!” You hiss, bumping a shoulder into his. “I would have just given it to you if you’d asked! I was planning on doing that anyway!”
Max shrugs, small smile on his face. “I wanted to make sure no one beat me to it. And of course I paid for it! Allow my girl to give her work away for free? Just because I’m the muse doesn’t mean I get special treatment.”
You’re fairly certain you blush deeper a deep red than the scarlet of your brother’s Ferrari at the praise Max heaps on you. Nessa hides a knowing grin behind her own wine glass before excusing herself to go talk to a client that had just walked in.
Max and you are left alone in the center of the room and for a moment, the silence that settles over you two is a comforting blanket. It’s not hurried or anxious, the energy between you tonight. It’s a calm, steady thrum of energy that passes easily from Max to you without having to do much more than exchange a glance or quick brush of fingertip against bare skin. You watch your family swirl around the room, each gently checking in on you in their own time as they mingle and you feel yourself relax into the vibe of the evening.
You’re two glasses in and having a hushed conversation with Jade as Max stands beside you, backs to the door, when a sudden tension snaps through the gallery. On the opposite side of the room, the door at the front of the gallery snaps just a touch too loudly, pulling your attention in that direction.
The figure that stands just inside the gallery sends your stomach dropping through your toes.
“Shit.” Beside you, Max’s hand finds yours and he instinctively shifts to put himself between the rest of the gallery and yourself.
You knew this was going to happen. You had felt it in your bones tonight as you had gotten ready. You knew that Lando would never let you have this. Knew deep down that he’d never let you fully get away from him without having the last word. If there was one thing that Lando couldn’t stand, it was being made a fool of. And you knew that showing up here tonight on Max’s arm, wearing Max’s jewels would set him off.
You deserved what was coming.
You try frantically to step around Max, feeling the need to absorb the fire you knew Lando was going to spew everywhere. But Max won’t allow it. Without a single glance in your direction, Max shifts his weight once again and you find yourself even further away from Lando now. Somewhere to your left, you sense Charles and Arthur step in front of you two and you’re certain Lorenzo is around somewhere.
“Typical LeClerc behavior. Hiding behind others who are more powerful than you in order to save face. Learned from the best, didn’t you baby?” The venom in Lando’s voice sinks it’s claws into your bloodstream, threatening to drag you under.
Around you, conversations cease instantly, all attention on the scene happening in the corner of the room.
You weren’t going to let Lando win this though. You were done giving him the power to control you, done dodging the confrontation in an attempt to quietly end things between you. He just wasn’t getting the hint and if he was going to behave like this, then fine. You were fed up.
Pushing through Max and Charles, you stand in front of your ex-boyfriend, head held high. “Lando, this is neither the time nor the place to do this.” Your voice is deceptively calm, not giving away a bit of the fear that trembles just below the surface.
Lando sneers, rolling his eyes and then his gaze snags on the necklace at your throat. The navy blue stone catches the light, winking over at him with an antagonizing shimmer. He takes half a step closer and you feel Max shift again, but this time he comes to stand beside you instead of in front of you.
“Wearing his collar already, huh?” He bites out. A chorus of gasps ripple through the gallery but you just tip your chin up higher, used to his attempts at humiliation. Lando’s gaze shifts to Max beside you and a cruel smile curls at the corner of his mouth. “Tell me, Verstappen. Does she still make that little cooing noise right before she comes? It was always the sweetest little sound, you know the one I’m talking about, right?”
Humiliation burns through you, hot and bright as Max reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze. Another ripple of disbelief peppers through the crowd but Max barely blinks. “You know, I’ve never heard her make that particular sound.” He pauses and Lando’s face lights up in a brilliant smile, as if he’s won. “Usually, she’s too busy screaming my name when I make her come though so she’s never been one to make quiet little sounds with me.”
Silence.
“I always knew you were a cheating whore.”
A sickening crack rings out in the otherwise silent room as your brother’s fist connects squarely with Lando’s jaw.
“Charles!” You gasp, hand flying to your throat as you watch Lando stagger back.
Charles shakes out his hand, received to be able to move all of his fingers. He can’t imagine that call to Maranello going well if he’d had to phone about a broken hand.
“Keep my sister’s name out of your filthy fucking mouth, you piece of trash.” Charles spits, voice a mask of sheer deathly calm.
Max steps forward, a silent demand for order radiating from the way he stands. “Enough.” His voice is unwaveringly calm as he watches Lando struggle to his feet, clutching at his left eye where a deep blue bruise is already blooming. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the police. I don’t think Zak would be to happy to hear about tonight’s shenanigans or enjoy having to read the media coverage after his star driver gets arrested for harassment.” Max takes half a step towards Lando and you enjoy the way the Brit scrambles away. “If you so much as sneeze in her direction ever again, I will make it my life’s mission to see your entire life ruined, Norris.” Max is practically nose to nose with Lando now, his glare cutting down your ex-boyfriend so he appears about two inches tall. “Are. We. Clear?”
****
Later that night, Max startles awake, unsurprised to find himself alone in your bed. He knew you were restless tonight. It had taken him nearly twice as long as it usually did for him to pull your body to release underneath him. And after, when you had tumbled head first into sleep, naked beside him, you weren’t settled like you usually were when you slept beside him.
So no, he wasn’t surprised to find you gone and the bed long cold beside him.
Pulling on a pair of boxers, Max wanders into your spare bedroom that’s morphed into somewhat of a second studio space. He finds you exactly where he expects you: facing away from him sitting in front of a half finished canvas. You’re bathed in a brilliant blue moonlight, wearing nothing but his white dress shirt from earlier and his necklace you still haven’t removed.
“Come back to bed, my love.” He murmurs into the crook of your neck as you drop your head onto his, sinking into the warmth of his embrace.
A soft sound of agreement hums in the back of your throat as you place the brush on the table beside you. Max is a touch surprised with how pliant you are, instantly following his suggestion without much fight but he also knows today took a lot out of you and the thing you sometimes craved was the ability to shut it all off.
“I wasn’t getting much work done anyway.” You murmur, standing and leaning into his embrace even more. The room is chilly anyway and you find yourself needing Max’s touch more than anything else in that moment.
You allow Max to tug you out the door towards your bedroom, knowing that he’s able to read you perfectly. He doesn’t rush you though. He lets you linger for a moment in the doorway, your gaze snagging lightly on the painting behind you. It’s a gorgeous landscape that you’re known for, something you haven’t been able to paint in what feels like a lifetime. The moonlight paints silver streaks across the floor, illuminating the painting that you had spent the last hour just starting at. It’s a peaceful scene, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had filled your day. A small, contented sigh escapes your lips and Max squeezes your hand just enough to pull your attention back to him.
Once back in the bedroom, the chill of the room sends a shiver down your spine. Max, ever attentive, pulls back the covers, gesturing for you to climb in first. He watches as you curl up on your side, tucking your knees up in towards your chest. The white shirt slips off your body, revealing the delicate curve of your spine. He slides in beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Max reaches out, his hand finding the curve of your hip and gently pulls you closer until your back is flush against his chest. He wraps an arm around your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach.
You melt into his touch, the warmth of his body radiating through you. His breath is warm against the back of your neck and the steady rhythm of his heart is a soothing lullaby you’ve come to depend on at night. The events of earlier linger in the back of your mind, but here, in Max’s arms they start to feel a little more distant, muffled almost. He kisses the nape of your neck softly, a quiet reminder of his constant presence in your life now, how he’ll never allow you to be alone of face anything by yourself anymore.
“Better?” He whispers, voice low and rumbling against your bare skin.
“Mm-hmm” You hum, snuggling deeper into his embrace. You reach down and take his hand that sits on your belly, intertwining your fingers with his. The simple act of holding his hand grounds you, reminding you that you’re not alone anymore. You turn slightly in his arms, just enough to look up at him. His eyes, even in the dim light of the bedroom, are filled with tenderness and understanding.
“Thank you.” You whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
Max smiles, a soft, reassuring smile that makes your heart ache in the best way. “For what, liefje?” His Dutch accent is thick now, as it gets when he’s tired and emotional.
“For everything.” You say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “For being here. For understanding. For taking care of me.”
He pulls you closer, his hold tighenying slightly. “Always.” He murmurs against your lips. “Always and forever, my love.”
And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, you know that no matter what happens next, you and Max will face it together. This, right here, in his arms, is your happy ending that you’ve been chasing after your entire life.
Tag list:
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#f1#formula 1#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x leclercsister!reader#max vertsappen fic#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#aftermath#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fluff
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HELLOOO👋🏻
Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??
Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭
Hope you have time to do this req!
Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))
I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!
Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.
TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)
Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.
It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.
It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.
You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.
That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.
Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.
The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.
He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.
Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.
By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.
As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.
However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.
You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.
As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.
He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.
The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.
Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.
However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.
You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.
"Gotcha."
You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.
It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.
You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.
"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."
You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.
He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.
You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.
You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"
It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"
Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.
Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."
The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."
You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.
You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.
After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.
The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.
He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.
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family relations | 18+ mdni
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everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble.
when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least.
with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious.
“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say.
“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after.
—
holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition.
the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love.
on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters.
“did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked.
“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply.
when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds.
“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric.
“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.”
your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter.
the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters.
—
you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level.
molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms.
instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone.
“they wanted to go with you, you know.”
you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd.
“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.”
“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well.
the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates.
“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?”
—
it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone.
the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them.
it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling.
“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply.
“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..”
“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off.
and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you.
a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:
“they’re like my brothers, really.”
—
happy valentines day <3
#tw: pseudo incest#weasley twins x reader#weasley twins smut#weasley twins#george weasley#fred weasley#george weasley x reader#fred weasley x reader#george weasley smut#fred weasley smut#harry potter fic#harry potter x reader#harry potter smut#arachnid writes#ihavenointerestinreallife
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hii!! may i request for the feb prompt session? specifically our boy eddie munson with numbers 2 & 5! like eddie pulling reader aside to confide abt their little crush to someone and reader just thinks oh ahah its nothing but as time goes on we can slide in prompt number 5 for ultimate pining from reader 🤓 perhaps even angsty,, mwhehe >:)
A/N - this is great for Eddie! Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!
Be Brave
Summary - Eddie asks you for advice.
Warnings - Fluff with a hint of Angst
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“Hey! I wanna talk about something with you,”
“If it involves Hellfire you’re on your own. I’m not going to be getting you out of your shit hole situations anymore,”
“No no! I mean….that’s nice when you help with that, but no. It’s something else,”
You poked your head out of your locker, seeing your best friend look at you with an image of nervousness on his face. His wild hair framing his face and his backpack half-hazardly over his shoulder. You could see the look in his eyes that this was serious, and knowing Eddie Munson, he was rarely serious.
