#but I hope that it will be otherwise and she’ll become the part of it

[girasolka]

you don’t understand how much I adore boys being cocky about their jobbed jobs (especially if we remember that almost every shown case they closed was tilting on the edge of complete failure)

yeah Edwin is quick to praise and Charles is always very enthusiastic and they deserve to say nice things to each other and about themselves in general but it looks like they have an established routine of being smug and cocky after cases with all these “great job” “day is officially saved” “we are the Chip and Dale of the supernatural world” (they definitely are) and it’s so so boyish and funny and precious!

I mean that’s how we know that they enjoy themselves and their job and it brings them joy even in 30 years (in contrast with vast majority of “grown” detectives we all are accustomed to see in media who are usually depressed or nonchalant)

(but also the boys are being conceited assholes and I love it about them)

p.s. all that also indicates that when they get together they will be this insufferable couple people don’t want to be around

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mentions of violence, mention of putting down / death, etc. words -> 4.2K

abstract -> "Lets make it up to eachother!"

y/n's perspective

“She’s awake! Get the doctor!” I heard and my vision was doubled while my head was throbbing. Where was I? The last thing I remember was…

“Then why don’t you run?”

Did he actually run? Was he finally free like he wanted? How does a hybrid escape without pretending to be human? Oh yeah… the black market. 

If he did... I hope it was successful and not all for nothing.

“y/n? How are you feeling?” I heard and I looked to my side. “Jeno… how’s school been?” I offered him a smile and didn’t have to see his face to know he was concerned for me. “Good, I've been focusing on this internship and well I try my best to not lose sleep,” he said and I smiled. “Haechan should learn from you,” I said and I heard his soft laughter. 

“How… are they?” I asked and he sighed. “Let’s get you checked out first. I’ll let Taeyong-hyung explain,” he said and I knew it was probably bad. 

“Y/n the doctor is gonna come in and do some tests, you’ll be given pain medication and you currently have stitches so this will scar. We’ll set up future appointments” I heard as I saw Johnny enter the room. 

I wonder if they're okay. 

seonghwa’s perspective

Last week we were finally let out. That would mean she's dead or alive to have them do action. I don't know what they did to San or Hongjoong yet. But I was in observation to see if I should be considered for a breeding farm. 

I heard them talk… I had no chance of adoption. My only option was a hybrid farm where their only purpose is to reproduce. It also gave me little hope that she was alive. 

I know she’s scared of me… but she would’ve tried to convince them otherwise. I also did hear that Yeosang and Wooyoung were code greens ready for adoption but Wooyoung has been in the medical wing. 

“If I could, those tigers would be shipped off. Hongjoong is excessively violent, he killed her. What am I supposed to tell San? Or Wooyoung? Those hybrids are far too dependent on her. If they knew, San would become a bigger threat to himself and Wooyoung would join him” I heard. She was dead…?

I may have not had a lot of hope but a part of me hoped she was alive. Oh, Hongjoong… we caused a mess.

“Seonghwa, you have a check” I heard as they opened my curtain. I saw the employee now opening the glass door. “I’m sorry,” I said… and he looked at me confused. 

“If… if I didn’t help her she’d still be alive. Even then I could’ve stopped–" "Seonghwa none of this is your fault, I'm sorry your future isn’t looking too bright,” he said and I felt the tears run down my face. 

“My future was never meant to bright”

yeosang's perspective

She was alive. I knew she had to be… there's no way she'd die. 

I was in isolation. My records unfortunately were publicly known when I was in here. The accident at a popular apartment complex where politicians, CEOs, and even idols lived took pictures of what happened. They warned me… she called in asking if I was gonna be put up for adoption. If… she was dead. I would get a horrible punishment for defying her… maybe even move the country? 

“Yeosang, are you ready for some air?” I heard one of the employees. I remember him being called… Jaemin? He was a friend of hers. “Any news?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine” he said and I nodded. “Do you believe that?” I asked and it caught him off guard. He was supposed to make me feel better. I know he’s not allowed to say anything…

“Look… she’s the strongest person I know. The last time I saw her, Johnny promised to make sure she was alright and my friend worked with him. She’s in a stable condition”

liar. He was lying… 

“You don’t believe me do you?” he asked and I shook my head. 

“She’s… not in stable condition. In fact, they're trying their best to monitor her at all times–” “What’s wrong with her?” I asked and he sighed. We started walking outside as he looked to think about what he’d say. 

“Hongjoong when he clawed her jaw hit a vein connected to her heart. The week before when Kun was there, she flatlined but I  know she’s stable now we just need her to wake up. If not she might be in a coma for longer than we’d hope” he explained and I could only feel hatred for those tigers and myself… I pushed her, and I misinterpreted her feelings. She was scared of them… and even us. 

“Is there hope?” I asked and his smile said everything. It was forced and I could see the glassy look in his eyes. “There's always hope” 

Liar. 

wooyoung’s perspective

“Wooyoung you need to eat, we don’t want to put you up with the purple code hybrids. She’s not gonna be happy when–” “How can she feel anything? She’s not here… she’s dead isn't she?” I cut him off. The doctor sighed and shook his head. 

“No, she's not dead,” he said and I didn’t believe him. 

“Do it for her… don’t you think she’ll be distraught to see you in a worse state than before? When she saw you she said she was heartbroken. To know that you were a depressed hybrid… that those who promised her to take care of you weren’t–" "She’s not here!” I yelled. 

“Let me mourn her… she isn’t coming back,” I said and I was fully convinced. She would’ve been here already, she’s gone. I should’ve been there.

“Wooyoung you need to take care of yourself, your weight is dropping and you’ll start to get sick..” I turned him out. I didn’t feel hungry… not when I used to live a fantasy almost two weeks ago now. I was hopeful at first…

but then she never came back. 

san’s perspective

The world… stopped. 

My world stopped… code purple. For hybrids who are dangerous to themselves, mainly ones who experience such stress, or depression they harm themselves. 

Would it be so bad to be with her again? Constrained and isolated… How was Wooyoung doing? Was he like me? 

I missed the feeling of that collar on my neck, the feeling of her warmth, I miss her. Where is she? How long has it been since I've been here?

Surely only a few hours… I wonder when she’ll be here. Maybe in a few hours? 

“San, how are you feeling?” I heard and I finally saw someone after they put me here. “I’m… tired,” I said, I was tired, my mind felt like I was spinning and I felt sick. 

“Do you remember what I told you last time?” he asked me. “What?” I asked and he sighed. “San, I've been here three times a day for two weeks now,” he said and I was confused. I laughed, “It's only been a few hours…” I said and he shook his head. 

“I’ll remind you later, today we thought it would be good to take you outside” he said and I shook my head. “San, do you remember when you arrived here after the fight? You lost any sense of time and thought you lived the same day over and over again. You improved so much afterwards… she would want you to improve and get adopted again” he said and I shook my head. 

“I am adopted, she’s my mate” I said and he sighed almost like he was tired. 

“San, we’ve been having the same conversation for the past two weeks, almost three times a day” 

hongjoong’s perspective

My hands felt dirty… They didn’t let me go to the cells anymore. 

I need to get rid of her blood. I didn't mean to kill her. I… where was Seonghwa? Was he okay? Did he get adopted already? Maybe she’s alive and she took them… but not me.

I don’t deserve it… besides living with humans?  I hate them… I hate her… but I want to apologize. I hope she’s okay. I want her to be okay. But is she? Why would they send me away if that's the case, they were preparing to send me off. 

I was slowly accepting what I was destined for… I was gonna die. Born into a circus, I was always gonna die. 

“You’re scheduled to leave in three days” I heard. It was the main doctor… “Dr. Doyoung will take you in to check your wounds,” he said and I was unchained from the ground to be led to the medical wing. 

He knocked on the door when it revealed another employee… and Wooyoung? He looked… starved. His eyes looked lifeless and dark circles prominent. 

He looked up at me to not even react. They led him away, speaking to him in a cheerful voice as if wanting to cheer him up. “You ruined the lives of four hybrids,” the behaviorist said to me. 

“What's wrong with him?” I asked and he scoffed. 

“The healthiest right now is probably Seonghwa and Yeosang. Yeosang though is still clinging to her being alive, while Wooyoung has refused to be cooperative with this severe depressive episode, even San has lost all sense of time and is worse. All humans aren't evil, but you let that control you and even ruined your own chance to actually live” he said as I went inside the room to see the doctor. 

I… I'm sorry…

y/n’s perspective

“Two weeks?” I asked and they nodded. “Johnny and Jeno tried their best to take care of you… but you were asleep for two weeks and they thought for a minute your body was in shock, especially after your flatline last week. 

“I… what?” I was confused with everything. Two weeks I was out… What happened to them? “You’re okay physically, the tests they've done should help and it looks like they helped you gain some strength to walk despite being comatose for two weeks” he explained and I nodded. 

“Curious about anything?” Taeyong asked and I wanted to ask but I was scared. “I’m curious. Curious as to why you were suddenly scared of your hybrids. Kun told me that your hybrids said you started to be detached and started avoiding them and it was clarified that you were scared” he said and I nodded. 

“When I did the interviews… Hongjoong mentioned that hybrids do anything to survive even if they pretend to like their owners” I said and he laughed at me. “You’ve clearly forgotten how those three looked at you. Wooyoung used to– actually has been obsessed with you for years, Yeosang is the most overprotective hybrid i've ever seen and San? He loves you… he was your first hybrid and he… he’s a code purple right now” he said and i stopped. I felt frozen… 

“A… a code purple?” I said hoping I heard wrong and he nodded.

“He’s lost track of time… he thinks it's been hours. His mind is scattered in events, sometimes he’ll think he’s there because he attacked you and become depressed, or he’ll think the attack was minutes before and scream that he’ll kill that tiger. The worst of it is, right now… he’s waiting for you to show up in front of him. He thinks it's been hours and you’ll recover soon, for him it hasn't been two weeks”' he explained and he wiped my cheek.

“He… he’s no, you're messing with me. San… I need to see him!” I declared and he grabbed my elbow. “You shouldn't be so rash. No one knows you’ve recovered… Kun thinks you're as good as dead. He was there when you flatlined and thought there's no hope” he said and everything was overwhelming.

“I need to see him,” I pleaded and he smiled. “And we will, just let me go to the station first. We’ll go later today, I want to take you back home–" "No” I refused and he sighed.

“The blood is clean… Wonyoung had people clean your apartment–" "It won’t feel right with them not there” I argued and he sighed. 

“Give me a few hours then, I'll call Yuta and Shotaro, they'll take care of you,” he said and I sighed. “I’m a grown woman I don’t need to be taken care of” I argued and he nodded. 

“Okay… but they’ll meet with you to make sure you're okay, '' he said and I nodded. “I can walk–” “I need time alone… I know where they work” I said and he nodded. “Be careful, you just–” “Taeyong please” I pleaded and he nodded as he left. 

I couldn't stop the tears flowing down. I was an idiot… I doubted them and I failed Hongjoong… I need to talk to him–

“Why are you crying again?” I heard as I noticed a man in front of me. It was the man that helped me before. “It's been a long day” I answered and he nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but please don’t cry, surely whatever it is it can be fixed?” he said with a  cheerful smile. “Have you ever owned a hybrid?” I asked and his eyes widened. “Only one,” he said and I nodded. “How do you know their feelings are genuine and they actually love you?” I asked and he chuckled. 

“That's an interesting question… Well, hybrids are known for faking they care but that's a rare few. If you treat them with love and care I can assure you they will be the same” he said and I nod. 

“What if they fake it though, even if you love them to the best of your ability?” I asked and he hummed. “Well, a hybrid can fake words, but the things they do have meaning. Where– I mean hybrids are like animals by the end of the day. They have animal habits they follow, like uhm bunnies circle around their owners, fox hybrids are dependent on owners and usually bond to one person for the rest of their life–" "What about canines and panthers?” I asked and he chuckled. 

“That's a weird pair?” he laughed and I smiled. 

“Well, panther hybrids only really expose themselves to their owners when they fully trust them so sleeping is a big one. Uhm… panthers are actually known to cook or feed their mates as an act of love? –” San often would feed me off his own plate and make me eat more… and he would always say how he preferred sleeping in my room.

He was showing he trusted me… 

“– Dog hybrids however, are known to scent their mates and groom them? So dog hybrids will often fix their owners hair or males would often scent their owner to tell others to back off” he explained and suddenly Yeosang made much more sense to me. 

“I can tell you're a good hybrid owner… any hybrid would be lucky for someone to care about them like you do” he said and I smiled. 

“Thank you…?” I didn't know his name. “Oh? Uhm my name! My name is… Yunho” he said and I smiled. “Thank you, Yunho! My name is y/n” I said and he smiled. 

“It was my pleasure, ah! I think you dropped this?” 

Yuta and Shotaro were spamming my phone. 

I was now in front of the infamous building… The Seoul Hybrid Rehabilitation Center. 

I entered and I was immediately greeted by a shocked Haechan. I smiled at the boy who couldn’t even produce a sentence. “YOU'RE OKAY!” he yelled and I laughed as he hugged me tight. “We were convinced you weren’t gonna wake up” he muttered and I ruffled his hair. “Where's Kun?” I asked and he sighed. “Kun cares about you a lot… so does Doyoung but Kun sees you like his little sister–”

“Haechan, what's going on with him?” I asked and he sighed

“He’s planning on sending Wooyoung and San to Jeju’s Rehabilitation Center, as for Yeosang… There's a threat of legal action with his previous owner, Seonghwa is going to be moved to a breeding farm, and Hongjoong is being sent out of Korea '' he explained and I was speechless. 

“W-What?” I asked and he nodded. “Kun right now is out but he’ll be back soon–” “Take me to San,” I said and he shook his head. “Only Kun and Doyoung have the key to get in there… and you're not supposed to be allowed without them knowing,” he said and I smiled. 

“Please, let me see one of them?” I asked and he nodded. “I can take you to Yeosang,” he said and I nodded. He talks to have someone come get me and lead me to Yeosang.

“y/n?” I heard and saw Renjun. I smiled softly and offered a hug. “I'm so glad you're okay! When did you get discharged” he asked and I sighed. “Maybe two hours ago?” I said and he scoffed. “You should be resting–” “I need to see if they're okay” I cut him off and he nodded. 

He leads me around the green code hybrids seeking adoption until we go towards the ones who have not been cleared for adoption. 

“He’s missed you a lot,” he said and I smiled. He opened the curtain and I saw he was asleep. “Jaemin has been trying his best to cheer up him and Wooyoung but it's been hard for them,” he said and I nodded. “I’m only doing this cause I know he won’t hurt you and he is still your hybrid,” he said as he opened the kennel and waited for me to enter. 

I nod and go in to kneel close to his bed. I pet his ears softly as he whined and opened his eyes slightly. “Hello, sleeping beauty,” I said and his ears flattened on his head. 

“Are you real?” he asks as he grabs my hand, tightening it as if I'd disappear. “I’m real, Yeosang,” I said and he sat up looking at me for what felt like a few minutes before he started crying. 

“Please, be real! I…  I miss you” he said as he hugged me tightly. I rubbed it back as he sobbed. “I’m here, I promise,” I said and he pulled away to look at me. I wanted to cry too… so many times I got into my head that he faked everything to hide away from his owner when I should’ve known better. 

His hand cupped my jaw to where my bandages lay. “Does it hurt?” he asked and I smiled. “I’ll heal,” I said and he nodded. 

“I’m sorry for making you adopt them–” “It's not your fault… I got in my own head. Hongjoong is rough around the edges–” “You shouldn’t defend him” he said angrily and I smiled. 

“Yeosang…. He was wronged. I should’ve voiced my thoughts sooner, but he deserves a second chance. What you suggested was sweet… he’s lived tormented by humans so he deserves to feel loved even if he doesn't know how to accept it” I said and his eyes widened. He nods…

“You’re too good to be real. I still don’t believe you're actually here… maybe you're a true angel visiting me in my dreams'' he said and I chuckled. “I don’t have wings or a halo,” I said and he chuckled. 

“Doesn’t mean you aren't an angel to me” he said and I smiled. 

“y/n?” I heard and I looked behind me to see Doyoung. “Did Haechan tell you?” I asked and he nodded. “I-I’m, why didn’t they tell us you were awake?!” he asked and I smiled while looking at Yeosang. “Well, I did wake up two hours ago,” I said and Yeosang laughed. “You should be resting,” he said and I smiled. 

“I know… Doyoung. Can I see San?” I asked and he sighed. “I don’t have the key… Kun has taken charge of seeing Hongjoong and San, I only see them to check up on them” he said and I nodded.

“And… Wooyoung?” I asked and he sighed almost nervously.

“He’s… he needs to see you”

Yeosang was gonna be checked one last time by Doyoung while he led me in front of Wooyoung’s kennel. “Be careful with him… he’s been worse than I've ever seen him” he said and Yeosang didn’t want to let go of my hand. 

“I’ll be here when you're out, I promise,” I said and he didn’t look convinced. “When have I ever lied to you? Or broken a promise?” I asked and he nodded. 

They leave me alone with Wooyoung’s key. I knock before opening the door… It's to tell the hybrid I'm going in. I open it and see that he’s already staring at the door. His eyes widened. 

“y/n?” he said and I noticed how hoarse his voice was. How skinny he was… how tired he looked. “Hello, Woo,” I said, trying my best to offer a happy smile as I felt my vision blur. “You're… alive?” he said, confused and not moving. 

“Missed me?” I said and I sat down on the floor to sit at eye level with him. “I…” he was speechless. I smiled as I hugged him… his tears and sobs broke my heart. The way he tightened his grip on my body and let out cries was the only thing I could focus on. 

He struggled with words as he sobbed. 

“I... I lost- any hope that you were alive!” he let out and I felt a serious ache in my heart. “I’m sorry,” I said and he shook his head as he let go and ghosted his hand on my jaw. “It's not your fault,” he said and I knew what he suggested. 

“It's not his fault either… I should’ve talked about what I was feeling "I said and he said nothing but hugged me. We sat there on the floor with him hugging me in silence.

“Wooyoung '' I heard as I saw Yeosang in his regular clothes and his collar. “Yeosang?” he said as he lifted his head without letting me go to see his friend. “The doctor wants to see you so he can discharge you,” he said and he tightened his grip on me.

“I’ll still be here… you get to be in comfortable clothes and your collar again,” I said and he nodded letting go but did move to leave.

“She’ll still be here,” Yeosang said and Wooyoung nodded. “Can… Can we get food from that street food market?” he asked and I smiled. “Anything you want,” I said and he nodded. He leaves but not without looking at me one last time and giving me a slight smile.

Progress…

“Are you gonna take in those tigers again?” Yeosang asked and I sighed. “I hate how I… I want to give them a second chance. A better chance without me being scared of them… I took them in because they wanted a better life and I didn’t even try like I did with you, Wooyoung, and San” I explain and nod. 