He was serious about a few things: Hellfire Club, his love for metal music, and the need to be his own different. So what would it be?
“What’s going on, Eddie?” You asked as you grabbed a few books from your locker to put in your backpack.
“You won’t make fun of me?” He questioned, you grinning as you raised a brow at him.
“Since when do I ever, ever make fun of you?” You asked him in a teasing way.
“I’m not going to answer that,” he replied, “Just…I wanna talk to you because you’re a girl and you probably are better equip at this than me,”
That made you pause again as you finally closed your locker and faced Eddie. You both were close as friends, ever since you were recruited to join Hellfire club thanks to your older brother who knew Eddie. They both were in the same grade and your brother knew you liked playing Dungeons and Dragons, he taught you the game. He figured you playing with Eddie would both get you something to do and to get you out of his hair. Both worked, and you were a decent player at the table. It made Eddie admire you all the more, not that he didn’t think girls could play Dungeons and Dragons, he just loved how you played. The same vigor and bite, just like how he played.
Which in return made him get a small crush on you. Not that he knew that you were crushing on him back.
“I wanna tell this girl that I like her, but I don’t know how to do it,” he explained, your heart both beating a pinch faster and plummeting at the same time. You were never one to be yearning for drama that others went through, especially girls and their crushes. It seemed too time consuming and petty, which explained by you hardly had any girl friends. Just a few, but you liked it that way. You had no time for drama and boy trouble, you had too much homework and after school activities to deal with than to figure out who liked who and who was dating
One of your friends was a cheerleader named Danielle, good friends with Christie Cunningham who was pretty much great with everyone at Hawkins High. You and Danielle study together in the library on Tuesdays during Study Hall because you both were the top students in your science class, in all your classes really, and one afternoon she asked you about Eddie.
“What about him?” You whispered to her since the librarian was notorious for shushing those who were not whispering. Danielle grinned, chewing the back of her pencil as she was tapping her fingers on the top of her opened science book.
“He’s kind of cute, isn’t he?” She asked you in a shrug. You kept it cool, something you brother taught you since you were notorious for not having the best poker face. But deep down, it felt like she kicked you straight in the stomach and you were about to vomit all over the desk.
“He’s alright,” You hummed, Danielle rolling her eyes.
“Oh come on, you don’t think he’s cute? With at will hair and how he loves his music?” She asked, keeping her voice low. You wanted to roll your eyes, clearly knowing deep down that Danielle had no idea about the music he likes or the kind of hobbies he was into. Maybe you were protective of Eddie since you two were close and confided in each other from time to time, and to hear that someone else liked him only as a surface crush, it was not sitting well with you.
“He’s my friend,” You could only reply, Danielle shrugging and going back to work on her notebook. You passed for a few long seconds, thinking of the worst possibility that Danielle and Eddie would be a couple in the future. It made you mad, sad, confused, and heartbroken at the same time. But you could only bury it down and not mention it. That was social suicide, not even worth it.
So it was buried, along with your own feelings for Eddie.
“The best thing to do is to tell her how you feel,” You explained as you and Eddie walked down the hall, side by side while Eddie watched you in earnest to hear your suggestion to him, “Girls like honesty, not flirting around the bush,”
“That sounds…weird,” Eddie explained with a confused look on his face.
“You know what I mean,” You reasoned as you grinned, “Look, Eddie, whoever this girl is, I bet if you tell them and you’re honest about it, it’ll work out. You’re a great guy,”
“I think you’re forgetting that I have the nickname Eddie “the Freak” Munson around here,” He reminded you as you huffed.
“That stems from the popular kids who don’t know how to wipe their own asses,” You joked, Eddie was chuckling as you made it to your English class. You turned to face him, seeing him watch you with warmth in his brown eyes and a small smirk on his lips. Reach over to squeeze his arm gently within your fingers, you tilted your head up at him since he had a few inches on you.
“Be brave, Eddie. Girls dig it,” You explained, then slipped into your class right when the bell rang. Eddie stood there for a few long seconds, drinking all you said before he jogged down the hall to get to his math class. He could be brave, it was easier said than done but he could. You made it sound so easy, like a normal chore to do throughout the day. But maybe he could do it just to make you smile.
It gave him a pep in his step.
“I rolled a 20!”
“Roll for damage?”
“13?”
“Hell yeah! How do you wanna do this?”
You leaned over the table, your D20 dice perched in front of your spot along with your papers and notepad etched out in notes as you were describing how you were killing the beast in the middle of combat. The others around the table were cheering, egging you on as you were drinking in the victory that was in your hands.
Eddie, in his Dungeon Master chair, was watching in amazement a massive grin on his face as you were using your hands, and your eyes lit up in joy while you were giving every single detail with precision. He’s seen the others in Hellfire give great details when they would end or an enemy, but you were on a different level. You loved storytelling, and the way you spoke, and played the game with creativity and enthusiasm. He wished the others would take a page out of your book.
In that moment as the others cheered, Garret clasping you on the shoulder and Dustin and Mike cheering loudly, Eddie watched with a cocked head and love in his eyes. You were laughing, blush on your cheeks and your light brown hair dancing in the low lighting made his heart flutter.
You didn’t know that Danielle was shot down by Eddie a few days before, Danielle asked him out to study together after school and Eddie politely declined. He knew Danielle was not the one for him, and she never held a flame for him to be entranced to. Not like you, Eddie was a moth to your flame and he liked it that way. He knew what he liked, and he remembered what you told him in that hallway.
You told him to be brave. And maybe after the game, he would finally ask you on a date.
The End.
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#Eddie munson#Eddie munson x reader#Eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#fanfiction#writing#stranger things fandom
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- notes on impossible minecraft.
It’s the end of Wild Life, and something is different.
Joel stands, breathing hard, a victor above his failed trap. He holds a sword in one hand, an ender pearl in the other. He knows that when he turns around he will see them, just like the others had. Except when he turns around, there are ghosts.
They’re supposed to go home, after they die. That’s what had always happened. It was how they got out of the world - but it didn’t seem to matter this time, everyone was still here, around him.
Joel throws the ender pearl, and takes the ghosts with him to the void. They stand around him as he faces the Watchers, though they are unable to see it themselves. Joel begs the Watchers to let them go. He would let the Watchers have him, if they let the others go. But the Watchers don’t want just Joel. They want Grian.
There are many different worlds within the universe. Hundreds, thousands, infinite numbers - some of them further away, distorted, uninhabitable. Time moves differently in some of them, you could spend a thousand years in one world and only pass the tick of a clock in another. Worlds are created and destroyed every day. Every hermit has come from somewhere - they are all refugees, in a way, forced out of their home worlds for one reason or another. For some, it’s been so long they can hardly remember the place they came from at all. Every world has its own rules. In these strange, short lived places created by the Watchers, the rules have always been simple - to leave, you die. Play the game, run out of lives, and one lucky winner might have the chance of a lifetime, the chance to speak to the gods. It never happened quite like that.
Joel stands in the void now, surrounded by his friends, sword in one hand, empty fist in another. If the Watchers wanted Grian, they’d have to go through him. There is a whirlwind, as the patchwork of worlds twists and turns around them. He’s spinning, thinks Joel. Creating more time. Giving us a chance. Grian calls to the others, to Etho and Cleo and Bdubs, who stand at the back - to go through the door that has appeared in the void. Joel wonders why, and how. The Watcher’s have created a portal - you can go home, they say, all of you - but Grian belongs to us. So does Joel. He won the game, after all. But the ghosts don’t all go home. To Joel’s surprise, he watches as Gem steps forward into the spinning vortex of space and time that he and Grian are caught in. She raises her fists defiantly toward the enormous, impossible beings bearing down on them. Pearl joins them. Then Impulse, and Skizz, their faces written with hard determination. Joel feels a hand take his, and he almost pushes Lizzie away, begging her to follow the others through the portal. He doesn’t. Worlds spin past them, faster and faster, thousands and thousands of them, each a tiny crystal in the infinite void. Grian’s screaming for Scar and Jimmy to go through the portal, and Cleo is trying to pull them in, but they don’t, and they’re running towards the circle of light. Joel tries to move, but finds his feet locked in place, wincing against the wind that whips his cheeks, faster than any storm, and he reaches for Jimmy and pulls him into him, clawing into his back for dear life. For a moment, he doesn’t think Scar is going to make it, but he hears the Watcher’s panicked voices in the back of his mind -
And then everything stops. He stands, in a circle, on a rocky outcrop, and distantly he thinks he can hear the sound of the sea. Everything is silent.
It’s the end of Wild Life, and nine players find themselves somewhere unfamiliar.
The cold chill of winter hangs in the air. They’ve forgotten that it’s late December, somewhere. The world of Wild Life felt warmer. This one doesn’t - it’s bitter, there’s a freezing wind coming in from the ocean, and an icy layer of snow on the ground. It’s not a place any of them recognize.
This world instantly proves itself to be different. The first death comes within an hour. Lizzie bolts upright, back on the slab of rock, still reeling from what had killed her. Pearl nurses a wound where the bark of a tree had sliced into her skin. Five hours in, and the group realizes that wherever they are, the rules here are unlike anything they’ve ever seen.
Grian privately wishes the others had gone through the portal home. He tries everything he can think of, but is unable to reach beyond the borders of the world. They’re trapped here, in this place where reality seemed to warp in on itself, and everything wanted to kill them. No matter how many times they died, they always ended up back on the rock by the ocean.
Grian can’t tell if the Watcher’s had meant to send them here. They’d panicked, caught off guard by Grian’s swarm of chaos and unexpected backup. He can tell…something is here, though he’s not sure what - it’s an overbearing presence, a feeling that somebody is controlling them, watching them, learning from them. He has one goal in his mind. Reach the End, kill the dragon, and he can make a portal home. It’s worked in the past. The End is like a pocket dimension, a border between worlds, a place where the rules didn’t apply. They could get home, if they could only make it to the End. The uneasiness grows on him, and Grian tries to push it away, focusing on staying alive. The others are determined. He’s angry, at first, that they’d followed him, but soon he’s glad to have them. Three days in, and they’ve already grown somewhat numb to the constant onslaught of physical attacks. Grian almost welcomes the familiar feeling of dying. He catches himself cursing the view from his makeshift bed, wishing he might wake up anywhere else.
A week in, and the determination starts to wear down.
The cold makes it difficult. Gem shivers as she tries to heat her cabin, attempting to find a way to light a fire without burning to death. Despite their constant battle with the lava flow, the world is freezing everywhere else, hung deep within the darkness of winter. Pearl tries to make amends, but Gem is still tense, guarded, cautious - though she says they are on the same team now, the heat of the recent game is still clearly in her mind. Jimmy attempts to grow food, battling the icy wind and little daylight. Joel tries his best to gather Iron, though the caves are worse than above ground. Impulse and Skizz’s successful iron farm is a win. That night, the group huddles all together on the top floor of Joel’s cabin, repeating the only glimmer of hope they have, that they just have to kill the dragon. Joel starts to think it might be impossible.