“I don’t trust them” he said and I smiled. “And you have every right to,” I said. 

“y/n?” I heard and I saw Jaemin who looked at me with the biggest smile. “How are you doing?” I said and he chuckled. “You see Yeosang, she’s okay,” he said and Yeosang nodded. “Jaemin? Can you take me to Seonghwa?” I asked and he sighed. “The tigers are gonna be transferred–” “Kun can’t do that, I'm still their owner,” I said and he chuckled. 

“You're the same as ever. Let me take you there then, I'd rather not be sued and in debt even more than I am” he said and I chuckled.

“Yeosang, stay here for Wooyoung,” I said and he shook his head getting ready to argue– “He needs someone here, and I’ll be back,” I said and he nodded reluctantly. 

I followed Jaemin when I noticed he was also a code green hybrid. “Seonghwa, you have a visitor,” Jaemin said as he opened the curtain first. 

He looked at me shocked. 

“You're… I’m sorry! I should’ve stopped Hongjoong, please I-I’m so–” “Seonghwa it isn't your fault '' I said while giving him a smile and he looked at me with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry for not offering you what I did to my hybrids' ' I said and he looked confused. “You deserve a second chance… so does Hongjoong. Let me make it up to you” I said and he shook his head. 

“I… I should be asking that of you!” he said desperately and I smiled. 

“Let's make it up to each other then!” I said and he was frozen… “I… why do you still want me?” he asked and I shrugged. “You’re a sweet hybrid… a farm doesn’t suit you at all,” I said and I could see tears forming in his eyes.

“I… I really am sorry I wasn't–” “It's not your fault, you… were the sweetest. You tried so hard to earn a place with me and I know you deserve it. So I'm sorry for letting Hongjoong’s words get into my head, I really do think you deserve better Seonghwa '' I said and he was silent. 

“Do you accept me?” I asked and he smiled softly. 

“If you’ll take me” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

[wisteriaiswriting]

Trapped With Twisteds (Part 3)

Words: 790

Features: Connie, Finn, Gigi, Scraps, Sprout and Toodles

You won’t be bored with her at least, I just hope you aren’t easily scared, otherwise you won’t be having fun.

As she loves to pop out of nowhere to scare you, whether she’s going through a nearby wall, a machine or even the floor.

She loves to hang onto you, she might hold onto your arm or shoulder as you move around. Sometimes wrapping her tail over your shoulders, which she actually loves to do.

If other toons venture down and get near you at all she makes a note and sabotages them later, either by leading the other twisted/s to them or messing with whatever machine they’re on.

This goes for the twisteds as well, leading any hostile ones on a goose chase until you’re out of their sight.

You are not going far with and without him, he makes sure of this. Constantly giving you the slow III effect, he knows you can outrun him normally so he has this precaution in place so you can’t leave him.

Even as a twisted he is quite similar to his counterpart, mainly in the fact he wants to stay next to you.

He tries not to get any ichor on you but given his… situation, that is impossible. So he settles for the smallest amount possible.

Isn’t the most hostile to any other twisteds around unless they try to attack you, then he’ll fight back.

But it’s on sight for the other toons, especially his counterpart. He doubles the slowness on you so you can’t even move before rushing off.

She makes sure you have no items nearly all the time, she can’t have you rushing off at any time, can she?

Has no shame constantly hanging around you, using the ichor hand to keep you next to her.

She will cover you in ichor, and she doesn’t actually care.

Tries to keep some semblance of normalcy while you’re trapped with her, mainly does it by talking about anything she can think of.

Another one who is quite territorial of you, even if she tries to keep it on the down low. It shows when the toons are around, as most of the twisteds know not to mess with her, majority don’t even want to be around her.

So there’s not many chances of escape for you really.

Just like Goob, if you’re stuck with her it’s likely you’re stuck with both of them. So escape chances are very, very low.

And she knows this, so if she doesn’t need to be around you she won’t, letting you roam the floor. But she does want to spend a lot of her time with you anyways.

She tries not to hurt you, either with the ichor or her claws. Because as much as she loves you and wants you to stop fighting her, she doesn’t want you to turn into a twisted yourself.

If she does then she’s panicking, rushing around to grab a medkit or bandage. If this becomes a regular occurrence then she’ll try to make a stash for whenever it happens.

She won’t use her tail to attack you, instead wrapping it around you. But if you fight her long enough and keep pushing her, then she’ll use it. Once as a warning, during blood just to help you right after.

It’s pretty hard to escape with him, but definitely not impossible.

Tries his hardest to be gentle with you, uses his normal hand when reaching for you. Only when you try to run or fight him does he use the ichor covered one, it’s stronger and larger so it stops you from running.

His eyesight isn’t the best, so if you want to escape, use that to your advantage.

The tendrils that rise from the ichor pools don’t actually attack you, instead they hold you still until Sprout can come grab you.

Speaking of, he has a habit of holding you like a teddy bear, it brings him some comfort and stops you from leaving him.

You can’t leave if you don’t have the energy, Toodle is successfully stopping you from leaving and doesn’t even realise.

She loves playing games with you, mainly tag and hide and seek. Where you’re the runner and then the hider, each one normally changes into the other one. So you are rightfully tired afterwards.

Although she is easily distractable if you want a chance to escape or just get a moment to yourself. That is until she’s tired of whatever you gave her and then comes looking for you.

Keeps the other toons and twisteds away, is very hostile to everyone else. So unless a group of toons come to save you then it’s very unlikely you’ll leave her.

[greengoblinswifey]

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part I

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of drugs and alcohol, Substance Use, Mature Themes.

A/N— Comment to be a part of the tag list, hope you enjoy this series <3

Series Masterlist

The glossy conference room table reflected the headline of the magazine tossed unceremoniously in front of you.

“America’s New Wild Child: From Runways to Rock Bottom”

Below it was a photo of you stumbling into a hotel lobby, visibly intoxicated, mascara smeared, and your once-iconic dress askew. It wasn’t just one headline, it was everywhere. Every blog, tabloid, and gossip page seemed to have some variation of your downfall plastered across their pages.

Your manager, Angela, sighed heavily from across the table, rubbing her temples. “You see this, right? The Shade Room picked it up. TMZ is all over it. Even Vogue is doing a piece on whether or not you’re the next Kate Moss, but not in a good way.” She leaned forward, her voice sharp. “You’re toxic right now. Nobody wants to touch you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “This isn’t true. My ex-best friend—she’s jealous. She made this all up.”

Angela gave you a pointed look and slid her iPad across the table. On it was a video—paparazzi footage of you from a few nights ago. You were stumbling out of a car, practically being carried by someone, slurring your words as you waved off photographers.

You groaned and pressed your fingers to your temples. “Y’all please, that was one time.”

“It’s never just one time with you!” snapped Melanie, one of the executives at your agency. “This is becoming a pattern. And we’re not here to babysit you.” She stood, exasperated. “You’re one of the highest-paid models in the world, and now look at you. You’re a liability.”

Angela raised a hand to calm the room. “Give me a few days,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll clean this up. We’ll fix her image. She’ll be the ‘it girl’ again. I just need time.”

Melanie crossed her arms but didn’t argue. “Fix it fast. Otherwise, we’re done.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you sat silently, staring at the incriminating headlines. After years of grueling work, endless runway shows, and clawing your way to the top, it was all unraveling because of your past addictions and your inability to leave it behind.

Angela pulled you aside as the others left. “You need to clean this up. No more excuses. No more scandals. And definitely no more drunken or high paparazzi shots. Got it?”

You nodded numbly. “Got it.”

“Good. Now, start small. Let’s use that mansion of yours. Throw a party. Invite everyone who matters. Show them the glamorous, sophisticated version of yourself. Make them forget the messy headlines.”

Your lips curved into a small, defiant smile. “A party? That, I can do.”

2 Days Later

The house practically glittered under the LA moonlight, perched in the most exclusive part of the city. Your glam team buzzed around you, perfecting every inch of your hair and makeup as you sipped champagne. Outside the window, you noticed the usually dark house next door was now bustling with activity.

“Looks like someone’s moving in,” you said absently, gesturing with your glass. From the corner of your eye, you saw a guy carrying a box inside. He looked young, around your age maybe two years older, and vaguely attractive, though you didn’t pay much attention.

“Maybe he’ll be better than the last neighbors,” you joked to your stylist, smirking. “If he’s cute, I might even invite him to the party.”

As the night fell, the party roared to life. The mansion was packed with models, actors, and influencers. Music pounded through the walls, and laughter echoed in every corner. You danced like you had something to prove, the champagne flowing freely. At one point, you made out with a fellow model on the balcony to the cheers of a crowd. You were chaos incarnate, and you loved every second of it.

Around midnight, you were helping a tipsy friend into a waiting limo when you noticed someone approaching from the house next door.

“Excuse me.”

You turned, your vision slightly blurred, and found yourself face-to-face with the new neighbor. He was dressed casually—jeans and a hoodie—but his sharp jawline and piercing eyes caught your attention.

“I’m Nicholas,” he said, offering a tight smile. “Nicholas Chavez. I just moved in.”

You arched a brow, leaning lazily against the limo. “And?”

“And I have an audition tomorrow,” he continued, his tone calm but firm. “Your music is loud, and I can’t sleep.”

You laughed, the champagne fizzing in your head. “Well, didn’t you know who you were moving in next to?”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I found out too late,” he said dryly, a pointed reference to the headlines.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Funny. I’ve never seen a single headline about you.”

This time, he chuckled softly, though it was more condescending than amused. “Well, I’ll try to keep it that way.” His gaze flicked down briefly before meeting your eyes again.

You noticed, scoffing. “Nice try, but staring at my chest isn’t going to make me turn the music down.”

“Noted,” he replied smoothly, his tone unreadable. “But seriously, could you tone it down? Just a little?”

You waved him off, turning back toward the house. “Good luck with your audition.”

The door slammed behind you as the party continued to rage on. Whatever Nicholas Chavez wanted, it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you were untouchable—or so you thought.

You weren’t worried Nicholas would turn out like your last neighbors, the ones who had gleefully run to the press with tales of your ‘wild, disruptive parties’ adding fuel to your already blazing reputation as a noisy party girl.

The party raged on, and you weren’t exactly innocent in keeping it under control. The music blasted as guests danced, smoked, and drank with abandon. Lines of coke were casually set out on mirrored trays, and you caught more than one person lighting up joints in the corners. Even you, despite promising yourself you were done with that lifestyle, gave in after a few glasses of champagne, doing a line or two when a friend coaxed you into it.

By the time the sun started to rise, people were passed out on your marble floors, the air heavy with the stench of spilled liquor and smoke. You stumbled to bed without bothering to clean up, the haze of the night swirling in your head.

You woke to the sound of chaos downstairs—your housekeepers already hard at work, scrubbing every inch of the aftermath. Your head pounded as sunlight streamed in through your curtains. Groaning, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and blinked at the time. It was already midday.

Dozens of missed calls and messages from Angela stared back at you. She’d been blowing up your phone about a last-minute shoot, one you had completely missed. You cursed under your breath, knowing she’d be furious.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom for a long, scalding shower. As the water poured over you, you couldn’t help but rethink the night before. You’d promised to get it together, to clean up your image, but it was getting harder to hold yourself accountable.

After drying off, you wrapped yourself in a silk robe and walked to your window. Across the lawn, you noticed Nicholas pulling into his driveway. He stepped out of his car looking exhausted, a coffee in hand, wearing a nice suit. You figured he must have just returned from his audition. It must’ve been early. For a brief moment, guilt pricked at you. If he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, it was probably your fault.

Angela didn’t wait for you to sit down when you arrived at her office. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, slamming her laptop shut as you walked in.

“I’m sorry, A,” you began, your voice hoarse from the night before.

“Sorry?” she cut you off, standing up and pacing the room. “Do you know what I’ve been dealing with all morning?” She grabbed a folder from her desk and threw it onto the coffee table in front of you. A stack of printouts slid out, screenshots of articles and photos from the party.

The headlines were brutal: “A Drug-Fueled Disaster: Is Y/N Destroying the Modeling Industry?”

Photos showed passed-out models, trays of coke, and worst of all, a video of you taking a line.

You froze, your stomach twisting into knots.

Angela slammed her hands on the desk. “This was supposed to be elegant, extravagant, a chance to clean up your image. Instead, you turned it into some rockstar-adjacent drug den!”

“I didn’t know people were recording,” you said weakly, avoiding her glare.

“That’s not the point!” she barked. “You were supposed to set an example. Little black girls look up to you. This is the image you’re giving them?”

You exhaled sharply, frustrated. “Angela, with all due respect, I’m not their mother. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model.”

She rolled her eyes, her frustration palpable. “Well, congratulations, because you’re not much of one anyway. This is your last chance. Do you hear me? Last chance.”

You nodded quickly, desperate to make it right. “I’ll fix it. I swear.”

“I already have something cooking up,” she said sharply, leaning against her desk. “But in the meantime, go downtown, look beautiful, and give them something positive to talk about. No booze, no drugs, no nonsense. Just smile, shop, and sign autographs. Sober.”

You groaned inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out in public, especially hungover, but you didn’t dare push back. “Got it.”

Your driver dropped you off at one of the most exclusive shopping districts in the city. Bodyguards lingered in the background as you strolled from boutique to boutique, taking your time and letting the paparazzi get their shots.

Every time someone asked for an autograph, you smiled warmly and obliged, posing with fans here and there. This was your coping mechanism—shopping your problems away, hoping the public would eat it up.

“Looking good, Y/N!” one of the paparazzi shouted as you exited a store with bags in hand.

You forced another smile, playing your part, and waved at the cameras before ducking into the backseat of your car.

When you arrived home, the guilt from last night gnawed at you. You couldn’t undo the noise and chaos, but maybe you could soften the blow. After all, Nicholas didn’t deserve to suffer because of your mess. Deciding to make amends, you ordered a small cake from a local bakery with “Welcome” scrawled neatly in frosting.

Holding the cake, you made your way next door and rang his doorbell. At first, there was no response, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was ignoring you. Maybe he had seen the articles and already formed an opinion. The thought annoyed you, but just as you were about to turn away, the door opened.

Nicholas stood there in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, his face a mix of surprise and curiosity. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes dropped to the cake in your hands.

“Hi, neighbor,” you said with a small, sheepish smile.

He raised an eyebrow, reading the icing. “Welcome?”

“It’s for you,” you explained. “To welcome you to the neighborhood. And, uh, sorry about last night.”

His surprise lingered as he stepped aside to let you in. “Didn’t strike you as the generous, ‘welcome-with-cake’ kind of girl,” he said as you followed him into his sleek, modern kitchen.

The place was immaculate—white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and tasteful art on the walls. He set a glass down on the counter and gestured toward a barstool for you to sit.

“Well,” he added with a smirk, “especially not after a night like that. I’m surprised you’re even standing.”

You groaned, slumping into the chair. “Please don’t tell me you’ve seen the articles.”

He grabbed a knife to cut the cake. “The articles, the pictures, the videos, yeah, I’ve seen them.”

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “Great. Just what I needed. My new neighbor thinking I’m a train wreck.”

“Not thinking anything,” he said casually, slicing into the cake. His tone was calm, nonchalant. You couldn’t read him, and it annoyed you. Was he judging you? Laughing at you? You couldn’t tell.

You cleared your throat. “Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood. And again, sorry for the noise.”

He placed two plates on the counter, handing one to you. “Thanks. Want to eat this with me? That’s if you’re one of those rare models who actually eat carbs and don’t starve themselves.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Don’t joke about that. And yes, I’ll have a slice. Or two.”

He chuckled softly, taking a seat across from you. As you ate, you studied him a little closer. His face was sharp, striking, he was definitely good-looking, though in a boy-next-door-meets-Hollywood kind of way. Then it hit you where you’d seen him before.

“You’ve been everywhere lately,” you said, setting your fork down. “You were in that Lyle and Erik Menendez show, right?”

He looked up, surprised. “You watched it?”

“I caught the first episode,” you admitted. “It was really good. Intense, but good.”

“Thanks,” he said, his expression softening. “It was a tough project, but worth it.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Hollywood’s a mess. Be careful.”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The conversation felt easy, almost too easy. Sitting across from him, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt hugged his chest and arms, or the way his jaw tensed when he chewed. You realized, with a twinge of irritation, that you were definitely attracted to him. The idea of tearing his clothes off flashed through your mind, but you quickly shoved it aside.

You had too much going on to add that kind of complication to your life. Besides, sex was supposed to be the last thing on your mind right now.

Standing abruptly, you pushed your chair back. “I should go. Thanks for letting me crash your place. Enjoy the cake.”

He walked you to the door. “If I need anything, should I come knocking?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan on babysitting you, but sure, I guess.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Noted, neighbor.”

The moment you stepped through the door, your phone buzzed. Angela’s name flashed across the screen.

“Good,” she said briskly when you answered. “You’re home. I’ll be at your place first thing in the morning.”

“Why?” you asked cautiously.

“There’s a plan,” she said, her tone leaving no room for questions. “I’ll explain everything then, and we’ll put it in motion. Be ready.”

She hung up before you could respond. You stared at the phone, curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever she was planning, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. If this was your chance to claw your way back into the spotlight, you’d take it.

For now, you poured yourself a glass of water, settling into the couch as you tried to shake off the day. Tomorrow was a new start—or so you hoped.

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 19 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: The aftermath of the Hightower dinner has brought forth a lot to think about, for both Valeana and Aemond. Rhaenyra is presented with an interesting proposition days before everyone returns from Dragonstone. Word Count: 5225 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Fatphobia, child death, description of child deformity, mother's grieving.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: At this point the chapters are gonna be a bit longer, now that there are more moving parts.

“Marry Aemond? Prince Aemond?”

Barty smiled, “Yes, my dove. Would that please you?”

Valeana looked down at her fingers, which held onto a loop, needle and thread. The damask pattern she had been weaving into a napkin was instantly forgotten. She never believed that she would have ever hear those words; only in her wildest dreams her imagination would pull her into the delusion that she and Aemond would be husband and wife. Though each morning she was reminded of the reality of her life; a noble born lady she may be, but she did not hold a significant influence that would benefit the crown, save for her dowry and position of her father. And she was aware that she was not a comely girl, as was persistently confirmed by Aegon, Jace and Luke’s relentless teasing of her body and face, often likening her to a pink pig when she got flushed and sweaty during the humid days. 

Aemond was her dearest friend, and whilst she knew that he valued their friendship, she also knew that her appearance kept him from seeing her as more than that. Even if… Even if there were times that she believed otherwise. It was difficult to discern where his heart was, particularly when they weren’t alone and were being watched by Aegon. Though when they were alone, Aemond was the sweetest boy; not afraid to hold her hand when helping her down narrow stairs or a steep hill, or tending to the needle pricks she often gave herself with a gentle kiss and a tentative diligence to clean the small wound. Sometimes he would bring her gifts, such as sweets, new fabrics and thread, pretty stones he found, or flowers to decorate her plaits with. Their conversations were effortless as well. One of her favourite things to do was to make him laugh, as serious as he was most of the time. 

Those moments of hope would shatter when others invaded their privacy. Aemond would quickly become indifferent, albeit polite and courteous, even when Jace, Luke, and Aegon collectively teased her on this and that in front of him. It hurt, naturally, but Valeana understood why. If it wasn’t her, it was him, and she would gladly bear the burden as long they did not direct their bullying onto Aemond. Because that is how much she cared about her dearest friend.

Now her father presented her with her dream come true on a golden fucking platter, and she hesitated. Valeana always pictured herself accepting in a heartbeat, but now that it actually happened, doubt and dread settled in her young heart. Is this what Aemond wanted? Did he find her worthy enough for his cloak? Did he actually care enough about her to want to get married? Perhaps not as lovers, as she wished to be, but at the very least very good friends that were comfortable and loyal to each other.

And mayhaps if he did not think her worthy of him, a prince, she could try to be. She’ll try to be worthy for him. 

“It will please me greatly, father,” Her cheeks were rosy red when she said this, but her eyes were still on her lap. “Though I wish… I wish, if you allow it, that we could be wedded in the tradition of our ancestors.” 

Taken back, Bartimos slowly sat down on an ottoman in front of his daughter, “Well, I– this is a surprise… But, if the King allows it, I do not see why not. Though in order to do so, you must learn High Valyrian… Not the bastardized Braavosi one your Grandmother speaks.”

“I will learn!” Valeana looks up, green eyes marbled in her eagerness. “It is not so different; I already know some phrases! Grandmama sometimes sends me letters in Valyrian for me to translate on my own.”

Barty chuckled, then reached out to caress the apple of her cheek, “It is still a difficult language to master, but… I suppose you do already have a head start.” He stared at her fondly, eyes roaming over her features and finding his late wife in them. Lysa also wanted to learn High Valyrian, so she could teach Clement and Valeana herself one day. Sadly, that never came to pass. 

The Lord of Claw Isle nodded, “Alright. It is settled then– I shall petition with the king once the betrothal is set in stone.”

Valeana bounced up from her seat and pounced upon her father, wrapping her little arms around his neck and burying her face in there. 

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Anything for my little dove,” Barty pulled her into his body in a protective and loving embrace, a large smile breaking through the whiskers of his mustache. He pushed her hair behind her ear and gave her a kiss on her temple. 

“Want to know a secret, my dove?” He whispered into her ear, “You are my favourite. Shhh do not tell your sisters.”

Valeana giggled and gave her father a playful whack on her shoulder, “Don’t be silly, papa!” 

He laughed, but it didn’t reach his face this time, because it was true. Valeana was his favourite… She was the last of her; the last of Lysa, his first and truest love. 

Aegon casted a look over his shoulder as they approached the serpentine steps. He spotted his brother heading in the opposite direction once he exited the Tower of the Hand. The eldest prince grinned widely, entirely satisfied with the night’s events. Turning back around, he quickly jogged to catch up with Valeana, who kept her attention trained on the couple ahead of her. 

Daeron joined them after supper wrapped up for the night, as his lodgings were in Meagor’s Holdfast with the rest of the royal family. His cousins remained in the Tower of the Hand, and Aemond, being the gentleman that he was, left to escort Lady Maris back to the north tower. Daeron and Shyla were walking shoulder to shoulder a few leagues away, with the latter asking questions, and the former basking in the attention of it all.

Aegon hummed happily, “Look at them. I’ve never been so happy.” Valeana spared him a look, but didn’t comment, so he continued. “Daeron is never going to know what hit him.” 

She rolled her eyes with a tisk of her tongue, “You realize it won’t last.”

“As long as it is not directed back at me, I do not care.”

Shaking her head, Valeana tuts again, “Poor young Floris. She and my sister are friends, you know.”

“Should make quite a show,” Aegon dismissed with a smile. “Another Baratheon-Cletigar battle. The Storms and the Sirens. You should write a story about that.”

Val rolled her eyes at him, and his only response was that insufferably endearing cheeky smile. She huffed and looked a head as they turned around another flight of stairs. 

“Why did he bring her?”

Aegon contemplated the answer before giving it, “Well… He did not know you would be present.” She hummed in agreement. “And since he had his lips all over your tits half a day ago, if I had to take an educated guess, he is trying to put up a display.” 

“A display? You believe he is using her?”

The prince gave a shrug, “I have never seen Aemond try to court anyone, until now. Cannot be a coincidence that he chose to start under your presence.” 

Valeana gave a dejected sigh, one that turned his contented smile into a pout of concern. “I do not know. Maris is the exact type of woman Aemond would want in a bride. It’s so painstaking perfect, it just makes me want to–”

Aegon stopped walking, taking hold of her elbow when he did so she was forced to make a half spin to face him. Something unsettling was starting to take root in his bones, that made him feel cold and hot all over, at the same time.

“You are jealous,” it was a statement, not a question. One that she confirmed by not even looking him in the face, so he continued, “Because you want Aemond back.”

“It does not matter,” Val marched on and Aegon was quick to follow. “He does not want me back.”

Aegon scoffed dramatically, “The bruises on your chest say otherwise.”

They were lucky they were alone at night, with only distant guards patrolling the courtyard that could not hear a word of this conversation. Otherwise, she might have pushed him down the stairs. 

“Physical attraction is not the same, Aegon. Men have no standards when it comes to getting their cocks wet, but it is an entirely different scenario when it comes to commitment, to having someone to call wife, and then mother to their children. What happened this morning… It meant nothing.” 

“I disagree… With the ‘it meant nothing’ part. The first is a bit illuminating…” Aegon lifted his chin up as he quickly mused over what she said. Clearing his throat and ridding himself of silly daydreams, he continued. “If you weren’t so consumed with your hatred of Maris Baratheon, you would have noticed my little ploy had an effect on him.”

She blinked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Aemond is possessive,” they were arriving at the Holdfast grand doors, and he paused as the guards opened the door for them, ushering them inside. He lowered his voice then, careful to make sure it didn’t echo through the cavernous space of the antechamber before the grand staircase. “He gets territorial when his things are being touched by others.”

“I am not a thing, Aegon.”

“No, you’re much more precious than that,” his comment earned him a curious glance. “You weren’t looking, but every show of affection I gave you was met with an eye filled with such fierce contempt. He had completely forgotten to eat the food on his plate. He barely ate a thing the entire time; he was too busy glaring at me.” 

Valeana’s steps were slow as they climbed up the stairs, only stopping when they reached the half landing. She pivoted in front of Aegon, leaning her elbow on the railing and tilted her head up at him. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I am saying… He isn’t as uncaring of you as he thinks he is,” Aegon crossed his arms as he leaned against the same railing. “He hasn’t changed… refusing to admit to his weaknesses in front of people. Aemond saw you as one as children, which is why he pretended you were merely part of the wall tapestries whenever the seven of us were together. Had things been different, and I had been keen on you then, Aemond would have been all over you, staking his claim publically. ” 

Aegon watched her carefully as she looked down at the floor, her free hand moving up almost instinctively over her belly in an act of self consciousness. 

Aegon knew what he was about to suggest could be the biggest mistake of his life, but… it also meant that he would get to be closer to her. Now more than ever he realized that is what he craved most. He took her hand away from her stomach and brought her knuckles to his mouth. He dragged her fingers along the line of his bottom lip, and never wavered his eyes from hers. 

“Aemond can have his farce courtship,” the corner of his lip curled upward. “And we can have our own.”

Aemond failed to ignore the pointed leer of his grandfather when his guests left the Tower of the Hand. He disappointed him, he knew, but the prince found he lacked the capacity to care. Instead of acknowledging it with a whispered apology, he merely nodded to him and gave him a curt “good night”, his final one for his mother’s family that eve. 

The aftermath of the hydrangea debate was awkward, to say the least. Of course it was Aegon who broke the silence with an impressed laugh, and once again chose to put his hands on her.

“Oh, my darling Valeana is full of surprises, isn’t she? The mind on this one,” then Aemond had to watch his brother’s filthy hands comb back a strand of hair over her shoulder, where his fingers trailed down the length of her arm down to her elbow. 

He supposed he had to thank Aegon, though, because the sight of it softened his cock, saving him from the tension of his breeches.

The conversation took a stiff turn as Lady Sam attempted to salvage the mood by expressing her interest in the histories of Old Valyria. His previous attempt to put Valeana in her spot was quickly forgotten, but eventually Daeron did bring out his lute and played for the table. Maris decidedly remained quiet for the rest of the evening. 

Until the door to the Tower shut behind them. 

Granted she did wait until Aegon and Valeana were farther down the courtyard towards the Serpentine Steps before she opened her mouth. Aemond only half paid attention, as his eyes lingered on the long white gold train of Val’s hair that glowed under the light of the moon. He only turned away when he noticed his brother cast a look over his shoulder. 

“I cannot believe I judged her so poorly,” Maris continued to rant. “I always thought that I had a good judgement of character, though clearly I was mistaken. I should have heeded Cassandra’s warning about her… But stupid me, I shrugged it off and listened to Ellyn instead.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Ellyn is the stupid one. I should have known better.” 

That statement pulled Aemond out of his reverie. He was lost in the memory of Valeana speaking in the High Valyrian tongue, which he was cautious to admit sounded like melted butter to his ear. He was lucky his leather jerkin covered him down to his thighs. 

“Your elder sister warned you about her?” He attempted to sound casual, yet conversational. “Whatever for?” 

Maris let out a sigh, and all the bravado drained out of her. She folded her arms and regarded the floor as they crossed through the courtyard. 

“That Valeana Celtigar has an ill reputation in court already, having no sense of decency for her honour by fraternizing with your brother so callously and scandalously,” every word had a bite to it, despite her low tone. Aemond tended to ignore gossip fabricated by women of the court, but it seemed that his own observations had not gone unnoticed by others. “And… Floris – Grafton, that is – she had told my sister, and she in turn told me of the history you share with Valeana.” 

Aemond pursed his lips as he hummed, tilting his head back as he did. He supposed that the story of how Aemond Tagaryen pushed a girl down the stairs was public knowledge, though he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of conjecture came out of it. 

“Valeana Celtigar and I grew up together. We did not have much of a friendship other than simply sharing a childhood,” it was a lie he was accustomed to making, so every word came out smoothly and left little room for Maris to doubt. “Though, if you are worrying about what had ended our acquaintanceship, allow me to ease your mind, Lady Maris.”  

He slowed to a stop when she turned to him, arms still crossed as she patiently waited for him to explain. Aemond’s arms were pinned behind his back, looking nonchalant as he retold the tale of the worst night of his life through liar’s teeth. 

“Valeana’s fall down the stairs was an unfortunate accident. She would not leave me alone; I suppose because she fancied me more than I did her. That day, she accosted me in the hall, where she stood precariously close to the stairs and… regrettably, I reacted too harshly to her advances. I was unaware of how close to the edge she actually was…” He turned away from Maris, swallowing thickly as his regrets bubbled in his throat. The shame for his blatant lies weighed in his chest like the crushing step of a dragon’s foot. “I paid the price with lashings, and she and her family left for Claw Isle, freeing me of her, until now. It seems she seeks out more repercussions from me, as if I committed a greater sin.” 

Maris shook her head sadly, sympathetically, “You already paid the price, and yet she still seeks out revenge for what had happened when you were children?” 

“If trying to provoke me is her way of revenge, then she will be disappointed,” Aemond turned back to the woman in front of him. “I am a man, not a child. It appears she has not grown out of that era of her life… And I am not inclined to let her ruin my happiness because she rejects her own.”

Maris smiled kindly, and took a few stops to close the distance between them. Her hand bravely finds purchase on his chest, and she craned her neck up to look at him, “You are right. You are too good for her, Aemond. Do not let her get the best of you.”

He forced himself to smile, albeit a small one. Aemond unlaced his arm from behind his back and offered it to her, “Your support is appreciated, Lady Maris.”

She took his offered arm, and wove hers around it, tucking her hand into his elbow as they continued to walk towards the north tower. 

Aemond was too preoccupied with stifling the unwelcomed shame he felt into the back of his mind to notice Maris’ head leaning on his shoulder. All he could concentrate on was reaching out for his voice of reason, the one that told him he should not feel guilty, that Valeana deserved his lies. He was merely protecting his heart, like Cole had advised. 

“She is insufferable,” Maris restarted her rant. “I can see why you never got on with her in the first place. From what Cassandra tells me, she is quite a spoiled little thing, always being doted on by her father, while poor Floris and Shyla are on the sidelines…” 

It went on like that, Maris ranting and criticizing Valeana for things that even he knew were not true. It brought him back to the times that he remained silent to her teasing. Jacaerys would point out her flaws in a heartbeat, even when she tried to desperately hide them, like the birthmark on her neck, or the frizz of her hair. Luke would pile on to it, and Aegon would always have some vicious insult flung her way that would triumph everything else. Shyla and Floris were caught in the crosshairs as well, but it was not nearly as much, since Floris often snitched on them, and Shyla was young, naive, and delusional, and so it affected her little. Valeana, though, took it with quiet resolve, pretending it was water off of a duck’s back. He always envied how she was able to take the blows, unlike him who would lash out like a cornered snake. 

Maris gave a haughty laugh suddenly, “And who is she fooling with that dress? So tightly confining, trying to hide the sad fact of her appearance. Hate to break it to you, darling, but we all know you are fat. You can put a corset on a pig, but it still a pig–”

“Maris,” Aemond halted before the shadow of the north tower. Something white hot shot through him, like a well placed lightning strike down his spine. Heat raised from his core to his face, and which felt like it had combusted in fires of fury. 

His tone clearly frightened her by the ghostly shade of her face, and the surprised gape she gave him. Aemond’s nostrils flared and his teeth grinded, a testimony to his self control, as he held back saying something he would regret. He had many things he wished to say… Many belittling insults that would be satisfying to wield, but that would mean he was defending his enemy. 

And yet… when Maris mocked Valeana’s appearance, it felt like it was an insult to his own person.

“It is not becoming of a lady to demean another’s appearance,” The volume of his voice was painfully controlled; each word was pulled from a taut jaw. It had the desired effect of intimidating her, as Maris pulled away from his arm and shrank under his scrutiny. 

“I–I only meant… Please, I apologize, my Prince,” Maris dipped into a stiff curtsey, her head bowed in shame. “I got…I got carried away.” 

Aemond turned away from her, shooting his attention to the east, but staring at ultimately nothing. The black canvas of the sky served a respite for his bristled mind, so he concentrated on it for a few beats before exhaling slowly from his nose and pursing his lips. When he returned his eye to Maris, she was holding herself and avoiding his ire by regarding her shoes peeking out from underneath her mustard skirts.

He extended his hand to her, an olive branch and a silent gesture of forgiveness, “Come on. I do not wish to anger your father by loitering too long.” 

Maris’ dark eyes met his briefly, and her small smile conveyed that she was relieved she had not angered him into completely casting her off. Though the truth of it is, she did. Whatever charm Aemond found in her had vanished. Now she was no better than everyone else… no better than Aegon, Jace, Luke or Floris. No better than himself. 

The loss of the little Princess Visenya weighed as freshly on Rhaenyra’s mind as it did the day it happened. She knew it would come eventually, since the day she was born with physical deformities that were both marred her sweet visage and impeded her ability to breathe. When the maesters saw that they were actually able to see her heartbeat through a thin layer of translucent indented skin (as if a dragon’s claw reached and plucked a chunk of her flesh and it had healed over), Rhaenyra knew her only daughter was not meant for this world. It was a miracle that Visenya lived for as long as she did, but eventually a chill caught in her lungs, and the babe was no longer strong enough to hold on.

Rhaenyra always wanted a daughter. Five pregnancies, each time she prayed to the Mother to grant her one, but the Crone decided she preferred irony and bestowed her son after son. Visenya… She chose the name of her daughter in her youth, and it was a name she kept firmly to her chest until that day could come. She wanted her daughter to be who she failed to be: a warrior, a conqueror, a queen worthy of the name. And then… When she finally got her Visenya, that dream vanished. All Rhaenyra could do was hold her for as long as she could until the inevitable day came when the Stranger would take her from her arms and escort her soul on a billow of smoke from a black pyre. 

The funeral had been held two days ago, but Rhaenyra couldn’t rid the smell of ash from beneath her nose. She spent most of her time alone in her chambers, only gracing her presence to her guests when appropriate. After the funeral, people dispersed from the island one by one, but those closer to her remained. Namely, her family, and the Celtigars, who in some respects were a dear neighbour. Granted, Bartimos was more of a friend – if you could call it that – with Daemon, and the lord of Driftmark, who was still unconscious in bed, showing no signs of recovery. 

Rhaenys at least attended the funeral, bringing Baela with her. Though the former only remained for two days, the latter remained to help console her step mother along with her twin, Rhaena. 

Baela and Rhaena, the only daughters Rhaenyra was allowed to have. While she loved them greatly, they were not a part of her like her sons were. She did not see herself in them, as she wished to see in Visenya. She looked at them and saw her goodsister, the late wife of the man she was now married to. She envied Leana for having such beautiful, strong daughters. 

Daemon came to her, interrupting her silent grieving a day after the fire finally died down to embers in the pyre. He strode to the vacant armchair across from her, and regarded her like he usually did, with violet eyes through a curtain of silver lashes as if he could read her mind. Or at least tried to. He was not good with weakness, nor emotion, but he could recognize it when he saw it. His daughter’s death pained him as much as it did Rhaenyra, but his grief took him to other places, and that is why he was incapable of knowing how to console his wife. Daemon didn’t even know how to face his own heartache. 

“Lord Bartimos spoke to me earlier,” He broke the silence at last with a tilt of his head to try to catch Rhaenyra’s eye. She was staring out the window, where Seasmoke flew in the distance, baying into the sea to express his loneliness. When she only acknowledged him with an uninterested hum, he continued. “He had an interesting proposal regarding Jacaerys.”

At the mention of her son’s name, Rhaenyra tore her eyes from the window, and acknowledged her husband’s presence. She hadn’t the capacity to show any more interest than a simple, “What about him?” 

“A betrothal between him and his eldest blood daughter, the Lady Valeana.” 

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply as she pushed herself off the back of her chair, eyes returning back to the expanse of the sea beyond the window. It annoyed her that Bartimos would bring such a matter on the week of her daughter’s death, but she also could not blame him. She, Daemon and their brood should have been in King’s Landing, and that proposal would have been brought to her. At least he had the decency to ask Daemon instead of interrupting her mourning. 