Two weeks in, and it’s like the world is learning from them, like it can see the small victories and successes, and preys on them like a hawk. Lizzie curses as the smoker burns her eyes, leaving what little food she had charred and barren. The sharks encroach further and further from the water. The Nether is a literal hellscape - and Grian almost gets used to the feeling of burning to death. Almost.
And Scar, Scar is…wrong. He drifts along, as though he isn’t quite there all the time. He disappears, then reappears, once in front of Gem’s eyes - and she blinks, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. He falls asleep, or stands still, and seems to sit on the edges of the world itself, growing stranger and stranger. Grian can feel it. He’s not really there, not all of him.
When they’d been in the void, Grian had screamed for Scar, feeling the tug of the vortex already pulling him away. He’d grabbed out and touched his hand, reality bending and warping around them. He’d barely seen Scar’s wide, terrified eyes, before they’d been whisked from the black hole into the broken world they found themselves in. Scar had just made it. Or maybe he hadn’t. It was like he was half there, one foot inside the portal and one out - and as time went on and the world’s borders stretched and warped, so did Scar, drifting in and out of consciousness. Sometimes Scar found himself back home, except it wasn’t the right home, it was one he’d left years ago - and he’d wander aimlessly, utterly alone, before realizing it wasn’t right. He hopped between dreams and worlds, living and unliving, shadows and reality. Back in the strange place, the group grew increasingly anxious. Grian felt the hope he’d held for the End dwindling. He was powerless here. All of them were.
Then, finally, they have the Eyes of Ender. They knew how to do this part. Lizzie stayed with Scar while the others went out, trying to shove thoughts out of her mind of what might happen if they were to fall into the void. They make it to the stronghold, the place they need to be, and all they have to do is defeat the dragon - freeing the borders of the End, and letting them go. Only the dragon doesn’t look how it normally does. It wasn’t like Grian expected it to, anyways.
Six weeks in, and the compass is their last hope. If they can just get the echo shards, they’ll have a chance at killing the dragon. Gem has never liked the Deep Dark. It twists around her, whispering things in her ear and making her head hurt. Be careful, says Joel, as she leaves the camp with Grian and Jimmy. We need you. We need all of you to come back alive.
It’s near the very end, when Grian remembers. He feels the twinge of longing in his back muscles, the phantom pain of something that should be there that isn’t. He could fight the dragon, if he was truly himself, if he had access to it - and he wonders if it’s possible. He’s never done it without killing the dragon first. There’s a first time for everything, he supposes. He’s not sure why he takes Jimmy. Maybe it’s because they’ve been together now for longer than they’ve been in a long time, and Grian is holding on to the hope that maybe he can keep Jimmy safe, if he takes him home. Maybe it’s because he feels guilty, still, for Wild Life - he’d only been trying to keep him from getting to the end, but still, the anger had been real. The blood had been real. There was no changing that. Maybe it’s because Jimmy is his brother, and despite it all, Grian still trusts him. Jimmy has always been complicated like that.
When they get the wings, the feeling is magical. Grian feels the familiar magic course through his veins, and the feathers unfold from his back. It feels like taking a breath of fresh air again, arising from a deep and stagnant cave. Against all odds, here, in this broken, far away world where reality bent in on itself like a broken spring - Grian has wings, and Grian could fly.
How many weeks has it been? Grian doesn’t know anymore. He forces Scar to come with him, one last time. They would make one last journey to the stronghold. They were ready for it, this time. For once it felt good to fight together, and not against one another. Pearl’s shouts echo through the black landscape, and Joel and Lizzie take swings side by side, no longer feeling the sting of death as they roll between hits. Gem fires arrow after arrow, and Grian and Jimmy weave through the great obsidian pillars, throwing themselves at the crystals, wincing to bear the explosion. The dragon has three lives. Grian is reminded, then, of a world far away - and he thinks, in a way, the answer is still to die. The universe works in a web of death and life. The Watchers aren’t the only power that exists out there. There are other forces at work, stranger than he can imagine, and as Grian lands the final blow, he feels the world around him shift, the borders change, and the End stretch out infinitely beyond him in a mass of dark void. As much as he hates it, it does feel like home. The Watcher’s voices echo in the darkness somewhere. Grian deliberately sounds them out.
Then they’re holding hands, standing in a circle, watching the dark, starless sky. Grian stares at the portal in the ground, a swirling mass of blue and black and endlessness, and knows that it will always lead the player back home. He feels that background presence start to lift, and he grips Jimmy’s hand tightly in his right hand, Scar’s in his left. Scar holds Gem, who holds Impulse, to Skizz, to Pearl, to Lizzie - and to Joel, whose grip on Lizzie and Jimmy is a little harder. In the back of his mind, he knows they have no home world. He wonders if they’ll make it back with them - or if they would once again be torn from him, transported somewhere else in the fabric of the universe. They couldn’t, he thinks, because right now, Joel’s grip is enough to hold the entire universe itself.
Gem looks to Pearl, just before they jump. Her eyes are shut, her face lined with quiet determination and concentration, her hair pulled back and tangled from the fight. Gem thinks she might forgive her.
Then they jump, the nine of them, all holding each other, just like they did in the void, just like they did when Wild Life ended. Worlds spin past them like grains of sand in a vast ocean. A thousand sunrises pass by in the blink of an eye, and Joel feels Jimmy and Lizzie start to drift away from him - but he pulls them in, holding on for dear life, clenching his eyes as the colours swirl around him. Grian knows the Watchers are out there somewhere, no doubt trying to steal him away. They can try, he thinks, surrounded by his friends. In reality, no Watcher can even come close to them now. Love disgusts the Watchers. It repels them. Scar had always said that is what made Grian human still, despite it all. Scar looks at Grian, a single constant in the spinning mass, and feels himself fall back together, like pieces of a puzzle.
It is sometime in late winter, maybe early Spring. The snow is starting to melt here, and new shoots of grass are just barely emerging from beneath the dry bed of last year’s growth. Stars blink down over the lawn, where nine people lay, hand in hand, breathing hard. A light flickers on from a window a few feet away, where Hypno sits up in bed, wondering what the sound outside is that has woken him. The gentle glow of a Lighthouse hums in the distance. Mumbo rolls over, waking from the strangest dream he’s had in his life. Etho meets the eyes of Tango, still awake and drinking over a game on the table, and he feels something shift, like a slight pull at the back of his chest. Xisuma pulls the curtains back from his window and looks out toward the group of people in the distance, and smiles. He’d known it before they’d even landed.
Joel, still holding the hands of Lizzie and Jimmy, still feeling the sting of the sword and the rush of blood and the hope and loss and finality of Wild Life, starts to laugh.
hey if you read this far I love you!!! just wanted to get my thoughts out on the impossible lore, without doing a tumblr textpost word vomit lol. you can read this on ao3 if you'd like, I love the comments!
#This is me getting my thoughts out about the impossible Lore btw#impossible minecraft#wild life smp#life series#hermitcraft#hermitcraft fanfic#watcher lore#watcher grian#grian#jimmy solidarity#smallishbeans#spark writes#fic#tw unreality#unreality
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for raphtav: long and indulgent makeout session with bonus dry humping
“You know,” said Tav, soft and sweet, lingering like what she hoped was an alluring shade in his peripheral, “today's something of a special day, in the mortal realm.” “Really.” Raphael's tone was completely disinterested. He didn't even glance up from the book he was reading, blind to the suggestive way she was dressed: a shirt loosely buttoned up (one of his) and small-clothes. Her long legs bare. She still had that messy, fresh-out-of-bed look she knew he liked. She also knew he was aware of the date, but was feigning ignorance to tease her. To annoy her. Simply because he could. Any of those reasons were valid for Raphael.
“I never cared about it much before, but…” She took his visage in, relaxed in his handsome human skin, manspreading on his fancy couch in only a pair of trousers but still immaculate. The concept of morning, noon and night didn't exist in Avernus, but in the House of Hope Raphael made the rules, and the rules said it was a lazy and quiet morning. “This time is different.”
“Is that so.”
“Yes.” Tav approached, reached for the book; it was a testament to how indulgent and amused he felt that he allowed her to slide the book from his hands and close it, putting it to the side. At last he looked at her, deep and soulful honey-brown eyes like inescapable sinkholes glimmering with interest, consuming her slowly from her toes to her crown, boiling her blood and raising the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “I feel like celebrating today.”
“And why is that?”
“It's a holiday for lovers, you see.”
Raphael's mouth quirked. “Do you have a lover, pet?”
“I don't know,” crooned Tav, stood between his legs, smoothed her thumb across his thin but plush bottom lip. “Do I?”
She gasped when he took it between his teeth and sucked. “Any lover of yours would be quite the catch indeed, I imagine,” he rumbled, “greedy as you are, you wouldn't settle for anything less.”
“Greedy,” she repeated, sighing when Raphael's big, warm hands slid up her calves and the tender backs of her thighs to cup her ass. He squeezed those cheeks until she grunted. “I'm greedy, huh?”
“Very much so.”
He was right. Seeing him there, powerful and gorgeous and within her grasp, Tav wanted. And so she took. He was her catch, after all. She slid one hand into his silky soft hair and rested the other on his broad shoulder so that she could lean down and hungrily press her mouth against his. She felt him smile, a smug and satisfied thing, but then he was kissing back, just as hungry as she.
Hot and hard presses of lips that grew slick with spit, again and again and again, the tip of his fine nose pressed against her cheek with the tilt of his head, each puffing breath dusting across her face. It was she who opened her mouth first, she who invited his tongue, silver and slippery and sometimes forked, in behind her teeth so she could bite and suckle desperately on it. He liked that; groaned huskily, a sound that she swallowed and answered with one of her own, unable to help herself. He was an excellent kisser, of course. He was good at anything he decided to put effort in. Rotten bastard, Tav thought with a violent rush of affection that he absolutely didn't deserve.
She wanted to be closer to him, so she straddled his lap, knees either side of his waist. The hand on his shoulder drifted to his chest, fingers tangling in the wiry patch of hair across his pecs. When Tav lowered herself, pressed their crotches together with her full weight, she was delighted to discover Raphael's cock was already beginning to fatten. She rolled her hips, the thin barrier of her underwear and the thicker barrier of his trousers creating delicious friction for her clit that was peeking from its hood, enticed – as always – by the devil. Raphael grabbed a fistful of her hair at the back of her head and yanked, breaking their kiss with a wet smack. A thin ribbon of saliva kept them connected despite the way Tav squealed.