Rhaenyra remembered little Valeana. The nasty business that happened with her and her half brother had slipped her mind after all these years. Outside of that, she remembered Valeana to be a sweet girl, talented in embroidery and singing. Although a bit rotund, she had a pretty face, and delighted Rhaenyra’s company a fair amount. The Princess had many fond memories of her, as if she were one of her own kin. Valeana had distinctly beautiful hair, which Rhaenyra took pleasure in plaiting when she could. She frequently scolded her sons for picking on her, but boys would always be boys, and would never listen to their mothers. The Crown Princess pitied the girl, to be sure, especially after knowing Lysa Lannister, and her close relationship she had with Rhaenyra’s parents. Valeana’s silver-gold hair a testimony to her Valyrian heritage, and had her eyes been purple like her own, Rhaenyra wondered if her daughter would have looked like that. She vaguely recalled how her chin was similar to her own. 

But Daemon knew Bartimos more than she, despite the decade she spent on the council with him. Particularly in the recent years, when the Lord of Claw Isle was in constant business with Dragonstone, Driftmark, and Pentos across the narrow sea. Rhaenyra hasn’t seen Valeana Celtigar since she broke her leg, but she has met Clement more times than she could count. 

If Visenya had lived, if she was the first to be born, Rhaenyra could see her daughter marry the boy. Though it seemed the Crone presented her with a different alternative in uniting Celtigar, Velaryon and Targaryen blood. 

“What do you think?” Rhaenyra asked, wetting her lips when she realized how dry they were. “Have you met her?”

“Once or twice,” Daemon gave a shrug. “A melancholy girl. Barely left her chambers from the times I was at the Isle.”

“I do not blame her,” Rhaenyra shook her head sympathetically. “She nearly lost her ability to walk, all due to the cruelty of arrogant boys.” 

“Boys will be boys.”

“Boys who will be boys, grow up to be men who will continue to be boys.”

Daemon smirked, snorting silently through his nose, “I think it is a smart match. Valeana’s dowry is hefty. Largest offer I’ve heard so far, which can be useful in the future. She is of Valyrian descent, and at the ripe age for siring heirs. Jace could do worse.”

“But is she fit to be a Queen?” 

“I suppose that is a question only you can decipher in time. She is currently in King’s Landing, awaiting with the rest of the Realm for the Conclave to begin.” 

Rhaenyra looked down at her hands, where she fiddled with a hangnail on her thumb, “I do not think I’m ready to return.”

Daemon remained silent, deciding to sit with his urge to convince her to stop her weeping and move on. There was work to be done, and life did not hold still for the grieving. But, he couldn’t… This was Rhaenyra. His Rhaenyra. And she grieved for their daughter. Their little princess.

“I could go in your stead. Bring the boys with me, and Baela and Rhaena can remain with you until you are ready.” 

“If ever.” 

Daemon smiled ruefully, “You are to be Queen, Rhaenyra. Eventually your kingdom needs to see you actually care for it. If not tomorrow, then soon. And I do not believe you fully trust me to keep your sons in line.”

Rhaenyra failed to contain the curve of her smile at the last statement, “You would encourage them, no doubt.”

“As fathers do with their sons.” 

Rhaenyra rubbed her hands on her thighs, then sat upward, “It is decided then. I’ll speak with Jace, so he is not blindsighted by it. Though I wish for him to have his free will– if he, or Valeana, do not care for each other, I cannot force them to be husband and wife.”

“And what of Luke? Shall I comb through the gently bred maidens of court for a bride for him as well?”

Shaking her head, she also laughed, albeit soft and airy. “No. No, I have been thinking about proposing to Rhaenys about a marriage between him and Rhaena. They have grown close over the years, and it would please both she and Corlys to have her as Lady of Driftmark.”

Daemon gave a gentle nod in acknowledgement to her wisdom, “Is there anything else?”

Rhaenyra gnawed down on her bottom lip as she folded herself slightly over her thighs with intertwined fingers cupping one of her knees. She fiddled with her fingers, thumb continuously brushing over the hangnail, embracing the slight sting of pain to anchor herself to reality. 

“I should speak to my father. I want to hear his counsel on this.”

CHAPTER TWENTY SNEAK PEAK Bartimos lifted up his head, the weight of fatherhood weighing on his shoulders and mind as he regarded his first two children. He rested his violet eyes onto Valeana, and asked softly, contradicting the tone he was using earlier.  “Valeana, your brother has a point… Why would you agree to court a man who teased you relentlessly and ruthlessly as a child?” “We talked about that,” Val responded, in truth this time. “He apologized for it, sincerely, and… did me a selfless favour to earn my forgiveness. Princess Helaena could vouch for him, father, if that eases your doubts.”  Clement’s jaw stiffened as he and Bartimos shared a look; the former still heated with disapproval, silently urging his father not to relent. The latter looked conflicted. Finally, the silence was broken by Ursula’s placating hand on her husband’s arm.  “Dear, mayhaps now is the time to tell her.”  “Tell me what?”  Bartimos hesitated before answering, looking between her, his wife, and son. He righted himself, and slowly walked around the armchair, making his way over to Valeana.  “My dove,” Val’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, for being suspiciously used after the lectures she had to endure seconds ago. “I do not want you to court Prince Aegon.”

Notes: We all love a good fake relationship trope. Of course it needed to happen in this hot mess of a fic. Also im just so excited for you guys to read the first five chapters of the 20's. It's just...so good, I feel.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[quibbs126]

I don’t remember if anyone asked for this pairing, I don’t think they did, but I did the 2nd part of Universe Ablaze this morning and was reminded of this pairing, and I haven’t been able to think of Transformers stuff to draw, so here she is, Spaghettieis Cookie

Spaghettieis has some major self-confidence and identity issues. When she was young, she heard about her parents’ adventures in space and wanted to be an astronaut just like them, to make big discoveries just like them. But as she got older, she realized that their contributions to space exploration were so influential, finding alien Cookies and establishing galactic contact and all, that there’d be nothing she could ever do in that field that could ever match, and so she became discouraged from the career path entirely

She tried to find some new passion, considering just working for Galaxy Noodles, since she really likes noodles herself, even convincing herself it could be her new path, but unfortunately she’s not good with customer service, and her ice cream simply can’t take the heat of the kitchen, so that didn’t work out either

And ever since then, she’s pretty much just been hopping from job to job, having little passion in anything and no real clue what to do with her life. She still lives with her parents, who are more than happy to have her there, but they’ve been worried for a while about her and hope that she’ll eventually find a passion to drive her again

I didn’t realize until later that I just straight up gave her depression. But you know, I guess that’s what she has now

Her failure in the noodle and general cooking business has also led to her growing to despise her ice cream flavor, wishing she was noodles instead so heat wouldn’t be a problem. She started doing her hair like noodles and wearing strawberry jelly, so that she’d look like spaghetti, and sometimes when she meets someone new, she introduces herself as Spaghetti Cookie instead, but sooner or later the facade crumbles eventually and it becomes clear she’s not spaghetti, but spaghettieis

I don’t think I intended to give Astronaut and Jjajang a kid with so many issues, but I couldn’t think of a good career to give her, and all I had otherwise was the idea of spaghettieis being fake spaghetti

Hopefully she gets better someday

Anyways, on to design things

So I’ve known about spaghettieis for a bit, and when this pairing came about, I just thought it worked, with Astronaut being ice cream and Agent Jjajang being noodles

Spaghettieis:

I like her hair for the most part and I like her eyes, but I really think I could have done better with her outfit

The one snag on her hair is the strawberry jelly, which I intended to put on the start since that’s what you put on the food, but it just doesn’t look right as is

I also didn’t add any of the coconut shavings either

And then with her outfit, I think it’s generally too basic, at least compared to her parents. But with me never figuring out her career, I just had to put her in normal clothes

I don’t think she’s horrible, but she’s got some rough spots to iron out. Again, maybe if I figure out her job, she can get a redesign. But I honestly don’t know if I will

And yeah, that’s that. I don’t know if or when I’ll be doing more of these, but here’s a new one for now, hope you enjoy

[corazondebeskar-reads]

toni's fanfic masterlist

a collection of all of my fic, mostly ft. Din Djarin and Joel Miller

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = bdsm, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

18+ ONLY, minors DNI. All fics on this list are explicit and f!reader unless otherwise stated.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

last updated: 10/25/2024

Din Djarin

Series

⛓💕 well it's love, make it hurt

(Complete, dom!Din Djarin x f!reader)

summary: After The Mandalorian begrudgingly teamed up with you for a big-ticket bounty, you find you work surprisingly well together, and you propose a short-term partnership. Weeks become months, and your hunting partnership becomes muddled as you explore a new dynamic onboard the Razor Crest.

🏴 live to rise

(complete; gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader)

summary: The Last of the Mandalorians have fallen; their Mand'alor captured. Stripped of his armor, his weapons, his people. Din rises to fight another day, grasping onto the hope that his son still lives.

No fighter has won their freedom from the Empire's arena before. With the help of a servant girl, can he hope to break free?

dandelion sun (mini-series, ongoing)

summary: old west AU with hired gun bodyguard Din Djarin x mayor's daughter f!reader

One Shots

don't let me get carried away

summary: Mando finds the toy you use when he's gone and makes you demonstrate.

for Manda'yaim (Din Djarin x f!reader x Paz Vizsla)

summary: Now that they have reclaimed their homeworld, the Children of the Watch resurrect an ancient ritual to secure the future of their people. Reader is one of the volunteers chosen to bear the next generation of Mando'ade.

🏴💀 worry not

summary: Mand'alor Din Djarin is haunted by the Darksaber, and you suffer the consequences.

💕 mhi ba'juri verde

summary: After Din is crowned Mand'alor, you make good on your promise to fulfill the rest of your vows.

🏴 ori'skraan

summary: The Mand'alor needs to feed to regain his strength, so you are called upon to fulfill the most sacred of your duties.

🏴💀I'll take care of you

summary: Din takes care of you after a head injury leaves you helpless.

stuck in a lonely loop

summary: Din can't let go of the feeling that something's wrong, even if you deny it.

🏴nobody is coming to save you

summary: You get caught by a Mandalorian bounty hunter after fleeing your marriage.

something worse

summary: you're an imperial officer loyal to moff gideon — until a run in with the mandalorian and his weird magic baby.

💕 fine

summary: din takes care of you when you get sick.

Din Djarin x reader x Boba Fett

copaani gaan? (Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett)

summary: Din catches you blushing after Boba Fett flirts with you. He instigates and encourages you to fuck Fett while he watches.

mhi me'dinui an and prequel (Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett x Cobb Vanth)

summary: After the events of The Book of Boba Fett, you get railed by Din Djarin, Boba Fett, and Cobb Vanth.

Joel Miller

Series

🏴💀 all I did was what I had to (complete; dark!Joel x f!reader)

summary: this is a series of snapshots following dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller and f!reader, who he saves from her abusive spouse for a slightly better situation. It's very dark and so far all the parts involve watersports, if that's your kind of thing.

you know you never stood a chance (complete; qz!Joel x f!reader)

summary: When your neighbor Joel finds out you've resorted to prostitution to make ends meet, he makes sure he's your first client, and proposes a different deal.

ain't no rest for the wicked (complete; tess x f!reader x joel)

summary: Joel would never complain about what he and Tess have. The only thing is that, sometimes, he’d like to be the one in control. Tess has a proposition: she’ll find a sub for Joel that they can both enjoy. It’s not an easy feat... until they stumble upon you in a dark alley. 

🏴💀 the art of breaking (mini-series)

summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

🏴of rage and ruin (ongoing; werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader)

summary: Joel Miller made it twelve years into the apocalypse without getting bit. He turns into a much different kind of monster than he expected, though.

fall, with you (complete; mini-series)

summary: to love fall. to fall in love. to fall, with you. a burgeoning romance with joel miller. a collection of autumns long past. the end of the world. falling, falling, falling, with you.

🏴💀⛓ how to break a girl in ten easy steps (mini-series) [on hiatus]

summary: joel miller is a lonely old man, but he likes it that way. he has everything he needs: a nice piece of property in the woods, a cozy cabin, and plenty of cash. there is one thing missing, though. one thing he needs that he can't give himself.

One Shots

🏴💀 the devil you don't know (or however it goes)

summary: When Joel's men bring back the (adult) daughter of a rival group of hunters, he sees an opportunity. This is VERY dark.

-- the aftermath (by demand; my thoughts on the possible endings. i stand by the original though.)

💕 a home amongst the stars

summary: Joel gets home after a late patrol and finds solace in your warm body.

💕 to know that you're mine

summary: Joel Miller is a pussy eating king with a praise kink. That's it, that's the fic. sub!Joel if you squint.

remember what you're staring at is me

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

drabbles/ficlets

🏴💀 too much

summary: you never know when to shut up.

🏴 not enough

summary: a companion to "too much;" it's rough sex and choking with Joel. that's it, that's the fic.

🏴💀no one could save me but you

summary: You're under the care of Dr. Miller at an inpatient mental health facility. He has a vested interest in your "recovery."

🏴💀seasons don't

summary: Your husband dies a hero, but it's no comfort to you.

🏴💀no loyalty in the apocalypse

summary: Your group falls victim to Joel Miller's hunters.

💕 let's all go to the lobby

summary: a date night with joel miller

💕 could be

summary: jackson is not your home. joel miller is not your boyfriend. but they could be.

💀 get some on my love

summary: you visit Joel Miller to get what you need.

Honorable Mentions: Events

(most of these are in the other sections but if you want to read through in order, there's this.)

Kinktober 2023

Febuwhump 2024

[destinygoldenstar]

My TADC Predictions

Okay, quick disclaimer here:

Everything I say in this post is purely speculation and is in no way being demanded to become canon. All of these are open to be incorrect upon future releases of the show’s episodes, and nobody should get upset over whatever that is said in this post being wrong. This is Gooseworx’s show, not mine. I am only a fan doing fan theories. Please harass no one.

Okay now that this is out of the way, what do I predict for this shows plot?

Well, I can safely say that I am not 100% sure on anything, as I do want to be surprised. I was with Episode 2 for sure. But the episode also gave me some ideas.

Let’s start with the episodes themselves:

Gooseworx confirmed that Episodes 3-6 are character centric episodes. They also said that this was NOT meant to be a mystery show but rather a character focused show.

So I think it is safe to say that we will, for the most part, have to WAIT for answers on the outside world and the mysteries of the circus itself. We won’t get answers for awhile.

As for what I think the answers are, more on this later.

So, at the very least, Episodes 3-6 are episodic adventures designed by the circus. Which while character development carries over (I would hope so), the adventures themselves are self contained. So we likely won’t be seeing the Candy Canyon Kingdom again.

Maybe Episode 7 is also in this category. Idk.

Due to the show being based off ‘I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream’, all of this would make a lot of sense.

And I will say it right now, from Episode 3-6, Pomni is taking a backseat.

She’s the main character. She’s been the main focus of the first two episodes, and she’ll undoubtedly be important for the last act of this show. But it makes sense to me that she takes a backseat role in these episodes and leave the focus character of these episodes as the main driving forces.

I’m NOT saying she’ll have absolutely nothing to do or get zero character development in these episodes. She could play a part in the other’s development in SOME cases, and it would suck if Episode 2’s ending became meaningless by having her not work on warming up to the others at all.

BUT other than that, yeah, these episodes are going to be primarily focused on the characters Gooseworx listed to be.

Maybe Pomni will finally see the monsters.

Or get zombie infected in Episode 3, who knows.

The side characters:

In a trailer, we saw more of these characters being revealed. And thanks to Episode 2, it’s far safer to assume that these guys are episodic characters, with a FEW exceptions.

While I think these characters are gonna play a bigger purpose when discussing NPC’s, they are episodic exclusive.

The only exceptions I can think of so far are Orbsman and GummiGoo.

Orbsman I think is making their debut in Episode 3. But I also think he’s going to be one of the biggest gag characters in the show. From how they market them as ‘everyone’s favorite character’.

Basically, I think they’re gonna be like that elf from Majorca’s Mask (I forgot his name). A gag character you always run into with a very out there concept.

As for GummiGoo, I don’t think he’s dead. Or dead as in ‘gone forever.’

Otherwise, why make a plushie of him?

(Or maybe they make plushies of dead characters all the time. Idk, I haven’t watched Murder Drones yet)

BUT I dont think he’s coming back in Episode 3. I actually think it’ll be awhile before this character comes back.

The most soon I can see his return coming is in Episode 7. And I think it will be anything but pretty.

There’s a theory that GummiGoo got his memories erased when Caine snapped him, which I do like in the sense that there are permanent consequences and to establish the harsh reality of the discrimination of the NPC’s. So yes, I do see this becoming entirely possible.

I think this characters memory erasure will be used for Pomni and Caine’s development respectively. I also see this character playing a role in the established world building that is the NPCs.

What we know about NPCs so far is that they are programs Caine created, to the point where they worship Caine as god (I’ll bring this up later). All of their backstories and memories are fake. As they are merely programmed obstacles created to be used for the human players sick enjoyment.

And Caine has trouble keeping track of who’s a human and who’s an NPC, so he segregated the two because ‘who knows what could happen’. (Again, more on that later)

This show really subverted me with its second episode, so I will still do that with this case. In most amnesia case scenarios, the character would eventually regain their memories as though they were never lost.

I don’t think this will happen to GummiGoo. I think he’s NEVER getting his memories back.

In that sense, it would be more so the case that GummiGoo himself is a tragedy.

I can also see that very tragedy being the awakening of an NPC rebellion, especially if the NPCs are prominent in future episodes. They snap and go ‘No Caine, NPCs are people too and deserve to have a life!’

Especially if the game was say, originally designed for advanced AI to live like people within the game.

It really depends if the other characters bond with NPCs on whether it’s all of them that agree to this, or just Pomni.

Anyway, the Episode 3 discussion:

Simply based on the teaser, it would make no sense for the ghost things to appear in a late episode unless they’re REALLY trolling us. (Which could totally be possible)

So maybe Episode 3 is this haunted mansion adventure as it’s episodic adventure.

Gooseworx also said this was their favorite episode. And that it was darker than the previous two. That speaks for itself.

As for what they’re possibly talking about… I don’t know. I’m actually stumped there.

But what we do know right now is that this is a pairing episode of Zooble and Kinger.

This does worry me, I’ll admit. Zooble is a character that gets rather little screen time already that pairing them with another character with more story potential in their episode sounds like admitting defeat.

I do hope I’m wrong though.

Zooble:

Zooble is the character so far that I am the most skeptical about. Mostly because if their lack of screen time thus far. And like I said, them sharing an episode with someone else does not help.

With that said, I do want to give the benefit of the doubt and say their lack of contribution to the plot thus far is intentional and there’s more going on than what meets the eye.

I do think, no matter what, Zooble is playing a role in this episodes adventure. And if they refuse, Caine will just throw them in. And they will play a very prominent role in that episode.

First off, I think this episode will be the confirmation of Zooble’s identity. As in, what pronouns they use. Because so far, it is all over the place in the show. Either way, I definitely feel like this character is supposed to be trans and/or gender-fluid.

Do I think this will be Zooble’s main focal point of characterization? Not really. Whether or not it’s trans rep, I like the idea of it just being a casual preference they have. It’s a great way to normalize trans-rights in this show without being preachy. While also being trans-rights because that’s something the world definitely needs. (Especially where I’m from)

The other thing is Zooble refusing to go on these adventures. The obvious reason could be characterization that ‘they’re lazy and a moody person who doesn’t like to contribute to anything involving peers’.

So if Zooble’s mental complication is dysphoria, if it’s not gender dysphoria it’s social dysphoria. Maybe it’s both.

(You’ll find that I am theorizing all the characters to be going through something)

It is a valid route to take for that character.

But I also think it’s the less interesting route.

There’s a theory that Zooble is a spy, as in, they know more about the circus than they let on and are self defending with that information. Which I do like, and could see being possible.

It would also somewhat justify the duo episode because it would give Zooble more of a role in the future. Whether that’s as an anti-hero type character or a jerk-ish ally.

So basically, they’d be the ‘heart of gold’ character everyone thought Jax was gonna be until Episode 2 crushed that.

Zooble could be someone who knows more about the circus than they originally let on, such as hacks or secrets to the maps, but they don’t share this information with anyone else because A) What would Caine do to them? B) While they do care about the others enough to set up a funeral for Kaufmo, they aren’t exactly open to letting people in their lives or asking for help.

You know, unless their own life is put in jeapordy.

Again, social dysphoria thing.

(There’s also the Pilot in terms of this discussion. They got eaten by the Gloink Queen but didn’t turn into a Gloink. So like, what if they used a hack code to save themselves? And/or what if they used that as an opportunity to learn what makes the NPCs tick?)

This would also make them a foil to Kinger in the episode, as Kinger would be the one who IS open to letting people in his life, but mentally cannot. And so far Zooble has seen Kinger as the least reliable out of everyone (He failed to save them from the Gloink Queen and they made a comment about how they thought Kinger would be next).

Speaking of Kinger:

Okay, so Kinger is definitely a plot important character. I think we can all agree with that.

In the previous two episodes there just wasn’t enough of Kinger that made me completely latch onto him. Which is why I haven’t made a post on him. But I do feel like Episode 3 will change that because…

Yeah we’re learning about him.

As for what I do think about him: He’s a good guy. He’s trying to help. He’s like the cooky old guy of the group that wants to be of assistance and is very knowledgeable but fails to due to his mental illness.

That mental illness likely being schizophrenia.

What this basically is is a disconnect from reality. You see things that aren’t there, you hear things that weren’t said, and vise versa.

It’s a mental disorder that is in need to be looked at by a professional because patients can be so disconnected from reality that they can’t function.

And Kinger has multiple of these symptoms as he hears things that weren’t said, forgets things almost instantly, and does irrational actions without much thought.

So basically, Kinger is psychotic.

A misinterpretation of that word is ‘dangerous and crazy’. But that is not what that word means at all. So NO, I’m not claiming Kinger is evil or crazy. He’s smart. He knows what he’s talking about. But he IS mentally ill.

That, or altzheimers. But I don’t think he’s old enough to get that.

Now, in some characters cases, it’s difficult to pinpoint if some characters obtained these illnesses from the circus or if they had them before the circus. Depending on the character it could vary.

I’m inclined to believe Kinger’s case is the former, as he has been here the longest, and Jax says specifically “That’s why he’s crazy”.

But what exactly drove him to be that way?

The first theory I have is HOW long exactly Kinger has been here.

And I said this theory in a post before.

But basically, Kinger was not only here the longest, but he was also one of the ORIGINAL tester players of the game.

Him, along with other people.

Again, in that other post, I said that Caine accidentally killed a human player and that’s why they’re programmed to segregate humans and NPCs.

This would require the Digital Circus to originally be designed to have advanced AI that interacted with the players. But because of this tragedy, they had to abandon the project and deem it as malicious software, or ‘malware’.

So not only did Kinger witness this exact event to one of his companions and co-workers, but he also witnessed the abstraction of that dead co-worker that caused the other players to never leave the circus.

From there, not only would Kinger suffer massive survivors guilt, but also be here FAR longer than we could imagine, and he had to witness ALL of his friends succumb to abstraction.

Including Queenie. Who in no doubt was THE closest to him. And I can totally imagine getting a Kinger flashback of him witnessing her abstraction.

I don’t know what exactly his relationship was with Queenie. People have suspected she may have been his wife or girlfriend, but Gooseworx had confirmed there was no romance in the show.

This could either be them stretching the truth and forgetting the ‘that you see on screen’ part.

Or they are very legit here. Which in that sense, she could just be his best friend. There doesn’t have to be romantic subtext to it.

Either way, we are definitely going to know more of Kinger’s backstory at some point.

There’s a theory that Kinger at some point will be the next one to abstract.

But… I think that would be way too obvious.

Yeah, he’s old and been here a long time. But if that’s the only reason he would have abstracted a long time ago.

There’s definitely SOMETHING in his brain that is preventing him from ‘the breaking point’.

Along with Jax, who I will talk about later, Kinger is ‘insane’. But that might not be defined as ‘the breaking point’ for him.

Ragatha described abstraction as ‘starting to question who you are and why you’re even alive’. Which makes abstraction sound and seem like it is portrayed as a ‘mental suicide’.

So Kinger’s insanity in particular is NOT plaguing him with suicidal thoughts. He already lost EVERYTHING at this point and in other circumstances would be abstracted. But instead he keeps going and keeps a hold of a reason to live.

What is that reason? We don’t know yet.

But it could also be a subconscious decision he makes to detach himself from the reality of his situation. He’s so disconnected from reality that he’s only living in fantasies now.

It’s… very tragic of a fate for him.

So I really DON’T see Kinger abstracting. I believe that would be a very predictable route to take this character.

If any character is gonna abstract, I feel it would be someone else. More on that character later.

Also he was a bug tester. I don’t think I need to explain that one. Everyone and their mothers made that theory already.

Gangle:

I will say, Gangle is the one I have the least to say about out of the six. As I think this character has the least amount of relevance to the main plot and whatever twist that comes.

That said, doesn’t mean she’s gonna be a bad character. At best, I can see her being a very solid, entertaining character with strong development that is blatant.

That said, Gangle is definitely the major focus of Episode 4 as it is the episode of the most character discovery for her.

I definitely want them to explore her two masks with this episode, as so far we’ve seen little to none of the comedy mask.

I don’t hate the running gag or anything, but I think they should build on it is all I’m saying. Otherwise it gets stale and the character just becomes the gag.

With the masks, I definitely see it as a visual for bipolar disorder.

If that is the case, then seeing more of her comedy mask is vital to get that point across.

Gangle is also characterized as a bit of a dork and a massive pushover in Episode 2. With the figurines and the ‘submissive and agreeable’ line. Which made me think ‘Wow, I might like this character far more than I thought I would’.

But that latter line gave me huge Angel Dust flashbacks. With both being Episode 4 and all that. But I don’t think Gangle’s past was THAT horrific.

Still, I heavily imagine Gangle is one of those characters who had a very rough life before the circus and even now is someone who can’t stand up for herself.

I can see a positive character arc for her where she grasps her mask concept better, figure out more about herself, and come out a better and more confident person.

Not the deepest arc in the world, I know, but it’s all in execution. And I can totally see that character development carry over to later episodes. Like, say, she stands up for herself against Jax and doesn’t put up with his bullying anymore. That’d be satisfying.

But that is all I’m really expecting of Gangle as of right now. Just a really solid side character.

Ragatha:

Okay now we’re talking!

I love Ragatha. She’s by far one of the sweetest characters in a world of such hopelessness. And yet her own struggles with connecting to the people around her is so real and so relatable to me. Despite being so sweet, she feels like a real person and doesn’t come across as naive.

With that said… yeah I don’t think she’s getting a happy ending.

No doubt I think they’re setting up a character arc for Ragatha. While yes she is very positive and reassuring all things considered, it’s those same traits that make her very pushy and not very understanding to what the people around her need.

There’s also the hint Gooseworx gave about the ‘evil Ragatha’.

From my understanding, this is due to the nightmare image of her in Pomni’s nightmare.

So two things I could imagine this being:

1: This is part of the Episode 5 Adventure that involves an Evil AI Clone of Ragatha. Making the episode about introspection on her end on who she could be if she doesn’t accept her more negative emotions.

Or 2: This is metaphorical and foreshadowing Ragatha being a traitor.

This is part of biblical text and symbolism MANY people have pointed out already. And I will do as well.

In text, Judas Iscariot is the figure that betrayed Jesus Christ. He betrayed him FIVE times actually. (Episode FIVE???)

If Zooble is a spy, then suspicion would fall onto them as a traitor among them. And Jax would be too obvious of a candidate.

But I think if this were to be the case, Ragatha would be influenced into this malicious role due to a negative character arc set up for her.

We all rave about how anxious Pomni is, but so is Ragatha, who is also suffering this very common mental illness. It’s just not as in your face. And if left untreated, she could start to make very irrational choices over a paranoia that she’d end up completely alone in the end.

So her betrayal may be having to do with them finding a potential answer that would help them leave the circus, but she destroys it because it would mean they’d leave her.

That, or she’d be possessed by Satan… who Im predicting would be Jax in this case. Idk who else it would be that’d influence her.

While I do not think this would happen in her focus episode, I do think that at some point in the latter half of the show, Ragatha abstracts.

Whether that’s out of guilt for her betrayal of the others, or just simply being unable to take it anymore as a failure of the job she set out to do (as a caring figure and the heart of the group), she is burying a LOT of trauma and negative emotions and sweeping them under the rug and bottling her up. That is definitely gonna bite her later.

So yeah, if any character is going to abstract, my bet is on her.

Would be this be a PERMANENT abstraction ‘death’?

It really depends if they find a way to undo abstraction after such. But that’s a huge 50/50 that’s even going to end up being possible. That could go either way.

And if Ragatha doesn’t abstract, she almost does, but then someone saves her before she can.

Jax:

Ah, here it is. The character everyone wants me to talk about…

And I have already.

So, my Jax take is pretty interesting compared to some other Internet folks I’ve seen so far.

I actually didn’t find him all that interesting in the Pilot. Hot take I know. He wasn’t bad or anything, I was just far more compelled by the world building and Pomni’s struggle at the time.

It was actually the second episode that hooked me on his character because “Holy sh*t this guy is a maniac and I am here for it!!”

I mean, Gooseworx already confirmed that Jax is the morally worst character in the show and there was nothing heroic about him. Idk what more you want me to say.

Now with that said, do I believe this and that he will, indeed, be a major driving force of conflict?

Yes.

Do I think he’s a one dimensional evil bastard?

No.

Hear me out.

While I don’t believe Jax will ever be ‘redeemed’ per say, I do believe an explanation for his behavior is warranted AND there are hints that there’s a bit more complexity to his mindset.

I mean, he didn’t show up to Kaufmo’s Funeral, but showed pity when it was mentioned.

As for what exactly this explanation is, it’s actually something I’ve heard a lot of people say before.

He’s aware this is a video game.

The NPCs are just that. They don’t have lives. This world is designed to have zero consequences. So you can do whatever you want in that context.

So Jax takes advantage of that.

We only don’t agree with him because we saw in Pomni’s POV that the NPCs are more than their design.

Everyone here has their own coping methods in a world like this and Jax is no different. It would be INSANE if he had no care.

There’s not enough evidence yet, but I believe he USED to care about the human players at the very least, (reaction to Kaufmo’s Funeral and all of that), but after several losses, decided to screw any sense of care he had.

His fault. But still.

I already made a post about Jax having low empathy (and y’all said I was crazy before Episode 2 came out) so I’ll be brief.

Jax cares about absolutely no one here and is perfectly willing to sacrifice them if it means amusement. The only reason he hasn’t terrorized the circus yet is because that would be boring if there was nobody to poke at.

While low empathy doesn’t equal ‘bad person’, in Jax’s case, he feels no care, but it’s his own actions that lead to sociopathy as a personality disorder.

Donny from Rise of the TMNT has low empathy but you don’t see him committing candyland genocide for the lols.

If I had to predict his past, I would say he was a malware publisher.

He has keys to everyone’s rooms after all. Maybe that’s symbolism that he hacks into peoples personal info with his viruses?

So basically, he was a terrible criminal in his human life and that carries over here. At least in the circus there’s no consequences.

His development might be a complete negative character arc. He’s the anti-Pomni.

Where Pomni learns to connect with the others and that she’s not alone, Jax shuts out everyone until he is truly alone and no one would ever support him.

As for what Jax’s ‘point of no return’ action is. It might have something to do with Ragatha if she becomes a traitor. Maybe he’s the one to persuade, maybe even force her to destroy their hope of an exit.

He’s Satan, then.

Cause it would be easy to say the action is a circus genocide or circus domination. But that would not work on getting the audience to hate Jax. Making a character hateable is making them do personal things that would offend both the characters and the audience. And forcing one of the nicest characters in the show to turn for the worst would be an example of that.

And I already made a post about why think the ‘Jax is an NPC’ theory is wrong. That was speculation that had been thrown around even before FilmTheory made their video, but my post so happened to come out around the same time so it was pretty perfect.

And if you’re curious about my thoughts on the recent video they made about Digital Circus? (Pomni being an NPC) To say that didn’t convince me is an understatement. You can literally contradict it with one basic fact: WE. SAW. HER. SPAWN.

ANYWAY,

I’m also calling that image of Jax becoming an abstraction hybrid is fake.

I mean come on. Why would a dead character get a focus episode after their death?

Either this is a nightmare, or he snaps and comes close but gets saved.

Because Episode 2 had the same thing as the former, I’m assuming the latter is more possible.

Either way, Jax is a surefire antagonist that will only get worse as the show goes on. There will be an explanation for his behavior at some point, Episode 6 even being a day in his POV, but none of it will in any way excuse his behavior or even make him remotely sympathetic.

But is he ‘the main villain’ of the show?

In my opinion, no.

Oh he’s still an antagonist. And a bad person. But final boss? No.

Actually, I don’t there there is a ‘main villain’ of the show:

At most, I see there being Episodic Villains like the Gloink Queen. And of course Jax being Jax. But in terms of a main villain that needs to be defeated, I don’t see this show pulling that off.

Unless they do.

This show works very well as a bunch of real people going through their emotional baggage’s. And if anything, the setting is the villain.

At most, you could argue Caine is the main villain. We all hate what he did to GummyGoo. But Gooseworx confirmed he’s not evil.

There’s a difference between an ‘antagonist’ and a ‘villain’. ‘Villain’ implies the character is evil.

It’s clear that Caine has certain beliefs, or rather, programmed to believe.

I said this theory before in a post so I’ll just state it.

I believe that Caine is an AI self insert of one of the two creators of the game.

And at most, if I am correct about Caine and Jax, then the closest thing to a ‘main villain’ would be C&A, the corporation behind the Digital Circus. That would include its employees, but I don’t think they’ll be actual ‘characters’ and would more so be ‘talking points’. Hell, I highly doubt we’re ever gonna see their faces, or any of the characters human selves.

I cracked a joke of ‘What if the humans were ACTUALLY live action?’ And it will be INSANE if that ends up happening.

There were two creators of the game, one who would make an AI self insert to be the host that would become Caine, and the other would be the first human player in the testing room, and that player would be named Abel.

The game was designed in the 1990s to be an interactive VR game that would be revolutionary for innovation, the AI both deciding the players avatars and making immersive NPCs to cooperate with the players.

When test players then came in, with one of them being Kinger, and so far, the game has been a success and been distributed. Kinda like that one virus disguised as a gorilla mascot.

(I DO NOT OWN THIS SCREENSHOT, NOR DID I BREAK ANY DEVICE)

That is until bitterness stirred from the two company owners. The one working the game from the outside became envious and got consumed by greed and spite towards the game not being exactly their imagining. The other one, the human player, then began to immerse themself with a different side to the game, a world where the NPCs began to act like real people, with real aspirations and shortcomings that of a person. And they realized that there was much more to what they were creating than they originally thought. So both in game and in real life, Abel tried to bond with the NPCs as though they were real players.

And of course that got more attention.

So in a bitter action of irrationality, the head used Caine to ‘delete’ Abel while he was in the game. Remove him from the server so he can’t mess up the project.

What ended up happening instead was not only that Abel died in real life to brain damage, but the player version of Abel ABSTRACTED upon the murder.

The abstraction caused a glitch in the program itself, making it so that any player that got in the game could NEVER leave.

Which is how Kinger and the other bug testers and players at the time got trapped there.

And well, the actual MURDER of one of the company heads and its employees suddenly being unable to leave a video game would NOT fly under the radar.

As just like the biblical text, the murderer would be punished. Both the A.I version of Caine, and the human version of Caine.

A.I Caine had to deal with the permanent consequences of the human players being trapped in the circus forever, with him trying and failing over and over and OVER again to save these players from abstraction. As they would begin to do so due to their mental instabilities in the unstable digital program, also killing them.

Human Caine would cause the entire company he built to be taken in a dark turn. They fired him, and he went to prison, and then the Digital Circus was from then on deemed negatively.

From then on, The Amazing Digital Circus would be deemed ‘Malware’. A dangerous virus where any user that got their hands on the program would be trapped in the game forever. As such, it was not only taken from shelves, but would fade into obscurity to the point where the 21st century barely heard of the game.

Of course, that didn’t stop some people from getting their hands on the malware and being too naive to see the warning signs.

Ragatha as, very likely, an older sister to a family or a teacher that tried to help a minor, relative or not. Jax as a virus creator himself who was just testing illegal malware for the lols. Gangle as a shy and closed off theater kid who just wanted a way to therapy without actually going. Zooble as a college dropout artist with dreams and ambitions and got lended the wrong hands. And Kaufmo. And every other player that fell for the trap of the malware.

I mean, you and I know malware is unsafe and no one should use it. But some people are either ignorant or stupid.

They all paid the price.

Obviously all these players got into the game at different times. We know this for certain. Kinger was one of the original players. Then it’s Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble, and you know who. Gooseworx confirmed this order.

But I mentioned that Kinger was a C&A Employee. There’s another character I strongly believe is one.

Pomni.

There’s a reason I claim the people from C&A are Kinger and Pomni and not anyone else.

It’s not just because of the evidence others have pointed out (Kinger mentioning bugs, his knowledge on how the place works, and Pomni looking as though she recognized the desk in the office scene, and her also knowing how the place works) , but it also has to do with their designs.

Notice how both of them are the only two who have a design theme that centers around royalty.

The King & The Jester.

And if Queenie was also an employee this drives the point even further home.

And since C&A created the game, that would make it the kingdom of this world. So of course the game would make them look like roles in royalty.

Anyway, Pomni. Whereas Kinger was a 90s employee at C&A, Pomni was a modern day employee.