“Filthy little harlot, aren't we,” he muttered, forcing her head to tilt. He licked the length of her neck from collarbone to chin, focused on her pulse point where her heart thundered, blood flow so close to the surface. He nuzzled, took a sharp breath, kissed and nipped at the tender skin like he was thinking about biting her throat open and gorging on arterial spray. Or creating another hole to fuck. Or both. It shouldn't have excited Tav, but she'd long come to terms with the fact that she was peculiar. Her whole body shuddered. Raphael chuckled huskily, his hold on her hip iron and bruising. Bruises she would press on and reminisce in the coming days. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils completely blown. He smelled musky, like cherries and burning candle wicks and wine and sweat. He was utterly intoxicating.
“You make me this way,” Tav breathed. Beneath her palm, his own heart thudded, strong and steady. She, like a wanton whore, ground herself against the full, stiff erection now tantalising between them. How easy it would be to open his trousers and free his pretty, leaking cock, to take it to hilt deep inside her cunt and ride until she came all over him, but there was something enticing about rubbing like this. She knew Raphael's penis – both human and devil – intimately; had touched it, tasted it, felt it, watched it, as it throbbed and spurted ropes of hot cum. The idea that he might do it in his trousers like a randy schoolboy, this prim and proper devil creaming himself as she shamelessly humped him, was a truly thrilling one. An idea that soaked Tav's underwear embarrassingly easily. This beautiful and monstrous creature obliterated all her inhibitions without even trying.
“Do I,” he hummed. She felt his dick twitch. Possessive and egotistical, nothing got him going quite like flattery.
You make me crazy, Tav wanted to say, but even as far gone as she was, she knew that would be giving him far too much power over her. Over her heart. So instead she leaned in to reignite their kiss, sloppy and heated, this time slipping her tongue into the moist cavern of his mouth before it could get her into any more trouble.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#raphael bg3#bg3 raphael#baldurs gate 3#fanfic#raphael x tav#raphael the cambion#cringe#happy valentines day raphael my beloved terror
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Hellooo!! For your valentines letter event, can I please request Sabo, one piece, with fem!reader? Any pet name is okay except for baby/bae/babe etc. As for the relationship I just want it to be mutual pining where the reader is a pirate (straw hats or unspecified, i don't mind) and because he is in the revolutionary army, it's not often they see eachother. For the tone it's comfort from being so far away and adoration, he's just too afraid to actually confess when he can't physically be with reader. I'd prefer angst with comfort :). Location is long distance. Other info: they've known each other since they were children, and Sabo has just always had feelings for reader + she has always had feelings for him too, which they always got teased for by Ace and Luffy🙈 I hope this is specific enough! Thank you so much in advance!!! I'm gonna be giggling and kicking my feet as I wait in patience 🫡
Adoring Letter from Sabo to His Crush
This event is now CLOSED, but you can view the masterlist for the other letters here.
| Pairing: Sabo x Fem!Reader| Genre: angst | Post-Type: Letter | Word Count: 515 |
Warnings: long distance love, forbidden love??? Idk man
Note: HI! Fed my soul by requesting something for one piece, thank you! I took this as him not directly confessing to her, but kinda hinting at it…hopefully I got that right, bc girl I would have made Y/N jump into a row boat and row her way to Sabo’s side if he actually confessed heheh.
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It was a beautiful day on the Thousand Sunny, the sun was shining, the waves were calm, and the crew was absorbed in their own activities for the day.
You glanced out at the waves, leaning your head on the deck rails, sighing. You missed Sabo…
“Y/N, you have a letter from Sabo, he had one of the news coo birds drop it off,” Nami grins, a knowing smirk on her face. “Perhaps a love letter~?” She teases.
Of course she knew how you felt about the second in command of the Revolutionary Army.
“Stop it…it’s not like that,” you grumble, taking the envelope from her.
Though the mention of Sabo makes Luffy’s ears raise and he runs over in excitement.
“A letter from Sabo! I wanna read it too! Y/N let me read it!!” He whines, his rubber arms stretching out towards you, in which you gently push them away.
“No…he wrote this for me,” you could feel your cheeks reddening, as Luffy and Nami began teasing you again.
It takes a while to shoo them away, going back to your shared cabin with Nami and Robin which was thankfully empty as you open the letter to begin reading it;
Y/N,
Hey lovely. Hope Luffy and the rest of the crew are doing a great job taking care of you over there. Can’t have you getting hurt now can we?
Since we reunited a few months ago, I couldn’t help but think of you and miss you…though I shouldn’t.
You’re great, you know that? Beautiful, caring, hilarious, I realized in that moment, when all my memories came back to me how much I missed those moments. How much I missed you. So many years have passed, all time I missed without you, and yet…distance continues to grow between us even now that you’re in my mind.
I want- no…i can’t. I hope one day things are different. When this world is safe again, when my job here is over. But I can’t ask you to wait for me, just know that you’re in my heart. Always. No matter how much ocean lies between us, you’ll always have my heart. So be happy and be free, and know that I’ll always be here to support you.
Yours,
Sabo.
The letter was short, but weighed heavily on your heart.
Idiot, you thought to yourself.
As if you could just forget him and move on. You’d wait for him for as long as you’d need to. At least now you knew he felt something towards you, yet pushed you away just because he couldn’t be by your side. How stupid.
“I’d rather call you mine, then not be yours, despite the distance. It’s not like we’ll never see each other again,” you huff to yourself, getting a pen and paper ready.
Maybe this letter will get lost at sea, or hopefully it’ll make its way back to Sabo. You hold his letter to your heart as you begin writing one yourself, pouring out your heart to the man it belonged to. It always belonged to him.
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Posted: 2/14/2025
#one piece x reader#op x reader#sabo x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#one piece drabble#op x you#op x y/n#op drabble#sabo x you#sabo x y/n#sabo drabble
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Alexandria may not have been Cass' favorite person in the world but what had happened to her. Well, what they were assuming had happened, was awful. She'd just been another victim of the awful sub-society that their families all subscribed to. He wondered briefly if his and her's and Apollo's family's maybe had been afforded another opportunity there could have been different ways, different outcomes. Different thems. There were a lot of things Cas was wishing for in that moment, one specifically was to know how Orion was that damn powerful to be able to do that. Perhaps he's not just a junkie. He could ask all those questions of Oliver later on, he knew he'd answer now if he'd asked but they'd already lost enough time.
"So," He started softly, smoothing his hands gently along Oliver's back. He was mindful of how he touched him as he was still trying to piece together how the hell any of this was possible. He supposed that was the beauty and horror of magic. "W-what happened to Alex .. ?" He asked, knowing damn well he'd already known the answer. Apollo was absolutely going to lose his fucking mind when he found out about this. The blonde's head whipped towards the cellar door and another pang of regret washed over him again. This day could go straight to hell for all he cared. As a matter of fact, if he'd wake up right then and there and this was all a nightmare, he'd be so damn grateful but he knew that wasn't going to happen.
Cass immediately took to burying his head in Oliver's neck, apologizing as he did so for any discomfort he caused. How the hell could a little boy cry out like that? How could anyone hurt someone so vulnerable and .. his thoughts trailed off as Cass inhaled his boyfriend's scent and got as close as humanly possible. He had had it bad growing up. A backhand to the mouth every now and then and some truly disgusting words that a child should never hear but it hadn't been like that.
It was moments like this that had Isaac questioning whether or not he truly deserved the things that came into his life. And this one was about that beautiful little boy. But this was more to do with how he came to be in the world. It had been him. And if he expressed this thought to Apollo he'd assure that that wasn't the case and that Theodore would have always been. It would have been in the design. But as Isaac stood there, arms wrapped around his own middle he knew it had been his fault. Alexandria and Apollo were meant to get married. They should have been married and that little boy would have been Apollo's. But Isaac found a man following him one night and from that night on, he was never able to stop luring him on and towards their future. He'd been so good at it that he'd even managed to incorporate little bits of Apollo's bleed over now too.
Isaac was quiet, letting Oliver comfort Cass and vice versa. They all needed a minute he thought. And so he spelled up a basin of warm water a few wash clothes to clean the two up when they were ready. His gaze still hadn't really left the chubby little cherub face that had come to disrupt his whole life that afternoon. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as Isaac took a wash cloth in one hand and wetted it. He wondered, briefly, if Alexandria had spelled the little boy to look like Apollo for that reason as well. Had she known what was coming for her? He hoped now. Even after everything, Apollo had assured him that he and her hadn't ended on bad terms. Even gave him life updates sometimes. But he was starting to wonder if it had been Apollo lying to him about this or her lying to Apollo and that whole slue of events.
"Di' ya see anythin' else, Oli'va?" Isaac asked softly, tearing his gaze from the child to the cellar door. Without a word, Isaac raised his hand and it popped open. Apollo needed to be up here. Isaac just hoped that Cassio knocking him out was enough to knock the veela magic from his system. For as frustrating as this day had been, at least he knew now for certain that that wasn't something they could play with in the bedroom. Which wasn't ideal but Isaac was not ready for repeat of whatever the hell happened today. "Apollo?" Isaac hollered, looking over towards Oliver and Cassio to see the daggers they were staring. "I will ta'e ca'e o' 'im if nee' be." He assured them, moving closer towards the door just in case. "Bu', was tha' all o' it? Not'in' else?"
Oliver tuned out Isaac and Cassio. He had to. He couldn’t focus on that situation when he had Theo before him and was almost ready to start the spell. His eyes scanned over everything one last time. The symbols he had drawn were correct; Isaac had muddled the paste into perfect condition. Oliver willed his hands to stop shaking. I can do this, he reminded himself. I have to do this.
He dipped his fingers into the paste, drawing a circle on his forehead, then drew a line through it. He then reached for Theo, drawing the same symbol on his forehead. “Get behind me,” Oliver instructed them both. “Once I start chanting, the spell will start, and Theo’s mind will open up to me. Think about it like a pensieve, except I can see any memory he holds in his head instead of a specific one.” He turned to look between Isaac and Cassio. “But don’t touch me during the spell, no matter what, okay? If anything distracts me while I’m looking into his brain, I could damage it. I don’t know what will happen. I’ve never seen Orion perform this spell or what happens once I’m inside his mind, but even if I’m screaming in pain and begging you guys to pull me out, don’t. I can handle it.”
Then Oliver only had eyes for Cassio—his brave, strong, wonderful boyfriend. A part of him didn’t want Cassio to be in the room, not when he didn’t know what the spell would do to him, but the more significant part needed the strength of his boyfriend’s presence. “Hey,” He spoke softly, puckering his lips and blowing the man a kiss. “It’ll be okay, Cass. I’ve got this.”