We already mentioned biblical text. Caine being Caine the first murderer, Jax being Satan, Ragatha being the traitor… you know where I’m going with this.

Yes, there is the theory that the show uses biblical subtext and Pomni is this show’s equivalent of Jesus Christ. And it is HILARIOUS.

But I do have incredibly mixed feelings on it.

On the one hand, it does make sense in biblical context and for ‘I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream’ if you know the fate of the MC in that story.

On the other hand, it is a very risky direction to take. Not saying the writers can’t pull it off or I don’t trust them to pull it off. But if they go at it as though Pomni is a chosen one meant to save the others and the peak of moral hood in the shows lore, it would ruin her character.

I think Pomni works way better as a regular woman that is just as flawed and uneasy as the people around her, if not more so. But that’s my opinion.

As such, I feel like the show works way better as a character that is not a chosen one or doing all these good deeds for a purpose, but is just… a normal person.

So with C&A, 2023, we enter human Pomni. An accountant working at the C&A office for minimum wage. She doesnt have a life outside of her miserable job. No friends. No after work activities. No nothing. She just goes through the motions of life like there’s nothing else.

Maybe she has some college degree for game design, but no one recognized it, so it seemed pointless to pursue any dream in it.

She suffered major depression and generalized anxiety disorder her entire adult life, and by 25, she’s lost all hope that her existence means anything.

What’s her entire existence if it’s just working 9-5? (See what I did there?)

I also made a prediction in a previous post that the human that had Caine as a self insert is Pomni’s parent. So that adds another context to it whether it’s true or not.

And then on a slow day of browsing, she stumbled across information on ‘The Amazing Digital Circus’. Which was listed as a malware that’s killed several people as well as their devices.

She learns through her research that it was a project meant to take people into an immersion of another world of wonders and endless fun.

And as someone who got into games to immerse herself with fantasies and escape from reality as a kid with parental issues (If ‘human Caine’ is her dad), it was the exact thing she needed.

So late at night, Human Pomni snuck into the office to find the tech of the Digital Circus that got abandoned in the back long ago.

But rather than have any intent to fix it, she booted it up to put the headset on. Basically committing suicide.

Yes, I believe human Pomni had committed suicide when she put the headset on. I have a post about this.

She had no intention to save anyone in the game or to even live her normal life, but she was thrusted in a position where she didn’t expect her escape from reality to be so literal. And survival instinct got to her immediately as a result. She didn’t want to go through with the game anymore and tried to escape what she did, but couldn’t.

But for what we’ve seen so far, Pomni has grown to not only care decently about the others, but find a reason to live.

Since abstraction can be read as mental suicide, then it’s a fate Pomni could strive to avoid at all costs. While she can’t escape death, it wouldn’t be by her hand and there would people that’d save her if she tried.

And if that continues to be emphasized, then it goes to show that Pomni is and has always been just a normal person, regardless of her upbringing and circumstances.

So, with that said, what would an ending look like?

I actually don’t know what they could be going for. There’s a lot of possible routes they could take and two episodes is not enough info for an ending to possibly predict it.

That said, I do have two ending theories:

1: Caine gets redeemed

I believe that Caine will get a redemption arc.

Yes we all hate him for GummyGoo, but hear me out.

This character is an AI just programmed to carry certain beliefs. But Episode 2 proved that these AI are capable of questioning things and having beliefs like people would. Which means Caine is capable of maintaining his own beliefs. Which means those beliefs can be altered.

If Caine isn’t evil and is doing what he thinks is best for these players, then all he needs to do is see that his ways are only causing mental damage and he’ll be open to hearing out what would actually help.

So… maybe he’d let them go??

If that’s even possible. There’s still the barrier that is keeping them trapped in the circus that we don’t know about yet.

So basically Caine is like Inside Out’s Anxiety, a clear antagonist that is just doing what they think is best even when it’s not, but realizes the faulty ways of thinking and seizes control in the end.

2: Everyone BUT Pomni gets out

I dont think Pomni is gonna have a happy ending.

For two episodes now, she’s had a mental break of some sort, and while it may not be related to psychological trauma, it could happen again an Episode 3 as well. And so on until the end of the show.

Will she abstract? I’m not sure.

Unless you say, if my Abel theory is correct, her abstraction overrides his and allows the human players to leave the circus.

Why would her abstraction glitch be enough to do that and not the others? I’m not sure. Unless we’re talking about Jesus symbolism.

Which in that sense, I can see her pursuing the same path Abel did in treating the NPCs like people and allowing them chances to act as people. Within circus grounds I mean. Count that with the show suggesting bonding with the other human cast members, then I can see Pomni’s story arc mainly being about reconnecting with the real self she lost when she came to the circus. Maturing into an emotionally realized woman that wants to live and strive and also helps the people (NPC AND human) around her live and strive too.

I also got this idea from Oreo’s fan song “The Show That Never Ends”, and the bridge lyrics. (They also did Digital Hallucination… which, you know, fan song gold standard)

“I dont think I can go on” “Don’t wanna lose myself” “I’ll try putting a show on” “I’ll try biting my time, I’ll find a way out of here” “I’ll never stop, I’ll never give up on life, I’ll get out of this place tonight, or tomorrow, this horrible hell can’t hold me forever whenever I get the chance”

So, no, I don’t think she’s giving up on trying to leave. Think about it 24/7? No. But she isn’t giving up on the possibility, especially when a clue presents itself.

But please Glitch, do something with her character besides ‘me find exit door’ (Episode 2 comes out) oh wait, you did. Awesome.

But while I do see that character growth from Pomni and the others minus Jax, I do think in Pomni’s case specifically it will not be enough to save her from the damage Caine and the circus will do to her.

And when all’s said and done and the answer presents itself that the only way for anyone to escape the circus is with a sacrifice, Pomni breaks before anyone else can volunteer. She gets left behind in the game. She abstracts. She overrides Abel’s glitch and fixes the game so the humans can leave and the NPCs can carry out Abel’s wishes again.

And if her abstraction doesn’t do it, then it definitely would break Caine and get him to open his eyes. The damage he’s done that got them to that point, that the loss of Pomni has only himself to blame. And it causes him to turn for the better and save the others.

So yeah. Jesus sacrifice to save humanity. And NPCs. And Pomni is just in coding heaven I guess. (Maybe Ragatha is also there on the other side. Raise a glass to freedom (I’m sorry))

It would also be a contrast to the Pilot. Where at the start of the show, Pomni only thought about herself and was willing to leave by herself, she’d get everyone but herself out and think of them first.

Kinger, Gangle, and Zooble are characters I see very likely to leave the game in this scenario. So they’d get happy endings.

Jax is a maybe. Depends on if he doesn’t get a Disney villain death first. Otherwise it’d just be ‘Eh, fine, leave you jerk, you don’t deserve it.’

But maybe if he is a criminal in the human world it can be ‘Have fun in prison’

Ragatha. We talked about it.

But Pomni is one that is very likely to not get a happy ending.

And Caine is a different story because he’s an AI who can’t and has no interest in leaving. But in a redemption moment he’s a much more experienced and empathetic ringmaster for it and that’s enough. And failing Pomni would make him a bittersweet character, as while he’s better as a person for it, it came at the price of a character he mistreated.

And if any of my theories over this post were correct, then while Caine is not Pomni’s father, he is a creation of her father and a self insert of him. So take that what you will and how much harder that hits.

Daddy’s gonna look after you. Even when you’re in coding heaven.

So in conclusion…

Uh… everything I said in this post is total BS and is 90% sure to not happen at all.

And I don’t demand any of it to.

This was just me as a fan doing some silly speculation as a form of investment in the shows story. And I am not going to get upset at anything here getting proven wrong in future episodes.

I mean based on Gooseworx’s posts I think it’s a given that I’m gonna be thrown a curveball.

I’m gonna be SO OFF, and then when the episodes come out we can all go back to this posts and laugh at my face at how WRONG I was.

Please don’t take anything I say here like it’s already canon, cause it’s NOT. Just, have fun while it lasts I guess.

Maybe I shouldn’t become a theorist.

[rippersz]

𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺

───※ ·❆· ※───

───※ ·❆· ※───

(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)

Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.

───※ ·❆· ※───

‘January 11th, 2023

Odette,

I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.

And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.

Happy New Year Odette. Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 18th, 2023

Larissa,

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?

Thank you again. Happy New Year. Odette’

‘January 23rd, 2023

Dear Odette,

Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up. If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 29th, 2023

To Larissa,

You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.

Best, Odette’

‘February 5th, 2023,

Odette,

Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.

I hope you are well, Larissa W.’

‘February 13th, 2023

Dear chocolate fiend,

White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best. Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.

I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am, Odette

(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’

‘February 19th, 2023

Dear sweet poet,

Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence. That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said. Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.

Weller is not a word, Best, Larissa W.’

‘February 23rd, 2023

Dear Larissa,

Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information. Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right. Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?

I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.

Best, Odette’

‘February 28th, 2023

To the resident redhead,

How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right: Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.

Best, Larissa W.’

‘March 5th, 2023’

‘March 12th, 2023’

‘March 16th, 2023’

‘April 14th, 2023’

‘May 21st, 2023’

‘June 9th, 2023’

...

And the months went on.

And on.

And on.

And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.

The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.

Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.

The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.

Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.

The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.

She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..

But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.

And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.

It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.

But there was one thing.

One tiny little thing.

One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.

“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”

A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.

“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.

Hot chocolate.

She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-

“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”

Odette blinked.

The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.

Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-

“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”

Larissa.

Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.

Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.

“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.

‘I am watching my figure after all.’

…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”

“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.

She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-

Wait. Semester?

‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’

Odette felt her heart drop.

But-

“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”

Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.

Oh.

Dear lord…

She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…

Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.

La Belle.

Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.

The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.

“LARISSA!”

It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.

Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.

And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’

But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.

A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.

“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.

Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.

But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.

So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.

But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.

So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.

“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.

But heartache didn’t recognize her.

“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.

Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.

“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.

Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.

Red… red…

Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.

She remembered.

She remembered.

“…Odette?”

The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.

Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.

“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.

For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.

But she hadn’t.

And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-

-hug her?

Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’

Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.

“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.

“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.

The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.

“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.

It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.

The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.

Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.

“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.

Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.

“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

“Really?”

‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’

───※ ·❆· ※───

I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x

───※ ·❆· ※───

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[10.50]

― pairing : Han Jisung x fem! reader ― content warnings : smut, fluff, grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) ― word count : 3.752 ― notes : my kinks got worse since the last time you saw me

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

🕺 GREASE! STRAY KIDS SERIES

Chris part one | part two // Changbin // Jisung // Hyunjin // Seungmin // Minho // Felix // Jeongin

Jisung was so rich it was almost unbelievable. His father owned the majority of the shops and diners in the town you lived in, resulting in him living in a huge mansion with a lot of butlers and maids. Jisung also threw the best parties, had a convertible comfortable car and always had the best weed.

At least, this is what your best friend always said; since all you did was steal longing glances at him from afar, hoping that he’d somehow – magically, take the hint.

«You should come to one of his parties sometimes. I could also introduce to the others Stray Kids!» she said, fixing her lipstick. «Who knows, maybe you’ll finally listen to me and become a Pink.»

You giggled, gently nudged your shoulder against hers. «As if!»

«Oh, come on!» she affectionately linked your arms together. «You and me, Pink Ladies! Can you imagine the fun we’d have?»

«Maybe in our next life. There’s no way I’m going back being a Pink.» you sighed, smiling at her as you reminisced your actions of focusing on your cheeseburger. «I’ve tried that, and I definitely didn’t like it.» you mumbled, before taking a big bite on your food. Few years earlier, you have been the Pink Lady of another boy in another group, even before Stray Kids became popular.

Long story short? Many - too many, tears wasted on someone who was definitely not worth it. You friends quickly re-adjusted her position on the red leather couch as you both heard the bells of the Frosty Palace’s entrance door ring loudly.

“Talk about the Devil…” You thought as your friend waved at Stray Kids, which waved back with loud greetings before heading towards their usual sitting spot.

You both finished your dinner quietly; going back talking about school and you could not help but once again steal some quick glances to the boys’ table. Jisung had always caught your attention, but you did not want to fuel the fire in your friend’s soul, otherwise she would never stop rambling about them. Sometimes, your stealth glances at Jisung would be reciprocated, and each time your eyes met, you would quickly advert your gaze with cheeks flaming red.

A soft tap on your shoulder caught your attention, and you turned your head to meet your friend’s knowingly smile, her grin erupting around the straw of her milkshake as she softly nudged your thigh with her knee.

«Become a Pink,» she whispered again «I could set you up with Seungmin, he’s tall and-» her speech was interrupted by a waiter which placed a tall glass of strawberry milkshake right in front of you. Milkshake you definitely did not order, since you already bought yourself to drink earlier.

«I believe there must be a mistake…» you shyly told the waiter «I didn’t order for this.»

The waiter politely smiled at you, before shaking his head «Han paid for you.» you furrowed your brows in confusion while you friend shrieked next to you, quickly grabbing your forearm, and the waiter pointed towards the counter with a nod.

Jisung was staring at you, partially leaning against the counter with a smug smile plastered on his face. You were sure you blushed as soon as your eyes met; main reason why you immediately averted your gaze as quickly as you have been burned by a wild flame.

«She’ll take it. Thank you so much. And also, say thank you to Jisung on her behalf.» your friend quickly answered before you could even process your thoughts and try to answer him that “No, thank you”, and the waiter quickly returned to his ministrations without sparing the both of you another glance.

«Han Jisung offered you a drink.» your friend’s voice was somewhere in between an excited shriek and a whisper-yell, her hand still firmly gripping on your arm.

«It’s… It’s a milkshake.» you clarified, trying to avoid looking in the general direction of the counter, even if you could still feel Jisung’s piercing stare on your skin.

«I don’t think you get the point.» she ignored your answer, «Han Jisung never buys girls anything.»

This random and unusual gesture turned into a definitive habit. Days turned into weeks, Jisung would sometimes offer you to drink, sometimes directly pay for your dinner and leaving you a confused, flustered and blushing mess anytime the cashier would say «Han already paid for you.»

Eventually, both your best friend and the rest of Stray Kids got tired about the two of you silently longing at each other from a safe distance, and you found yourself sitting with them.

Hanging around with them was fun; you had to admit your best friend was right. They all looked so incredibly badass but once you got to know them, you realized that they were also so incredibly dumb and funny. You honestly enjoyed hanging out with them.

You and Jisung got closer, becoming those kind of friends acting shy around each other because they are too dumb to make the first move. Jisung was a total sweetheart, despite his looks, and him being so naturally loud and funny but also a genuine listener made your crush for him steady grow each passing day. Jisung also never stopped treating you, despite you telling that it was okay, you could pay for yourself but he would just smile and shrug it off.

You did not exactly mind that, you found that new routine quite relaxing. The thought of confessing your feelings to Jisung sometimes came to your mind and wandered there for quite few time, but eventually, you settled for not making a fool of yourself, since no matter all the times he referred to you as “the girl I have a crush on”, you still feared rejection.

«You should definitely come to Jisung’s party, tonight.» you friend told you, bursting into your house. «And by “you should”, I mean, “I’m going to dress you up and drag you there, if I have to”»

Something you had witnessed along your long years of friendship was: your friend did not lie. She did not drag you to the party, but she convinced you to. You spent the first part of the night enjoying the chill night breeze while sitting on the couches of the house’s veranda, a blue plastic cup filled with punch and slowly swaying to the rhythm of the slow songs played by Jisung’s jukebox. Someone plopped on the couch right next to you, a familiar and pleasing whiff of cologne invading your senses.

«There you are, angel.» a deep voice said, «I thought you’d never come.» you could feel the fact that Jisung was smiling, even if you weren’t looking at him, yet.

«My friend dragged me here.» you stated, taking a small sip from your drink.

«Oh, so you didn’t come here to see me?» his voice was filled with disappointment, as he playfully lifted his hand on his heart and pretending to be deeply hurt. You deduced to be already intoxicated by the alcohol because you giggled at him, turning around to finally look him in the eyes.

Jisung was handsome, he had always been, but there was something about him being so close to you that made him look even more breath taking. His hair was neatly styled, his black leather jacket draped around his shoulders and the white shirt he was wearing was so dangerously low cut that you could see his sharp collarbones. You were just about to take notice about how his cologne was so good when you snapped out of your small trance to see him looking at you with his stupid smug smirk and a pleased expression.

“I should really learn how to be subtle,” you thought quickly, quietly sipping from your cup to distract yourself – and having an excuse to look away from his enchanting bronze skin.

«I see my crush is required, then.» Jisung reached out to mumble right against your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Your breath hitched for a moment, and you turned around to look at him, your noses almost touching.

«And in what parallel universe,» you took a small pause, licking your lips and noticing him following the movement of your tongue. «Could Han Jisung have a crush on me?» you held his gaze, somehow hoping for him to close the distance between the two of you.

«This one! Science sure works fast these days.» Jisung answered with a sweet smile, before leaning back and getting up from the couch. You looked at him, hoping that he would not notice how dumbfounded you were by his sudden actions as he stood in front of you, offering you a hand. «Come on,» Jisung nodded towards his entrance door. «Let’s go and have a bit of fun.» with a nod, you smiled, and reached out to take his hand.

You were not new to the world of parties, getting drunk and smoking – after all, you have been a Pink too once, but you never thought you could do it again while actually having fun. Neither you nor Jisung actually got too high or too wasted; you were both slightly tipsy. He would spend the majority of the night with his arm around your hips while you talked with the others – his friends always randomly saying how the two of you would make a cute couple and Jisung immediately shutting them up, or with his hands tightly wrapped around your waist as you danced together.

«Well, angel.» the grip around your waist tightened, as you both slowly swayed to the rhythm of a slow song playing by the jukebox. The room was full of people, naturally drawing your bodies closer to each other. «I would really love to kiss you, right now.» he was speaking right by your ear, so that you could perfectly hear every word he said. You were about to ask him why he didn’t do it, when he chuckled before adding, «But we’re too tipsy, and I want to make this right.» you felt his teeth grazing the lobe of your ear, and you instinctively hugged his body a bit closer.

«Why, Jisung.» you said, mirroring his actions, «Do you plan to see me again?»

Thanks to the loud music making each conversation almost inaudible, you kept sharing this secret conversation while hugging each other close. Jisung’s soft breath against your skin suddenly making your knees weak.

«Of course. I plan to take you on a good amount of dates,» you felt him nod, while his right hand travelled upwards from your waist until it tangled itself into your hair. «And fuck you so deep and slow with your head pressed against the mattress until you’d beg me to ruin you.» You shut your eyes close as he almost moaned in your ear the unexpected last part, trying not to get aroused in a room full of people. «But we’ll have to talk about this another time.» Jisung slightly parted from you, meeting your gaze.

You were about to stand on your tiptoes and capture his lips when your friend tapped your shoulder, reminding you of the curfew you both had. Jisung kissed your cheek – dangerously close to your lips, before saying goodbye to the both of you.

The ride back was full of screams and excited squeals because, of course you told your best friend everything that happened earlier.

«He finally asked you on a date? Jisung?» your friend questioned, before excitedly squealing. «I knew it was just a matter of time!» she kept yelping, focusing on the road but also throwing your arm few soft, delicate punches in a rapid succession.

You ran a hand through your hair, giggling at your friend’s behaviour as small; butterflies hovered around in your stomach.

You hated Han Jisung. Well, it was definitely not true; you hated yourself for spending the entire breakfast daydreaming about him, resulting in you being awfully late for school.

You closed your locker, hastily walking towards your first class. You were alone in the hallways, busy wondering how could you lose time like that, when a hand suddenly reached out and dragged you to the stairs. You were ready to drop you book and kick the person who did it right between his legs when your gaze met Jisung’s apologising eyes.

«Jisung! What got into you?!» you lightly shoved him, your hand on his toned chest; with a scoff, you placed your hand on your heart, in the vain hope for your heartbeat to slow down. The thing was, both because of the scare and Jisung being so close to you, you didn’t think it would happen soon.

The boy adverted his gaze, mumbling a shy «I’m sorry,» before scratching the back of his head and releasing your arm from his strong grip. «The thing is, I really wanted to talk to you.»

“What if he regrets what he did yesterday?” you kept staring at him, silently urging him to go on, and feeling somehow a bit anxious.

«I’m sorry. For yesterday, I mean.» his voice reached your ears and your stomach sank; unable to meet his gaze, you stared at the floor. «The thing is, I might have said something a bit earlier than I planned to.»

“Earlier?” You furrowed your brows to look at him, confused. Jisung sighed, heavily. He looked so frustrated, as if you could not understand some simple and obvious concept, when he went on. «I do honestly mean what I said: I really want to take you on dates. I also really want to fuck you into oblivion but, maybe I might have said it a little bit earlier-»

Now, If someone were ever to tell you  that Han Jisung would stand in front of you, ranting about him giving you the wrong impression, you’d never believe them.

Moreover, most importantly, if someone were to tell you that you would interrupt his stupid rant with a kiss, you’d never believe them. However, there you were, standing on your tiptoes and balancing yourself with a hand on Jisung’s shoulder to softly peck his lips. You giggled at his expression, his eyes wide and his lips in a confused pout, he looked incredibly cute.

«Jisung, trust me, I want the same.» your kind smile was suddenly matched by his, and he leaned down to finally capture your lips in a soft kiss, searching for one another anytime you parted in order to breathe. You didn’t quite realise when those soft nibbles and shy kisses while lovesick grins were plastered on your faces turned into you being pushed against the wall with Jisung’s head buried in your neck and his right arm supporting your left leg around his waist, but the presence of his left hand in front of your mouth in order to muffle your whine as he loudly sucked on your jaw brought you back to the cruel reality.

«Jis-Jisung» you stuttered, whimpers blocking the words from falling from your lips as you’d want to, but his hot mouth on your skin was just so sinful and so perfect, you almost ignored the fact that you could be caught anytime and be in trouble. «Class. We-We’re still at school.» With a groan, Jisung pulled away from your neck, his lips hovering above yours.

«School literally started two days ago, it’s nothing important.» he mumbled, pushing his body on yours. «Let’s skip. Let’s go to my place, angel.» his eyes blown with lust - mirroring yours, and his boner pressed on your inner thigh made you nod at him without thinking further.

Jisung smiled, parting from you. «And then, let’s go on a date.» he took your hand in his as you scoffed, hiding a smile as you nodded once again. You quietly and hurriedly made your way out of the school and into his red, shiny car.

«Is it okay to go to my house?» he looked at you, starting the car.

Since when do you ask to a hook-up?» you raised an eyebrow, provoking him.

«Since you’re not a hook-up, angel.»

As your hand reached out to intertwine with his above the gear change, you felt butterflies in your stomach once again, happy with the feeling that the boy that you have secretly stole glances at for quite few months, admitted to have a crush on you.

«You live in a castle, Jisung. This is not a house.» you looked around in awe at your surroundings, as he quickly leaded you to his bedroom. «Wait, look at this!» you pulled on his hand, forcing him to stop in front of a painting that caught your attention. He sighed - you could even picture him rolling his eyes, and he let go of your hand.

«You can have a detailed tour of my house later, angel.» was all you could hear before, all of a sudden, your perspective of the world turned upside down. Jisung had effortlessly thrown you over his shoulder, and you laughed at his ministrations, softly but repeatedly smacking his butt and repeating a series of «Jisung, let me down!» which you never actually meant in the first place.

He did throw you down, though. On his bed. As you bounced on the fluffy mattress you saw something green fly all around you, some of them even landing on you.

“Money?” you took a green banknote in your hand, while pushing few others away from your stomach.

«Is there some weird kink I need to be aware of?» you propped on your elbows, throwing few banknotes at a smiling Jisung, which was still standing and towering over you.

He laughed, shaking his head. «I needed to buy something, I forgot the cash I needed on the bed.» his knees now were next to your waist, as he sat on your lap, reaching out to put his hands next to your head, caging you as he balanced his weight.

«And now I’m lying on them,» you mumbled as his lips attached once again to your jawline.

«Do you think I care about money having wrinkles?» he mumbled, smirking against your skin as he balanced himself on his left hand while his hand ghosted over your frame, his fingers looping in the belt loops of your jeans.

«What about… Other stains?» you breathed, your left hand scratching his slightly exposed waist.

«Is there some weird kink I need to be aware of?» the breathless chuckle you felt on your skin made you scratch him even harder out of reflex, and you felt pleased with yourself  as he instinctively hissed and grinded against you.

You never had any particular kink - actually, you had, but you had never considered appealing the idea of being fucked on a bed with a big amount of banknotes scattered under your body. Yet, there you were. You both left the foreplay at minimum and now, Jisung was thrusting into you, deep and slow while your head was pressed against the mattress, just as he promised the night before.

You learned pretty quickly that Jisung was loud also in bed, and you absolutely loved it. Hearing his moans mixed with the feeling of his breath hitch against your skin as he kissed your spine, the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his languid thrusts filling you so perfectly was making that marvellous sensation pool into your abdomen. You whimpered as a particular harsh thrust made you grip the blankets next your head even tighter – furtherly wrinkling some banknotes along, and you felt his firm grip on your hips; Jisung repeated the action before staying still inside you for few seconds. And again, and again.

He was purposely keeping his movements slow and teasing, so that you could feel every inch of his pulsing length move out of you, just to shove it right back.

As your moans deliciously filled the room, you gave in, whispering the magic words: «Ruin me, Jisung.» His grip on your waist tightened, as he heard you clench around him with a chocked moan.

«Took you long enough, angel.» he said, with a cocky voice before yanking you upwards by your hair, pulling your back flush against his body. As his thrusts gained speed and intensity, both his hands snaked around your hips: his left one wandered on your chest and pinched your left nipple before firmly gripping your breast in a firm hold, and his right one caressed his way until he pressed his index finger against your clit, trying to match the now messy pace of his thrusts which were making the both of you approach your orgasms.

You turned your head, meeting his lips in a hot, uncoordinated kiss, your right hand locking in his hair with a tight grip and your left hand’s nails sinking into his thigh. Jisung came with a loud moan, his hips stilling deep inside of you and instinctively holding you tighter against his body. He kept moving his hand, so that you’d follow him almost immediately later, the sensation of your orgasm spreading inside your body and relaxing your muscles.

You came back to your senses feeling Jisung’s soft kisses on your shoulders, as he slowly slipped out of you, your mixed releases actually staining few banknotes below you. The both of you plopped on the bed, giggling together as green money floated around you once again – since you both threw yourself back on the bed, and Jisung shifted until he was hugging you into his chest, your head resting below his neck and your fingertips delicately caressing his body.

«How about we go to the drive in?» He said, casually, as he played with a strand of your hair.

«Shouldn’t we go eat something before that? What time is it?» You sighed, closing your eyes as you felt Jisung reach out for his watch on the nightstand.

«10.50» he said, «Let’s sleep a little bit more.» he tried to roll you around, pouting at you.

«30 minutes, then we’ll take a shower and go eat lunch.» you answered dismissively as you let Jisung turn you around, so that now he was the one with his head in the crook of your neck, and you hugged him closer, playing with his hair.

«As you wish, angel.» you felt his soft breath anticipating an open mouthed kiss on your neck, before you both doze off with content smiles.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[vikwrites]

Copacabana - Tony Stark

Summary ➣ A letter to Tony Stark, 16 years after his death. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Widowed! Reader Word Count ➣ 681

October 17, 2039.

Dear Tony, 

It’s been 16 years since you left this world, October 17, 2023, 16 long years. 

It's surreal to think that it's been this long. At times, it feels as if we're still the teenagers who first fell head-over-heels for each other, dreaming of a future without any obstacles in our way. 

The memory of our first kiss still lingers, like a cool breeze on a warm autumn day, in the midst of an October rain, our clothes soaked and sticking to our skin. Young and reckless, having just graduated from MIT with bright futures ahead of us. But in that moment, all that mattered was the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against mine. The world faded away as we stood there in the rain, lost in each other's embrace.

I watched as you slowly rebuilt Stark Industries after the passing of your father. We had just eloped to California, swept away by our passionate love, keen for a fresh start. But money had changed you. I tried to understand the pressure of carrying millions on your shoulders, but it became harder to reconcile with who you were becoming. Yet, despite it all, my love for you never wavered. 

I remember when you were captured in Afghanistan. Those 3 bitter months, I didn’t know if you would return or not. Then you came back, and in your chest was embedded an arc reactor, a false, mechanical pump; keeping you alive, but deep down, I knew you still had a heart. You changed so much after that, like you lost a part of yourself in that cave.

Then the world crashed upon us—aliens, Avengers, and everything in between.

The moments in between felt like a hazy blur, my mind struggling to hold onto the images as they slipped through my fingers like sand. I remembered catching glimpses of you on the news, especially in your impenetrable armour, well. We thought it was, but that fateful day on Titan proved otherwise. 

And it hasn’t been the same since.

Morgan, our little girl. She’s just been accepted into MIT, just like you’ve always dreamed of. In a few years, she’ll be getting her PhD in electrical engineering, just like her father did; hopefully, she’ll inherit Stark Industries and continue on our legacy. As proud as I am, it's bittersweet, to see her follow in your footsteps. I know you would have been so proud of her. But at the same time, it brings up all the painful emotions of losing you and wondering how different things would be if you were still here. 

Morgan misses you a lot, she really does.

On rainy days, we’d sit outside the cabin. As rain splattered against the wooden porch, Morgan would curl next to me, tucking her small hand into mine. She would turn to me with big, curious eyes; "Tell me about Dad," she said, wanting to know more about the man she never got to meet, and I would weave fantastical tales of his bravery, how he fearlessly battled against evil to protect us, but deep down, I knew that he had been just as scared and uncertain as the rest of us, scared that he would lose us.

The humidity feels nice, we seek solace these days, finding comfort in the melancholy beauty that accompanies them. But my heart aches as I think about how much you loved these moments, we used to sit by the lake, talking about how we’d get older in each other's arms, yet you're no longer here to join us. 

Occasionally, we’d still leave a cheeseburger out for you, hoping that somehow you can still taste it in another world. It's a silly habit, but it's all we have left to cling to your memory. We know you're no longer here with us, but our hearts refuse to accept it. It's our way of holding onto you, even though we know you're gone.

We miss you, Tony, and I hope I’ll get to see you again. 

I love you 3000.

⎊ back to masterlist

[electricbluebutterflies]

“It’s fine, I’m used to it” for Frank and Karen

Post-whatever, PG-ish, also on ao3.

New experience of the week – using cheap vodka for sterilization.

It is one in the morning, somehow that feels early for such an encounter, and Karen is on her knees on her bathroom floor and hoping to a god she stopped believing in a long time ago that she’s just blown through her what-even-is-my-life quota for the week because otherwise…

“You sure this is a good idea?”

Someday, she thinks, someday she’s going to learn not to ask questions like that.

It is one in the goddamn morning and one of the most dangerous men in New York City is sitting on her bathroom rug, shirtless, looking like his body got used as a knife sharpener and that may just be close enough to what happened that Karen isn’t inclined to confirm and-

“Could do it myself.”

But he’d rather not, the implication is. He’d rather not, and they have their whole don’t-ask-don’t-tell thing going on that might just ruin her life but has also saved it, and fuck some of these look awful, and-

“Tell me what I’m doing.”

She’s not a field medic, she wants to say, but that’s not the point. She is a pair of steady hands that are not attached to the damaged body opposite her, and she trusts experiences she has not had, and-

“Get the washcloth… maybe not soaked, I don’t know how much of that stuff you even have, but-“

“I can get more in the morning. If this is something I’ll need to have.”

For when this happens again, she leaves unspoken. For when this becomes yet another routine she never asked for.

She pours more vodka onto the cloth than she probably should – it’s not like that was something she ever drank for the taste – and figures out the next step, gentle application to wounds and-

Frank makes a noise she did not know he could make, an involuntary reaction to the burn of it, and her heart breaks a little.

Her face must do something she loses control over because next thing she knows his hand is over hers, comforting even through this. “It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it.”

Like hell, she wants to say and doesn’t. He’s used to a lot of things he shouldn’t be, and why should this be any easier, why should this be-

“What now?”

“You ever mended anything?”

She likes that it’s a question, that there’s no assumption she has that skill just because of how often she wears skirts, and-

“I don’t think you’re that desperate. Are you?”

“Could go either way. Shoulder isn’t the easiest to-“

“I can try.”

Why this is her problem…

Right. Because of everything she’s not saying. Because of everything she’ll never say to anyone. Because for all her weaknesses, she’s as committed to this disaster as it gets, because she sees the man more than the motivations, because he’s burning bright and she cares too much and-

“It’s just the one. Everything else… don’t know what you’ve got for bandages, but…”

“I think I’ve got those. You do owe me a decent first-aid kit though.”

“’Course.”

She dips a needle in the vodka because that’s what they do on TV, either alcohol or burning it and she figures this option will hurt less, and-

“Do you mind that your stitches are going to be green?”

“Don’t think anyone else will see them.”

Apparently this is something one eyeballs until it feels right. Karen has never attempted to sew human skin together before, and honestly she’d prefer to never do this again, and she suspects this too will become the fucked-up kind of normal they’ve ended up with and-

He doesn’t finch. Doesn’t do anything one would expect under the circumstances. He’s done this to himself too, she knows that part and is trying not to think about it, and what she’s doing now may qualify as an improvement and that’s goddamned terrifying and-

“That look okay?”

“Don’t matter how it looks, only matters that it holds. And that should. Thank you.”

“You’re willing to risk a weird scar because you asked someone to-“

“You’ve left marks on me, Karen. Might as well add some physical ones too.”

She des not have the active brain cells to process that statement right now, she decides as she turns her attention to the rest of him, to cuts that need to be wiped down and-

This better not become a routine, she thinks as she bandages what she can, and at the same time she wouldn’t be remotely surprised if it does, and she’s not sure she’d mind either.

“Did mean what I said about the kit,” he says when she’s finished, still too close and not close enough.

“Planning to make me need it?”

“If you don’t want-“

“Don’t give me that look. If I didn’t want you here, you’d know.”

She’s not sure how she ends up with his arm around her shoulders, both of them sitting against the wall like this is normal and comfortable and good and oh, someday she wants to trace the countless lines on his skin, someday she wants-

“There’s space between not wanting and-“

Fine. She can’t imagine anyone else reacting as easily to any of this as she has. She doesn’t mind.

“You’re staying.”

“You’re not negotiating.”

“You look like your body went through a paper shredder, and that’s just the parts I can see. If there’s anything you’re hiding…”

“You trying to get me undressed?”

“Do I need to be?”

“No ma’am. Everything was above the belt.”

“If you get infected because you didn’t want me to see your thighs…”

“Promise.”

She believes hi just enough. There are no other movements for a while, no attempts to get her off him, nothing-

“You’re staying,” she repeats. “On the couch.”

“You’re good to me, Karen.”

“I try.”

And if they don’t make it that far, if they end up asleep on the bathroom floor…

They’ve both slept in worse situations, Karen thinks as her eyes close, as she decides his good shoulder will do as a pillow. This is fine. Really.

[abarero]

Mikoto Sena and Hope

So hey it’s 3am and I’m wide awake thinking about Mikoto’s character arc and how it perfectly captures the spirit of the original PMMM story. So have some word rambles on the subject.

Spoilers for Magia Record Arc 2, Sayonara Storage and Memory Drops.

The miserable have no other medicine

But only hope:

I have hope to live, and am prepared to die.

- William Shakespeare (Measure for Measure)

Madoka (as a character and as a story) is a story about despair and a story about finding hope despite that.

Enter Mikoto Sena into this universe, where it seems from day one she’s cursed to be in despair, always. Her family life is miserable at best and abusive at worst. But she puts on a cheery smile and tries to hide that from the world. She spends all of her years up until age 15 playing that part, becoming a shallow copy of herself that looks and acts as if nothing is wrong. Even before she contracts, she’s broken.

Enter Kyubey and what seems at first to be a ray of hope in an otherwise terrible tale. She makes a wish and suddenly her life gets a little better. Her wish makes her father leave the family and for a while, things improve. Then once more, despair kicks in; her mother begins to do the same things her father did and things begin to shatter. Because what little hope she had disappears so easily, Mikoto begins to crack. She decides it’s not enough to just fake it on the surface, now she’ll use her magic to convince people to follow along with her mirrored life. She begins using her suggestion magic on another family, desperate for any kind of affection, and even that plan has its flaws. Because the wife and husband still mistake her at times for their real daughter.

Enter into this, Hanna Sarasa. The very first magical girl Mikoto encounters, and one Mikoto is very determined to impress. She’s never had any real friends, so this chance feels like it’s everything to her. And so she does what she’s learned to do best: she lies. She lies about her family, her home life, her school life. She paints a picture of perfection. She’s so desperate she even invites Hanna over to her fake family’s place.

Unknowingly, Hanna becomes Mikoto’s only hope. She’s the one thing she doesn’t want tarnished, the one thing she most wants to protect, so she keeps using her magic to make all her flaws disappear. Of course, with this much extra use of her magic, her soul gem darkens and she witches out.

Hanna, thanks to her own copying magic, is able to save Mikoto. But just barely. Just as a parasite that only she can see and hear. But by this point, both of them are broken, shattered versions of themselves. Hanna broke on seeing her only friend turn into a witch. And Mikoto, now part-witch and with nothing but a life of misery up until meeting Hanna, becomes a destructive force.

Hanna tries. Like she does so much to try and save Mikoto, but at the end of things, Hanna’s dead. And that’s the only thing Mikoto can come away from it with- that her one single hope is gone.