“Okay,” He sighed, turning back to look at Theo. Oliver laced his fingers, bending them inwards and cracking his knuckles. When he opened his eyes, his mind was clear. He was ready.
He started the spell; the Latin words fell from his lips softly. He repeated the phrase repeatedly as he slowly lowered his hands to press his fingertips against the sides of Theo’s head. The room grew warm as the spell started, and with a sharp air intake, Oliver’s head fell back, and his eyes went completely black. He found himself inside the boy’s mind. Memories, like film reels, circled him. He couldn’t see anything - not Isaac, Cassio, or even the room he had been in. Oliver studied the memories surrounding him and noticed quickly that they were blurry compared to others. He reached out and touched one and was transported into it.
Theo was sitting in his bedroom, playing with his toys. He reaches for one, but his little arms can’t extend that far. He pushes himself harder but topples forward, smashing his face into another toy that comes to life. A song floods the room. Theo flinches and rolls to his feet, running into the closet and closing the door. He isn’t in the closet for more than a second before thumping footsteps approach, and the door slams open. Oliver flinches at the sound. A man is standing there, his eyes cold and evil. He’s looking around the room, searching. His eyes land on the closet, and Oliver’s heart races as he opens the door and drags Theo out by the back of his neck.
Theo screams.
Oliver screams.
The next memory is the same. Oliver feels Theo’s fear as if it were his own, but he pushes through it, going from memory to memory. One constant in each of them: Theo ends up being hurt. Oliver ends up being hurt.
“Theo,” Oliver is pulled into a memory, unlike the others. This one feels safe. Theo is wrapped in his mother’s arms. He loves her completely. He just wishes they didn’t have to hurt all of the time. “I have to tell you a story.” He listens; stories are his favorite. This one is about a boy who grew up with two dads, and in this adventure, they were throwing a surprise party. Theo loves his mom, but sometimes he wishes to be the boy with two dads. They never hurt him.
She’s planting memories in his head, Oliver recognizes. It hits him, and he knows what she did, how she protected Theo, how she gave him up.
Oliver severs the tie between him and Theo’s mind.
In the present, Oliver immediately wipes his face clear of the cooling tears. “I know what happened.” His voice is hoarse. Had he been screaming? His body aches, and with a glance down, he knows why. Oliver was also injured in every memory he entered in which Theo was hurt. There are a handful of handprint bruises on his forearms; his cheek feels swollen, and the back of his neck is bruised. He turns to find Cassio, his breathing quickening and quickening until Oliver is grasping for air, but he can’t get anything in. He can’t inhale deep enough.
Oliver crawls towards Cassio, but his panic doesn’t stop until his arms are around his boyfriend’s waist. “Theo’s real dad is abusive.” He keeps one arm around Cassio and throws the other arm out so Isaac can see. “Insanely abusive. To Theo and Alexandra. I think it got to the point where she knew it would end up with them dead at his hands. Alexandra altered all of Theo’s memories to include you and Isaac. She would tell him stories about a little boy and his two dads. She was writing these memories in his head so he wouldn't be scared when she found an opportunity to get him away. He would know you guys, know us. Theo loved his mom, he loves her so much, but he was so fucking scared. He loved those stories. He wanted to be the boy in those stories. He…” Oliver closed his eyes as fresh tears slipped out. “He just wants a family. He wants to be loved. And she knew that. She didn’t think they could escape him, so she saved Theo. She sent him to the two people she knew would do everything possible to keep him safe, who would love him like she did.”
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Rose Tinted — Boo Seungkwan
✧ Take off those rose colored glasses ✧
Plot: Picture this… you find out that your so-called best friend has been playing you all along.
🎥 Starring: fem!reader x best friend!Boo Seungkwan 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, asshole vernon, asshole kwannie (sorry y’all), brief mention of blood but not graphic 🎥 Notes: I am baaaack (hopefully for a while). I know I haven’t been posting for forever but I hope to see you all more often again ^^ 🎥 Shout out: thanks to my lovely bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for motivating me to write again 💜 love you Chee! Never change pls hehehe
♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡
Set The Scene Masterlist — Masterlist
“How much longer are you going to keep this up, dude? She’s been glued to your side since that dumb bet. Weren’t you gonna ditch her like forever ago?”
Time froze as you heard Vernon utter those words to your best friend… or so you thought.
“Shit, Vernon! Be quiet before she hears you!” Seungkwan hissed in return, which was followed by a dull sound and then a shriek from Vernon.
“Whatever. I just don’t get it. You don’t even like her. She could offer to buy me unlimited pizza and beers and I still wouldn’t be able to handle all that clinginess.”
“Fucking hell! Just get out and don’t come back until we leave. You’re going to fuck up everything,” Seungkwan snapped, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard coming from his lips.
“Fine.” Vernon sighed dramatically. “But don’t come crying to me when it all comes to bite you in the ass.”
A second later, you heard the front door slam shut, the sound of which snapped you right back to the horrible reality you were now forced to face.
You’d just been shown a completely different side of your supposed best friend and you didn’t quite know whether to cry or scream. What you did know was that you couldn’t stay hidden behind the wall for forever, even though that did seem awfully tempting. You’d never been very confrontational but this matter couldn’t be left unspoken, not if you wanted to keep your sanity.
You needed to hear the truth from Seungkwan himself.
With your heart nearly pounding out your chest and a million thoughts running through your mind, you forced your legs to move in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan was awaiting your return.
His head immediately shot up when he noticed you approaching him, a smile that felt just a little too forced making its way on his face. It was almost as if you could see a sliver of disgust flash behind his eyes.
Had that always been there or were you just overanalyzing everything because of what Vernon said?
“There you are! Any longer and I would have gotten worried.” Seungkwan chuckled as he turned his head back towards the TV.
Right. The movie the two of you had been watching before that awful conversation. If only you could turn back time.
“Y/N?” Seungkwan asked with a raised brow when you hadn’t moved at all. “Aren’t you going to sit down? We can finish the last thirty minutes before we have to leave.”
“No.”
Your voice was barely audible but you knew that it had been loud enough judging by the way Seungkwan responded.
“No? You don’t want to watch any more? Well, we can put on something else if that’s what you wan-”
You were quick to interrupt him. “No. That’s not what I want.”
“Okay?” He got up from the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting kinda strange, Y/N. What’s going on?”
Without realizing it, you’d been clenching your fists so hard this entire time that your nails had pierced through parts of your skin, drawing a little bit of blood which you could feel dripping down your fingers. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now.
“Do you hate me?” you blurted out, completely catching the man in front of you off guard.
“W-what? Hate you? Why would you ask me that?” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, his hand awkwardly coming up to scratch behind his neck.
“Be honest with me, Seungkwan.” You looked him dead in the eyes, noticing the way his eyes grew wide at the fierceness behind your words.
As if suddenly coming back to himself, he shook his head furiously. “You’re being crazy, Y/N.”
You let out a loud snort. “Me? Crazy? Then are you saying Vernon was lying just now?”
At that revelation, Seungkwan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was about to say something but backed out at the last second. There was no talking himself out of this. And you were not backing down until you’d heard everything, even if it was going to crush you.
“Yeah… I heard everything. About a supposed bet, about you pretending this entire time and wanting to ditch me. Does that ring a bell?”
“Y/N, l-listen,” the man pleaded as he took a step forward to reach for your arm.
“Tell me the fucking truth, Seungkwan!” you nearly screamed, surprising both yourself and him at the anger laced in your voice.
You could see the hesitation in his eyes at first, but it wasn’t long before that disgust you swore you’d seen before flashed behind his eyes once again.
“You really wanna know what I think of you? Fine!” He threw up his hands. “I don’t like you, I never have, not then and not now. I’m not your fucking best friend and I’m sick of pretending. You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet to see if I could befriend you, but with how fucking desperate you were, that wasn’t hard. And then you just wouldn’t fucking go away so I thought, I might as well use your clingy ass to my advantage. Because who in their right mind doesn’t like free meals and free rides? All I had to do was pretend.” He chuckled bitterly. “Happy now?”
You didn’t stick around to respond, already halfway through the door with tears streaming down your face by the time he finished his cruel rant. This wasn’t the sweet and caring Seungkwan you’d been sharing all your secrets and insecurities with. This was the real Seungkwan, a mean, heartless excuse of a human being who you didn’t recognize at all.
He’d broken your heart in a million little pieces and you didn’t know if you were ever going to recover from this.
So much for letting someone in.
So much for not wanting to be alone.
Boo Seungkwan, I hope it was worth it.
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#STS with CheeJi#svthub#thediamondlifenetwork#seventeen angst#svt angst#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seungkwan x reader#boo seungkwan x reader#k-vanity#seventeen scenarios#seventeen fics#seventeen imagines#svt au#seventeen#seungkwan imagines#boo seungkwan#svt seungkwan#fic: rose tinted
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Skittles and Ghosts - Roman Godfrey x Reader - Chapter 1
Synopsis: A colorful happy go lucky girl comes to disrupt the life of the brooding school heart-throb Roman Godfrey. With her kindness and bluntness, she crept into his heart. But in the small town of Hemlock Grove, something eerie is about to happen; when Brooke Bluebell dies on school grounds, Roman, Peter and the new girl form an unlikely bond to unveil what really happened. A love story flourishes amidst the chaos raised by a vengeful ghost.
Genre: humor, fluff, smut (later chapters), horror, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn.
Trigger Warnings: blood, drugs, alcohol, death, sex, foul language.
Word count: 1460
Special thanks to @kingkat12 , @mentallyscreamingsincebirth , @carmillavalentine and @peachesinto —you inspired me in many ways, and I’m glad our paths have crossed. 💕
( @roman-godfrey , such an inspiring character! Mwah! )
I still need a proofreader... Also, it starts from Roman's pov, then switches to reader's pov.
⊹ ₊ ⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡˚₊‧⁺ ₊ ⊹
There’s a rainbow in Pandora's Box. Isn’t that the worst kind of chaos to be unleashed?
⊹ ₊ ⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡˚₊‧⁺ ₊ ⊹
Not that any of my days were exactly peaceful, but that day in particular seemed uneventful. Miraculously I woke up and Olivia was not hovering over me. That alone was a relief! I made breakfast for Shelley and I, because mommy dearest never tended to us, and couldn’t be bothered to hire someone. Buying another Birkin was more important than having her children taken care of, I guess. Shelley seemed happy… That was all that mattered. In fact, there were only four people in the world I cared about: Shelley, Peter, Letha, and myself. The rest of the world could be set on fire for all I cared! Other people be damned!
I drove us to school, and then went to find Peter at our usual spot. It was the first day of school after summer break, everyone around us seemed thrilled, and needless to say I found the whole ordeal burdensome to say the least. I lit up a cigarette and took a drag, inhaling deeply, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs… Would it help me die sooner? I hoped so. It was soothing. Peter was talking some nonsense and I wasn’t paying much attention, but I laughed anyway. Little did I know those were my last few moments of harmony, before the whole world collapsed under the abnormally tiny feet of none other than the devil’s spawn… There she was, like a walking box of crayons, as if someone had thrown up skittles all over her; she was wearing a yellow tank top, a pink skirt, red Converse sneakers, and a baby-blue cardigan over her shoulders. Each of her nails was painted with a different color and I’m pretty sure there was also glitter on top. Ironically, her makeup was soft, she wasn’t wearing anything too bright on her face… I realized how weird it was that I was paying so much attention to a girl’s outfit and makeup. I frowned, deep in my thoughts, and that was when the little cursed gremlin had the nerve to smile at me! Smile, mind you, with all her 385 teeth exposed, as if something on my face had amused her. Great! I must look like a clown!
Hell is a color explosion on two legs. I was sure of it. And she walked all over me with those bloody red Converse sneakers, crushing my hopes of normalcy. Of course she would be in my class… Every weird freak in Hemlock High was in my class. To my dismay, the teacher pointed her to the seat next to mine. I almost threw up. I caught myself staring at her face because, I swear, she had glitter all over her cheeks. My face was pure horror, but somehow she misread it, because she smiled again. So polite… I hate polite people! You can’t fool me, you little phony!
-*-
I would have to be an unlucky motherfucker to be paired up with the brand new colorful stroke for the Literature assignment. But again, of course that would be my fate. So now, after being dragged down to the library through the school hallways, I was sitting across this unhinged pastel color psycho. She was on and on about her seven thousand different ideas, making my head hurt. I pinched the bridge of my nose trying to gather my thoughts, but her chime-like voice was too disruptive. I need a smoke!
“Aw, don’t be upset! We’re gonna finish this in no time! It’s easy! You could come over to my place after school, we can have chocolate cake and finish this.” Again, that wide off-putting smile that made me sick. How many teeth does she have?
I rolled my eyes, leaned in closer to her, looking into those ridiculously big eyes, as I said: “Read my lips: we are not friends!”
She tilted her head like a kitten, narrowing her eyes for a brief second, and then, those marbles lit up like the Eiffel Tower as she averted her gaze to her backpack. She was looking for something and I had an inkling it would be bad. I flinched. She grabbed a sticker sheet, of all things, pinched a small purple sparkly star and glued it to my cheek! My stomach churned. I was dumbfounded, speechless at her cluelessness, and possibly traumatized.
She stood up as if nothing had happened, gathered her belongings, and headed towards the library’s door. But as she was about to leave, she turned on her heels and spoke cheerfully:
“See you at 7?”
It wasn’t a question. She was pretty positive that I would indulge in her nightmarish ideas.
Before I had time to utter the words ‘no way in hell’, the Beelzebub’s baby left.
-*-
Of course I didn’t go to her house!
I would rather run a cheese grater over my skin than spend even five minutes with that girl! But when befriending me proved to be a dead end, she befriended Peter–the traitor! With that sly face, she occupied my smoking spot, with my best friend. The jerk was laughing at something she was saying in that annoying high-pitched voice. I wanted to smash something, but I was not about to give her the satisfaction. So I walked over to them, greeting Peter and blatantly ignoring her. But the girl can’t seem to take a hint; she nudged me to call my attention as I lit up my cigarette. I puffed smoke right on her face as I looked down at her, trying to convey the extent of my disgust, to no avail. She coughed, to my amusement, but the solace I found in her suffering didn’t last long… Smiling at me, in a way that made me feel nauseous, she began to talk to me… Something about dinosaurs… By the way Peter was laughing, I’m pretty sure the look on my face was priceless. Double homicide suddenly seemed like a valid option. My brain was chanting for her to just disappear already!
How could someone gesticulate so much–and be so flamboyant–was the question that echoed in my head as the three of us walked towards Math class. She wouldn't shut up about the damned dinosaurs. Forget double homicide, I will just disappear; being kidnapped can’t possibly be this bad.
I begged, literally begged, Peter to ditch the next class with me. I needed a joint to ease the headache induced by the satan’s intern fashion choices.
As Peter rolled me a doobie, I lit another cigarette,
“What’s up with you and the human highlighter?” I asked, nonchalantly and Peter frowned at me. He bit the insides of his cheeks, scanning my face, as if trying to psychoanalyze me.
“She’s ok… I guess? Why?” He responded after a few seconds, shrugging as he lit up the blunt, then puffed the smoke in circles. But his eyes still held that weird hint of something I couldn’t really pinpoint, but somehow I knew he was having fun with this.
“No reason…” My answer ended the conversation about the subject.
-*-
“Hey, sunshine, did you buy your clothes at the flea market?”
I didn’t have to look to know who was talking to whom. That poor excuse of a dumbfuck, Ryan, was taunting the walking Skittles. His tone got to my bloodstream, making it seethe. He was voicing my opinions in a way, but I abhorred the guy even more than I loathed her. Involuntarily, my hands clenched into fists as I turned to face Ryan. I caught a glimpse of her, and it was more than enough for me to realize that she was about to cry. It made me unreasonably angrier. Peter’s eyes darted from me, to Ryan, to Skittles, and back to me.
“Hey, dipshit,” my voice was calculated. I closed the distance between me and them in two long strides. “Start apologizing.”
Ryan and his posse began to laugh, but their amusement didn’t last when I towered over them, my mouth turning into a wide grin as his eyes widened. I looked deep into his eyes and my next words were not a polite request:
“Kneel down and kiss her feet.”
Everyone around gasped as he did just as he was told, kneeling down in front of her and leaning in to kiss her shoes. His friends howled, not believing their eyes.
“Now, fuck off!” I barked, and again, they did as they were told.
I was pretty satisfied with the outcome, until I felt that familiar warmth dripping from my nose…
“You are bleeding!” She squealed. In seconds, she had a pink handkerchief pressed against my nose. Her flowery, fruity scent invaded my nostrils like a wrecking ball. Her eyes were wide in worry, her mouth agape in sheer horror.
Now she thinks I’m her friend. Shee-it…
#roman godfrey#hemlock grove#roman godfrey x reader#smut in later chapters#fluff#slow burn#enemies to lovers#fanfiction
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Plastered
_________________________________________
where Liam needs some help to find the courage on Valentine's Day.
_________________________________________
Liam sat slumped on his couch, flicking through channels on the TV without really watching anything. His mind kept circling back to you, the thought of confessing, the pressure building with every tick of the clock. It wasn’t like he’d never felt this way before—he’d been through the motions with women before—but this... this felt different. And fuck, he wasn’t ready for that. What if she doesn't feel the same? What if I make a tit of meself?
He sighed heavily and glanced at the clock again. It was mid-afternoon, and you’d mentioned you were staying in tonight. That was his window. He had a plan, he just had to make sure it went well. Nothing too grand—just a simple, honest conversation. Yeah, right. Simple.
Just as he was stewing in his thoughts, the door buzzer rang.
Liam groaned, his fingers drumming on the arm of the couch. “What now?” he muttered to himself, dragging his feet over to the door.
When he opened it, Noel breezed in, cigarette already hanging from his lips. “Alright, dickhead,” Noel greeted with his usual smirk, not waiting for an invitation. “Got them papers for you. You know, the ones you’ve probably forgotten about 'cause you’ve been too busy pacing around this dump of a flat like a fucking madman.”
Liam rolled his eyes, stepping aside. “I’m not pacing around, I’m thinkin’.”
“Wrong, you're not capable of that.” Noel threw himself onto the couch, throwing the documents onto the little coffee table.
“I’ll get to 'em later. I’ve got stuff to deal with today.”
Noel raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Liam. “Stuff? Like what? You finally gonna man up and tell her you fancy her, or what?”
Liam shot him a glare, but Noel was already grinning like he knew something Liam didn’t. "Nah," Liam muttered, scratching his head. "Not like that. Just... yeah. You know. Think I’m gonna swing by hers later, innit."
“Swing by?” Noel chuckled, eyes narrowing. “So you’re just gonna turn up at her gaff, all confident, all ‘Hey, I fancy ya’, and expect it to go smoothly, yeah?”
Liam frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”
Noel laughed harder now. “Oh, you poor bastard. You’ve never been able to ask the bird out to lunch without getting all twitchy, let alone doin’ some grand confession on bloody Valentine’s Day.”
Liam bit his lip, already feeling the nerves creeping in. “I can do it, alright?”
Noel grinned, clearly loving how worked up Liam was getting. “You’re sure she’s even stayin’ in? She could be off out, mate. You’ve not even checked, have ya?”
Liam stared at him blankly. “I don’t—” he stammered, caught off guard. He hadn’t thought about that. “I mean… She said she was stayin’ in. Why would she suddenly change her plans?”
Noel’s smirk only grew wider. “Oh, who knows? Maybe someone actually asked her out. You ever think of that, Liam? She's not reserved for ya so plesse stop just stewin’ in here like a prat.”
Liam let out a grunt, clearly starting to get a bit frustrated. “I don’t need you to make me feel worse, alright?”
Noel laughed again, shaking his head as he stood up to leave. “Nah, mate. I’m just tellin’ ya how it is. But listen,” he added, turning back toward the door, “You really have to do this, she won't wait around forever for your nervous arse.”
Liam glared at him, his jaw clenching. “I’m not nervous.”
“Yeah, right,” Noel shot back, the playful glint still in his eyes. “You look like you'd benefit from a shot"
Liam blinked, his brain slowly processing what Noel had just said.
Noel grinned, mischief still dancing in his eyes. “Anyway, you better sort yourself out, yeah? You’ve got a date to ruin.” With that, he strolled out of the flat.
Liam stood there, processing it all for a second before returning to looking at the telly again, procrastinating any further planning.
Yet, as the evening crept closer, Liam’s nerves ramped up like mad. He had been fine, totally fine, but now, with the sun dipping below the horizon, the weight of what he was about to do hit him like a fucking train. His knee bounced restlessly as he sat on the couch, staring at the clock.
6:12 PM.
Shit. Less than an hour until he was meant to head over.
He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. His palms were clammy, his heart was hammering. He needed to get his shit together. What had Noel said? Right—have a shot. Just a little something to take the edge off. Sounded like solid advice.
So he did.
And then, because his stomach was still flipping and his brain was still screaming, he had another.
And then another.
And then… well, after the fourth one, things were starting to feel much easier.
By the time he glanced back at the clock, it was 6:54 PM.
His stomach dropped. “Oh, fuck.”
Scrambling to his feet, he nearly tripped over the coffee table as he grabbed his coat. He had no gift, no grand gesture, nothing. He had spent so much time spiraling over how to tell you that he’d forgotten to actually prepare anything. In a last-minute stroke of genius, he dashed outside, spotting a small patch of flowers behind someone's fence but close enough to reach.
“Ah, perfect.” he mumbled to himself, crouching down. They weren’t exactly the finest bouquet in the world, but they’d do. He yanked a few out of the ground, dirt and all, and—after wiping his hands sort of clean on his jeans—set off towards your place, swaying slightly as he walked.
When you opened the door, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of chaotic.
Liam stood there, swaying slightly, looking like he’d just been through something. His hair was sticking up in odd directions, his pupils were blown wide, and he smelled of booze. In his grip—barely—was a small, pathetic bundle of flowers, some of them missing petals, others still clinging to their roots.
You just stared at him for a second. “Liam?”
He opened his mouth, as if he had some grand declaration prepared, something sweeping and romantic, but all that came out was a strangled, “Oh, fuck, love, I’m so sorry.”
Your brows lifted. “For what?”
“For—” He gestured wildly at himself, the flowers, the whole tragic state of affairs he’d brought to your doorstep. “This! This whole—this whole fucking disaster! This is not how this was supposed to go, at all.”
Your lips twitched, but you managed to keep a straight face. “And how was it supposed to go?”
Liam let out a long, weary sigh, like he was personally disappointed in himself. “Well, not like this, obviously.” He rubbed a hand down his face before leveling you with a surprisingly serious look. “I had a plan, y’know.”
You just barely bit back a smile. “Did you now?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, swaying slightly with the movement. “I was gonna knock on your door all cool, say summat dead smooth, summat that’d make ya weak in the knees—‘cause let’s be real, I make ya weak in the knees, yeah?”
You let out a snort, and he pointed at you like he’d caught you in some kind of admission.
“Exactly,” he said. “But then—” He suddenly looked deeply betrayed. “Then Noel—”
He flung his arms out dramatically, like the mere mention of his brother’s name was enough to conjure bad luck. “He’s sittin’ in me flat, takin’ the piss, right? And I’m tellin’ him about tonight, proper serious, and he’s just laughin’ at me! Like I’m some kind of—I dunno—some kinda mug! And then he’s like, ‘Oh, just have a shot, mate,’ and I thought—yeah, alright, good shout.”
Your amusement only grew as he barreled forward with his confession.
“But then I kept havin’ ‘em,” Liam went on, his voice increasing in volume like he’d just realized the depth of his own mistake. “And then suddenly it’s, like, ten to seven, and I’m leggin’ it down the road, tryna find ya some flowers, and now—now—I’m here, stood in front of ya, absolutely fuckin’ wrecked, makin’ a right fool of meself.”
You couldn’t help it anymore—you laughed. Loudly.
Liam immediately froze, his face falling like you’d just punched him in the gut.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, looking properly crushed. His eyes darted everywhere but you, like he was already planning his escape.
Before he could spiral any further, you reached out, grabbing the front of his coat and tugging him closer.
“Oh, Liam,” you murmured, still grinning. “C’mere.”
His eyes flickered to yours, completely dazed, and then, just as quickly, he stumbled forward, colliding into you. His nose brushed against yours as you pressed your lips to his, and for a second, he didn’t react—almost like his brain couldn’t process what was happening. But then, all at once, his hands gripped onto your waist, pulling you closer, like he had to make sure this was real. He kissed you back with everything he had, and somewhere in the midst of it, the sad little bouquet in his hands slipped from his fingers, landing on the doorstep with a soft thud.
When you finally pulled away, he blinked at you, still swaying slightly.
“… Does that mean you’ll be me Valentine?” he asked, his voice soft, full of hesitant hope.
You tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear, smiling. “Of course, Liam.”
His face lit up, but then his brows furrowed, like something important had just dawned on him. “Wait—not just today, yeah? I mean it. I wanna be with ya—properly. Not just for Valentine’s, not just for now. Like… forever, or summat.”
You let out a snort. “Yeah, Liam, I’m not stupid. I know.”
That was all he needed. His lips crashed onto yours again, more urgent this time, like he was making up for all the time he’d wasted. His hands roamed—your waist, your back, anywhere he could get a grip—until finally, he pulled away with a sharp inhale.
You pressed your forehead against his, smiling as he blinked at you, still swaying slightly. His breath warm against your lips, and he looked just so pleased with himself.
You huffed a small laugh, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Come on, let’s get you inside, yeah? Get you some water before you fall over.”
Liam’s brows furrowed like he was debating whether he should be offended or grateful. Eventually, he settled on grinning, throwing an arm around you as you guided him inside. “Yeah, alright, but only ‘cause ya asked so nicely.”
_________________________________________
happy valentines day to all you lot, hope you liked it !!
noel valentine's story here x
#oasis x reader#oasis one shots#oasis band#britpop x f!reader#britpop x reader#britpop fanfiction#liam gallagher x reader#liam gallagher one shots#liam gallagher x you#liam gallagher fanfiction#liam gallagher x y/n#liam gallagher x f!reader#oasis fic#oasis fanfiction#britpop one shots#britpop x you
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𝒯𝑒𝒶𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝒸𝒽𝒾𝑒𝒻
Pairing: Seungmin x F!reader Genre: Romance, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pinning Warning: None
Masterlist
Teasing Mischief
It was a chilly February afternoon in Seoul, and the buzz of Valentine's Day was all around. Couples walked hand in hand through the streets, and the soft glow of heart-shaped decorations hung from every shop window. Seungmin found himself staring at his phone, biting his lip in thought. He had always found Valentine's Day to be a bit... cheesy, but this year was different. This year, Y/N had been on his mind constantly.
Seungmin and Y/N weren't officially anything. There was no label for what they were—just two people who enjoyed each other's company a bit too much. They spent hours texting, grabbing coffee together after classes, and teasing each other with jokes. But something about their dynamic was complicated. They were in a situation—somewhere between friends and something more—but neither had crossed the line.
Today, though, Seungmin decided to push it. He had teased her before, playfully sending her flowers with cheesy notes, but today he had something else in mind. He knew it would get a rise out of her, and honestly, he kind of liked seeing her flustered.
As he walked to the café where they usually met, he checked his phone again. Y/N had sent him a simple, “See you soon ;).” He grinned to himself. She had no idea what he had planned.
When he entered the café, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and pastries hit him. Y/N was sitting by the window, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes scanning her phone. She was wearing a soft sweater and a smile that always made Seungmin's heart skip a beat. His teasing would have to wait, but only for a moment.
"Hey, Y/N," Seungmin said, his voice light as he slid into the chair across from her.
"Hey, you," she responded, looking up with a playful glint in her eyes. "What’s with the smug smile? I can tell you're up to something."
"Me? Up to something?" Seungmin shrugged innocently, but his eyes sparkled mischievously. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. "You've been texting me all day, and now you're acting suspicious. Just spill it."
Before Seungmin could say anything, a barista approached their table with a small box wrapped in pink ribbon. He handed it to Y/N, who raised an eyebrow at Seungmin.
She took the box and untied the ribbon, revealing a heart-shaped chocolate inside. “You got me chocolates?”
Y/N smirked, holding it up with a teasing expression. “How cliché. You really are cheesy, huh?”
Seungmin couldn’t help but laugh. “Cliché? No way. It's a classic. And honestly, I thought you’d be more excited about it."
"Oh, I'm thrilled," Y/N said sarcastically, "but tell me, Seungmin... What's the catch?"
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening for a moment. "No catch, Y/N. Just a little something to remind you that I care."
She tilted her head, trying to read his expression. Seungmin had always been playful, but there was something different today. Something deeper behind his teasing smile.
“Do you really?” Y/N asked, her voice quieter now.
His heart skipped a beat at her words. He had been joking, sure, but when she asked him like that, it made him stop and think.
“I do,” Seungmin said, his tone more serious. “I really do.”
There was a silence between them for a moment as Y/N stared at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke, but finding none. Seungmin could feel the tension building, the air between them thick with unspoken feelings. He had always been good at hiding his emotions, but today, something inside him snapped.
"Y/N," he said, his voice a little quieter now. "I've been teasing you because... well, I don't know how to say this, but it’s not just about the chocolates or the jokes. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. And it's more than just a situationship or whatever you want to call it. It’s... it's something real. I like you."
She blinked, clearly caught off guard. For a moment, it seemed like she might say something witty in response, but her expression softened as she processed his words.
"You like me?" she repeated, her lips curling into a small smile. "Well, that's a relief. Because I’ve kind of been hoping you'd say that for a while now."
Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait... you have?"
Y/N nodded, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Yeah. I was just waiting for you to admit it."
Seungmin chuckled, feeling a mix of relief and disbelief. He had been worried about making things awkward, but instead, Y/N was smiling—her eyes filled with something warm. Something more than just friendship.
"So..." he said, leaning forward slightly, "does this mean you're saying yes?"
Y/N grinned, her voice soft but firm. "Yes, Seungmin. I'll be your Valentine. And maybe... something more."
The tension between them dissolved, replaced by something lighter. Something that felt just right. Seungmin grinned back, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He had finally said it—finally confessed to the one person who had been occupying his thoughts for far too long.
“I'm glad,” Seungmin said, his heart racing, but this time with excitement, not nerves. "Happy Valentine's Day, Y/N."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Seungmin," she replied, her smile wider now, as if the promise of something new was just beginning.
And for the first time in a long time, both of them knew that maybe, just maybe, this Valentine's Day was the start of something beautiful.
#skz#stray kids#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids x reader#seungmin x reader#seungmin stray kids#seungmin skz#seungmin fluff#kim seungmin#kim seungmin x reader#kim seungmin stray kids#kim seungmin skz
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I actually think that out of the two, Callum would have harder time understanding Ethari than Runaan for 2 main reasons.
1) Runaan and his motivations/past like an assassin is reminiscent of Rayla. They both won't be deterred from their duty, are willing (like Ezran and more so like Callum) willing to turn to violence/murder as a last resort. It's an idea that he's familiar with and seen his own family members participate in; while for Callum, it's usually been deeply personal (he wanted to hunt down Viren because Rayla did; Harrow killed Avizandum because of Sarai) it's still something he's seen up close and personal, and he knows how raised-as-an-assassin Rayla works. Even Ezran is more greater good/a collective protector focused. While he may not be like Runaan, Callum can understand Runaan. And given that Callum has also murdered people (3x09), been willing to be complicit in the murder of strangers in order to keep Rayla alive (5x08), and done dark magic repeatedly (which seems to be somewhat considered worse than just outright murder)... I think Runaan might end up being more surprised of what he's like rather than Callum struggling the other way around
2) He's been Ethari, but doesn't act like Ethari. The only reason he stayed at home by himself was because Rayla was missing and he had no real way to find her; the idea of letting his partner walk out the door to face danger alone in any real conceivable way is basically unfathomable to him until 4x09, and while he does let Rayla go, it is just about the only time we see him make that choice, and any time after that he is still routinely coming to her rescue/aid in all things. Secondly, there are direct parallels between his reunion (4x02/4x03) and reconciliation (4x09) with Rayla, in terms of initially being angry / walking away, and then taking her hand/hugging her and welcoming her back into their lives. He too has had a journey of accepting what Rayla is like about her duty, and that she may never change, and it is a 'necessary part of loving' her.
The main difference, however, is that Callum never walks out of her life in the first place. He attempts to go, but upon seeing her face he can't bring himself to, and he stays. Callum never gives Rayla significant reason to doubt him (hence her hopefulness at coming back and rekindling their relationship) or doubt that he'll help her (5x04 getting her to share her burdens with him, whereas in 7x04 with Runaan and Ethari at first she closes right back up). Ethari has one of the least non violent occupations in the series (even if it does involve making weapons), meanwhile Callum is a regular combatant as a mage and in general being willing to turn to violence/violent means. He loves specifically, as Ethari does, but isn't attached to Places so much as he is solely to people.
#moon fam#tdp callum#runaan#ethari#mine#mini meta#analysis series#analysis#snake boi callum#like he's their dorky weird intense af son in law#no he's not going to struggle with runaan being an Assassin#runaan and ethari are used to be him being dorky and helpful and nurturing#imagine the first time they see him Angry angry? like completely pissed (since runaan was unconscious for the torture)? or the mouth on him#yeah. yeah
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Still a thief at heart, stealing kisses (Patreon)
#Doodles#Gintama#Otose-san#Catherine#Gintoki#Are there any Otose/Catherine fans out there........Does anyone out there ship the old lady and her stray cat..........please.......#They're So cute weh their friendship is genuinely so wholesome I love them#I can't imagine why I'd be drawn to them it's a mystery#It's actually quite funny to me watching Gintama Now vs. when it came out#I definitely would've enjoyed it at the time! I can see it being a formative piece of me had I know about it then haha#But because it wasn't the way I engage with it now is very different - even without having experienced it I Know how it would've gone down#Hijikata/Ginchan are the obvious rivalship which was my Favourite at the time - then reevaluating later into polyshipping etc. etc. lol#I like Ginchan with Katsura and Zenzo as well to a degree :)#But really it's these two I ship so much...#I do think it's especially funny how they're used for comedy relief like ''Who would want to see these two as the main characters!''#Me I would I am raising my hand I love that they're actually friends and enjoy each other's company and like working together#They're not Cute in that fanservice kind of way - Otose-san is very pretty and elegant <3 And her voice is deep and gravely!#And Catherine's a petty asshole haha she's great ♪ She ignores others intentions on purpose to her own ends!#But she also might just actually be a bit dumb? She's very silly haha - and like I said they seem to really complement each other!#Ginchan really what were you hoping to get out of such a question lol#For a first time drawing him it's not so bad but his hair really is...something#I saw the how-to guide! I held it in mind! The amount of fluff is both too much and not enough...gotta make him soft-fluffier....#Also a bit funny to just me since for a bit I really did think Otose-san might've been Gin's mom lol#With how many scrappy little troublemakers she ends up adopting she might as well be! She's just too soft-hearted ♪#And he protects her because she's important to him too! It's sweet <3 Of course he'd want to watch out for her#She's doing fine lol - ewww grownups kissing hahaha
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(Gaymeatcore) Ough fellow ceroba was born with no tails/really small stumpy tails person. It's so interesting to me since for mythological kitsune's tails give them power so I feel like this would make it harder for ceroba to control her magic or maybe she's weaker than other kitsunes? I imagine kanako would've grown multiple tails had she grown older but oh well.
I like to think ceroba's magic instead goes in her hair and she has stronger magic when it's longer, wich is why she had shorter hair as a kid(see the teen pic) because her parents didn't want to deal with a little "unstable" kid with strong magic, especially fire magic.
I was gonna elaborate on it more with the other ask you sent me asking for my thoughts on Ceroba's family (don't worry, I haven't forgotten about it. It's still there) but I headcanon that Ceroba was the only kitsune in her family born without a tail. And since (in my headcanon world) kitsune tails are seen as markers for how powerful/wise/how much "potential" a kitsune will have in life, being born without a tail basically looks like she has no potential at all and is doomed to be a failure. Now, of course, this isn't true. It's just superstition. There is no unshakable quality (like your zodiac animal/zodiac sign/etc) that someone is born into that determines their personality and/or how well they'll do in life. You only know how well you'll do in life by living it. But that didn't stop her parents from taking it seriously and investing their time and attention more into her siblings who have a/multiple tails and are thus seen as "better" for it. Her parents are a bunch of shitty traditionalists :/
Ceroba tried to beat out those expectations by perfecting her magic (hence why she casts bullets which require such precise control to dodge and is pretty damn strong) and tried her hardest academically and everything to please her parents and make them look at her, but they wouldn't so much as look past the fact that she's tailless. So she gave up on them. And that's a massive factor in why she doesn't keep contact with them anymore.
Sometimes though, she still feels like the foolish, tailless, potential-less little kitsune that her parents saw in her......
#[rusty door hinge noises]#i have so many things i can say about what i headcanon out of her childhood home life but blegh. all i have in my skull is soup. no brain.#i hc that Ceroba isn't particularly superstitious and some of that is from growing up in a family that has these beliefs that hurt her#also her siblings are all different types of fucked up from the way that their parents raised them.#her siblings host get-togethers where they can exist without all those familial expectations and vent about how their childhoods sucked#and just chill together. they invited Ceroba to one of them but she was living with Chujin at the time and was like ''why talk to them?#I'm doing well in life. i have a wonderful husband. i don't need to talk to my siblings. screw them'' and ripped up the invite#and between not coming to that offer to hang out + getting married and not even inviting any of them her siblings feel#like she doesn't care/want them anymore. so they leave her be. it's a shame. if they attended (and they would've done so w/o#involving their parents bc they all know how they can be) they would've pooled all their magic together to give her a proper#kitsune no yomeiri#oh well. the Ceroba of nowadays would greatly benefit from reaching out to them but idk if she even knows where they live.#char: ceroba ketsukane
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It's been rolling around in my brain the last few days for some reason, but I still hate the family backstory reveals for Sophie and Eliot. I've seen some of the meta for it, but quite frankly, it still makes no sense. If it had been something actually thought of and intentional in the original, I think it could have been so fascinating. I mean, Sophie's willing abandonment of Astrid to contrast with Nate's loss of Sam or Eliot's adoption in contrast with Hardison's and Parker's? Could have been excellent! But they came out of nowhere in Redemption and don't work with these characters.
Sophie was still actively using the fucking alias that she met Astrid under! She met with someone from her past on the show! Like. Quite frankly, that one is unequivocally bullshit that they made up and threw in and pretended could fit with the established canon. (And I'm sorry, but the idea of Sophie abandoning Astrid and never telling Nate about her just... So much of Nate's trauma was rooted in the loss of Sam, and I think that introducing this element after he's gone and unable to respond to it taints Sophie and Nate's relationship in a way bc I'm not exactly sure how Nate would've responded to learning about this but I think that it's something he'd have needed to know. I don't know how to fully express my thoughts on that but yeah.)
As for Eliot, I don't like the adoption aspect literally at all. The way that he would interact with his family and the memory of his family would be different, and I think that it's flat out ridiculous to think that he'd have never mentioned it to the team in the original show, especially when dealing with the kid cases. (I also dislike the biracial adoption as its own element because if Eliot was actually raised by Black parents in the... idk what 80s/90s? That just. doesn't feel congruent with how they write Eliot interacting with PoC, not necessarily in a bad way, but babe, he's written like a white southern man raised in a specific kind of culture that does not jell with that. It also makes Eliot look... really bad that he was apparently raised with the knowledge of how fucked up the military was and his parents' history and made the choices that he did.) Like the show may not have explicitly stated it but the implication of that relationship was vastly fucking different throughout the original show.
Just. These were not backstories that were congruent with their depiction and characters in the original show, and they're also just moves that I don't particularly like or find interesting directions for those characters. There's also something to be said about how it was apparently unacceptable for a woman to not have kids or someone not reconciling with their biological family when that was something that the original show handled a lot better. Out of all the directions to take Sophie and Eliot's stories, that's just not really one that I think was a good idea.
#i'm not sure if i worded this v well tbh which concerns me#bc like. like i said i dont like the adoption plot anyways but part of my problem with that storyline IS that billy is black#bc i don't think that the way eliot is written makes sense if he was raised by a black couple during that decade#bc the way that he would have engaged with his family and community and the world around him would've been different#especially bc he was raised in the fucking south in the 80s#bc i dont think eliot was ever racist in the original show but i dont think that he really knew#how it was different for poc in certain ways that dont make sense if he was raised by a black couple#like the previous implications of his childhood and specifically his father were v much in the stereotypical v pro military be a man cultur#that culture is also v rooted in toxic masculinity and whiteness#God i hope that makes sense bc i feel like that sounds v bad#but i'd love more black characters on the show and i think that for pretty much any other mc that'd have been fine#it's specifically eliot with the space that he occupies that i feel like it's a problem with his backstory#which also is why i dont like that he's adopted at all bc that's an influential part in how you first view your place and family and all th#that i dont think makes sense with eliot's character. like literally nothing about that reveal really feels like it makes sense with eliot#and to move over to sophie for a second i feel like bringing up the abandoned stepdaughter would have been pretty damn important#when sophie was struggling with the idea of who she really was beneath the aliases and the grift#and especially when she's in a relationship with nate who WAS a father like#and that she used the charlotte alias to meet with someone from her past but there wasnt anything about the fallout#which still makes no fricking sense either way#also insert something about sophie being an older woman without kids#(i know there's the ot3 but they're not actually in a position as her kids bc theyre still equals in a sense)#and needing to actually go no no she was a mom! and then bailed and did all this and blah blah but she's always been a mom in her heart <3#and adding in this relationship as if an older woman cant be satisfied or complete without kids#and i know that ppl might bring up parker but like lbr parker is positioned in a v different space narratively than sophie#ofc parker doesn't have kids she's positioned in a space as the Odd one the kinda broken one#her defying the expectations narratively doesnt necessarily work the same bc of her place#idk i kinda hope these dont end up in the main tags bc idk how ppl will respond nor how well i actually got across my points#but i do wanna tag them for my blog so#leverage#sophie devereaux
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