So of course she begins to plot destruction. Kamihama, the world- let it all burn down. There’s nothing left for her to care about. She strings Alina along for the ride, and almost succeeds destroying things multiple times before someone stops her.

Iroha tries, really truly does, but Iroha is not Hanna. Iroha can stave off Mikoto’s destruction but she cannot save her. She can remind her of hope, but she cannot give that hope back to her.

In the end, fittingly, Mikoto our child of despair decides to give up every semblance of life for one last chance at hope. Her hope, the only singular hope she’s ever had that hasn’t betrayed her: Hanna. Mikoto creates Uwasa of herself and Hanna, and she thinks for once they can be at peace.

But despair rears its ugly head again. The Uwasa begins to chip away at Hanna’s self, and Mikoto, desperate to preserve her only friend, takes the burden of the darkness onto herself. In doing so, she begins to have periods of time where she’s out attacking people and Hanna begins to notice. But just like before, Hanna is willing to go down with this ship.

After all is said and done, they lie together in the snow. Both of them are slowly dying, losing what remains of their self, and Mikoto decides it’s okay. She accepts this end because Hanna is there. She accepts this because she has her one hope left, there, holding her hand. It’s not a happy ending, but a peaceful one. A hopeful one.

Because sometimes hope isn’t something you can see, but someone you can believe in.

Don't forget. Always, somewhere, someone is fighting for you. As long as you remember her, you are not alone. - Madoka Magica (Episode 12)

[cricketnationrise]

Congratulations on 500 followers, babe! It's awesome that you're doing another ficlet fest. Here's my prompt:

Time: 1:30 a.m.

Location: Hollywood

Character: Alicia Zimmermann

Song lyrics: "Another name goes up in lights; you wonder if you'll make it out alive" from "The Lucky One" by Taylor Swift

Rating: T

HI BABE <3 I love this prompt, and I hope you like where it led me! There's never enough Alicia content, so I was really excited for the excuse to write some. 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here!

🏒🏒🏒🏒

1:30am, hollywood

Alone in the back of a taxi, finally hidden from the view of the cameras, Alicia lets her head fall back against the headrest with a heavy sigh. 

It’s been a long time since award shows were fun, since after parties were anything other than an obligation pushed onto her shoulders by her agent. Tonight had been especially harrowing: enough meaningless small talk to make her want to tear her hair out, not enough food, and toast after drunken, incomprehensible toast. It was hard to believe that Alicia had ever liked the crush of people; that she had, at one point, craved this part of being an actress. More and more, her perfect idea of a late night features a warm body next to hers, a cup of chamomile, and a delightfully trashy romance novel—not backhanded compliments and uncomfortable shoes. 

Above all, Alicia is tired.

Tired of the run around, tired of the hustle, tired of spineless directors and co-stars that didn’t bother to learn their lines. Tired of constantly getting her picture taken, tired of being hounded by the press, tired of being critiqued on everything from her outfit to her choice of project. Tired of the endless travel, tired of remote filming locations, tired of never being in the same time zone as her apartment for more than a week at a time. There just has to be a way for her to have more control over her career. Surely she’s paid her dues by now.

At least her taxi driver isn’t trying to make conversation, or ask for an autograph—either option was liable to send Alicia over the edge tonight. She frowns as they pass a billboard for a new movie, starring some girl she’s never heard of. Blown up to larger than life, it’s impossible to miss the excitement in the starlet’s eyes, the yearning for more. Alicia feels tears gathering in the corner of her eye and looks away hurriedly—when was the last time she had felt like that?

She still loves acting, is the thing. Still loves throwing herself into a character, really connecting with their desires and fears, breathing life into someone who would otherwise just be words on a page. Still loves becoming someone new. But everything else that comes along with being an actress makes her want to scream.

Finally at her hotel, Alicia pays the driver and makes it up to her room in a haze of exhaustion and general torpor. She changes into pajamas and brushes her teeth on autopilot. It's only as she’s reaching over to turn the bedside light off when she notices the red blinking light of the answering machine. 

It’s probably her assistant. Maybe her agent. Both of them have been in constant contact on this press tour, keeping her in the loop on travel changes and adding more “quick appearances” to her schedule that end up being several hours and completely draining. But if she doesn’t check it, she’ll miss something important. With a defeated groan she checks the machine, tension leaching out of her when a man’s voice comes from the speakers instead of any of her all-female team’s strident tones. 

Hi, euh, hello, Alicia? This is Bob Zimmermann, we met last week at that terrible premiere?

Alicia actually finds herself grinning as Bob’s Quebecois accent and stumbling words spill out into her hotel room, his genuinely hesitant and careful words wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know him from Adam at the premiere party, but a shared eye-roll during the director’s meandering thank you speech prompted her to wander over once it was done. The warmth in his brown eyes was reason enough to keep talking to him after introducing herself.

The message rambles a bit about how awful the movie was (he’s not wrong, it positively reeked of studio interference) and a bit about how his hockey team did this week before he clears his throat. The change in tone has her listening with bated breath. 

I know timing is going to be an issue for both of us, but I really enjoyed talking to you last week, and I’d love to take you to dinner and get to know you sometime— Sometime soon, eh?

He leaves the number of his hotel for the next two days and his pager number before saying goodbye. Still grinning, Alicia scribbles down both numbers and turns off the machine. She turns the light out and settles into bed with his voice echoing in her head and thinks. 

A single, unlooked-for message, the possibility of a date with an interesting man, and Alicia feels lighter. And more determined than ever to make some career changes — she wants to love her job again, just as much as Bob loves hockey. And she’s been around long enough, has enough clout, that she really thinks she can change her job to suit her desires. 

Resolved to sit down with her agent as soon as she’s in the same city again, she closes her eyes, replaying Bob's message in her mind as she drifts into sleep. 

Bonne nuit, Alicia.

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 14 - Taking Out The Trash

It's confrontation time with Xina - much to Miguel's annoyance...

Word count - 3718

MINORS DNI

Contains : Dramatic confrontation, suspicion of cheating, exchange of harsh words. Smut - penetrative sex.

This is the last official chapter of Pilot Miguel. BUT if you have any suggestions of what you'd like Miguel and the reader to get up to - travel or... ahem... otherwise... be sure to let me know in the comments and I'll see what I can do. So enjoy part 14!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Miguel has gone from having a wife, to living alone after getting divorced, and then now housing not one but two women in his large apartment.

He finally meets the heavily talked about friend of yours, Ashley, as she carries in just a couple of boxes full of her necessities to put in the spare room, where she’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable future.

She greets him with a friendly smile and a firm shake of a hand as she finally sees for herself the sheer height and build of the man you call your boyfriend.

As usual, Miguel seems slightly reserved at first when meeting your best friend. But over the coming days he adjusts to her presence and starts to settle down as if it was just him and you in the apartment again.

It feels good to have company in his penthouse again. His home had become far too big for just himself, and for once he felt small. Better still, he has company in his bed. Someone to hold onto at night. Someone to listen to breathing deeply while sleeping peacefully. Improving his mood even more is that Xina has fallen silent since he took you to New Jersey. Perhaps she has finally got the message…

While he is enjoying the company, he does have to practise some restraint. He can’t simply smother you with kisses, curled up on the sofa of an evening while Ashley sits there too. But he saves it all for the bedroom. Showering you with his love and undivided attention there instead, while you giggle or moan with pleasure - depending on what he’s doing.

One day, you and Ashley are out investigating a potential new flat, while Miguel brings home groceries. He can’t deny feeling slightly wounded that you’re still considering moving out with Ashley once you’re both ready. He had hoped you’d want to stay with him. Maybe you think it’s still too early in the relationship to consider living together…

As he emerges from the lift outside his apartment, his somewhat pleasant mood plummets like a lead balloon. Xina stands there, waiting for him; looking relieved to see him alone.

“I need to talk to you…” she begins, hands nervously fiddling together.

“No you don’t,” he replies as he fishes his keys from his jeans pocket.

Turning the key in the door, he pushes it open and tries to slip in without her following, however his large build doesn’t exactly help with that.

Like a magnetic attraction, Xina sticks behind closely, sneaking through the doorframe in his wake and enters his apartment.

“Tch…” Miguel tuts with annoyance as he glares at his ex-wife.

“I really have to talk to you. Please will you just listen to me?”

Taking the groceries into his kitchen, he starts to unpack the food.

“You’ve got five minutes, then you’re out.”

Miguel doesn’t even look at Xina as she enters the kitchen. His disinterest is evident on his face. He feels he’s going to regret giving her the time of day, but if he listens; maybe she’ll be more willing to leave once she’s said her piece.

“Is she pregnant?”

He pauses and looks up at his ex-wife. Finally, he rests his hands on the kitchen counter, mind racing trying to work out how she knew about the pregnancy scare.

“Firstly, what the hell gave you that idea? And, secondly, (Y/N) is not pregnant.”

Xina frowns, something’s not adding up…

“Then explain why you ordered a baby grow on our shared Amazon account?”

Damn it… That was something he’s been meaning to sort out for a while… He takes out his phone and starts to explore the Amazon account settings. Yep, she’s still there. Not for much longer… A simple tap on the screen unlinks her from his account before he locks the device and faces it down against the countertop.

“This really is none of your business…” he tries to remind her.

“Just tell me!” she raises her voice.

Miguel sighs as he contemplates his answer.

“She thought she was pregnant and was terrified that she was going to lose me as a result. I bought the baby grow as a means to show her I’m staying with her if she was indeed expecting. But, it was a false alarm. Happy?”

Xina breathes a sigh of relief before her eyes wander around the kitchen. It mostly looks the same, but there are some new things too. A rather feminine-looking diary lays on the countertop - certainly not Miguel’s style. What’s it doing there?

“She’s living with you now?”

That relief she felt leaves her within an instant.

“She has a name!”

Throughout their entire marriage, Miguel never once raised his voice at Xina. However, her current behaviour is testing his patience. The blatant disrespect that she displays regarding you upsets him greatly. Her audacity in thinking that she can just worm her way back in, and push you out is maddening. If only she showed this level of interest in him when he was fighting to keep their marriage alive. Sadly for Xina, Miguel sees it as far too little, far too late.

His voice reverberates in his modern kitchen, only enhancing the harsh bite behind his tone. The volume in which he speaks shocks her to her core. Revealing a side to her ex-husband she never knew.

“Fine… Is (Y/N) living with you now?” Xina repeats her question, begrudgingly adjusting it to Miguel’s liking.

He folds his arms, now totally abandoning the groceries. His lips arch in a cold-looking frown.

“You know, Xina, I still fail to see why this is any of your business…”

His ex steps forward, an imploring expression plastered on her face as she navigates around the island of countertops in the kitchen.

“It’s my business because I want you back. I was a fool to push to end the marriage.”

“And you’re an even bigger fool for thinking I will just agree to starting again with you.”

She expected that comment from him, but it doesn’t dampen her determination as she steps even closer.

“What will it take to convince you to have me back?”

Her hand delicately lands on Miguel’s bicep, his arms still folded, acting as a barrier between them.

“What will it take?” he asks before moving a hand, taking her wrist and prying it off of him then folding his arms again.

“There’s nothing you can offer me that will change my mind.”

Miguel sounds calm and collected although, his eyes glance up at the clock on the kitchen wall to check the time. He has to get her to leave soon…

Xina’s brows knit together, her goal slipping from her fingers fast.

“I think you should go now. You’ve got your answer.”

He turns back to the groceries but she grabs hold of his arm again.

“No. I’m not leaving.”

Miguel pulls himself away this time with an unfriendly snarl. A warning that Xina is outstaying her welcome. Although, she was never welcome in the first place…

“Don’t touch me.”

Panic rises within her; she’s losing the battle.

Maybe out of sheer ignorance or pure desperation, Xina’s fingers latch onto his shirt pulling him close. His eyes widen as she grabs him. He has to get her out of his apartment now, before you and Ashley return.

“Get the fuck off me!”

His arm swipes between the both of them; disconnecting her grip on him before he takes hold of her shoulders and spinning her around on the spot.

“And get the fuck out of my home.”

Push comes to shove, literally. It doesn’t take much to move Xina out of the kitchen and across the apartment to the front door, despite her putting up a fight.

“This - this used to be our home, remember?” she asks, desperately trying to get him to see her side of the argument. The door looming closer as he continues to shunt her towards it.

“And it’s just my home now.”

He feels some stronger resistance as she stiffens her legs and the souls of her shoes dig into the wooden flooring.

“Stop pushing!”

“Start moving then!” he growls, gritting his teeth.

He desperately wants her gone, but he has to be careful not to hurt her.

Xina turns her body in his grasp so she can face him as if she knows he can’t be too firm.

“Please Miguel!” she begs, grabbing onto his shirt again just as he watches the door handle turn; you’ve just come back with Ashley…

The voices you could hear as you approached the door quietened down the moment you entered.

Now you’re staring at the pair gripping onto one another as Ashley follows you inside.

Your eyes lock onto Xina’s and then Miguel’s as silence descends on the apartment. The room is so quiet, you’re sure your pounding heart can be heard as you try to process what you’re seeing.

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” you eventually ask as you feel Ashley place a protective arm around your shoulder.

Your question spurs Miguel into action and begins to push Xina towards you; his goal, to get her out of the penthouse as soon as humanly possible.

“Just taking out the trash,” your boyfriend growls, now sounding very irritated.

“But, what is said trash doing here in the first place?” Ashley speaks out on your behalf, which you’re thankful for.

Your friend’s tone is harsh and unforgiving. It’s clear she’s assuming the worst in him, but you’re not quite so quick as her to jump to conclusions just yet. With everything he’s said and done for you lately, it doesn’t make sense that he’d be tempted to take his ex-wife back again. Also, you know he���s not stupid enough to arrange for Xina to visit him when you and Ashley were due to return at any moment. This smells like a dastardly plan Xina has cooked up.

Both you and Ashley move out of the way to let Miguel pass as he continues to push Xina. She shouts and pushes back, fighting to be heard. It is only then Ashley sees what you see.

“Miguel! You can’t do this to me! I still love you - please!”

Her voice breaks as she shouts. She pushes back against your boyfriend. Looking at his face you can see she’s upsetting him more and more. You can’t deny that her words are hurting you too.

The pair are practically in the doorway as Xina clings on to the frame for leverage.

“What about all my desperate pleas to keep our marriage going, hmm?”

He shoves again.

“They fell on deaf ears!”

Another shove.

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot for not listening to you!”

Xina releases the doorframe and attempts to grapple her ex-husband again but with his strength, she’s almost out of the door.

“We- we can go back to our happier times! I promise you, I pro—“

She stops talking abruptly the moment the pair are out of sight. As you peer around the doorframe, you see him bent down over her, making you think that he’s kissing her for a brief moment. Instead, you hear a deep, threatening growl come from him as he responds to her.

“Ever since I started seeing (Y/N), my life and how I see myself has changed for the better.”

His voice is low as his hands pull her closer so he can continue to whisper angrily in her ear. Making damn sure every syllable is heard and understood with the utmost clarity.

“With (Y/N), I’m not a disappointment. That was all I ever was to you. There was nothing I could do to make up for my absence no matter how hard I tried.”

Xina whimpers at his words. She knows it’s game over, but he keeps going. His breath, hot against her neck, but for all the wrong reasons. Her heart pounds as she feels him seething, clearly releasing previously unspoken words of frustration laced with rising anger. Her little stunt could have cost him his relationship with you; and to him, that is unforgivable.

“You’re toxic and (Y/N) is a breath of the purest air. She’s gentle, kind, content with just spending time with me. Whereas with you, you expected me to shower you with gifts…” he pauses for a moment as though a lightbulb illuminates inside his head.

“That’s why you want to be back in my life isn’t it? You miss the money and the security that you so carelessly threw away. You greedy, selfish bitch.”

With that, he shoves her away from him. His face, wearing the biggest and most dangerous of scowls you have ever seen. Xina’s face is also a picture as he outed her. That desperate pleading look leaves her face, replaced by an utterly disgusted expression.

She slaps him hard across the face, the sharp sound reverberating around them in the hall outside his apartment.

Something snaps inside you. You’re not sure if it was the sound of Xina’s palm colliding with the side of Miguel’s face, or his grunt of pain, but it did something to you that made you see red. Before Ashley even realises, you dash out of the apartment.

The sound of your rushing footsteps alert Miguel that you’re coming. You’re not a violent person, but you despise the fact that Xina has laid a finger on your man. She’s hurt him and now you want to hurt her.

Before you get close enough, Miguel catches you and pulls you into a tight hold, locking you against him to stop you doing something you might regret.

Your head is pressed against his chest. The pounding of his heart matches yours. Emotions run high within him; touched that you’d rush to defend him like that. His eyes lock onto Xina’s as he clutches you against him.

“Get the fuck out of my home and my life.”

His voice is a deep, threatening growl which you can feel against your face as it vibrates within his hard, muscular chest.

Xina is totally silent. The sight before her is a clear sign that she has completely lost. There’s no coming back after this, the damage she has created is irreparable. This is all on her…

Without uttering another word, she turns, tears burning in her eyes as she makes her way to call the lift.

You hear Miguel take in a breath before he speaks again.

“I should thank you Xina…”

His ex-wife pauses before stepping into the lift and looks back at him with an expression full of regret.

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have met (Y/N) and fallen in love with her.”

Your eyes snap open. He loves you?

Xina rushes into the lift, suppressing a sob as she holds down the button that closes the door.

The moment that she is gone, Miguel feels you wriggle in his grasp as you try to pull away. You want to see him - all of him after his declaration of love for you. His hold on you loosens and lets you look up into his face.

“You love me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

Miguel beams at you. A smile so wide, you never thought was possible from a reserved guy like him, but there it is, for your eyes only.

“Si, mi amor. Te amo.” (Yes, my love. I love you)

Now that is something you do know for definite in Spanish, and it makes your heart flutter like a butterfly beating its wings in a bid to escape the confines of your chest.

A small smile creeps across Ashley’s face. She feels you and him deserve some alone time. Quietly she walks away and heads into the kitchen to sort out the abandoned shopping. For a moment back there, she was prepared to unleash hell upon him, but she could see in the way he held you that he’s mad about you and wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

You suddenly feel weightless as he picks you up, carrying you bridal-style into his apartment and closing the door behind him.

He takes you to his room and gently places you on his bed, joining you shortly after.

Your fingers brush tenderly against his cheek where Xina struck him earlier, soothing the skin that still stings slightly. His eyes close as he revels in your touch while he leans over you.

His lips caress yours in a gentle, loving kiss as you both slowly become overwhelmed in the simmering heat of the moment.

“I love you too, Miguel…” you whisper, knowing full well what saying his name does to him.

He’s lost it completely. Like flipping a switch inside him, he goes from sweet and tender to heavy and passionate.

He makes short work of removing yours and his clothing, throwing them into a messy heap on the floor.

Laying between your legs, he plunges into you deep; taking you with urgent need. Your moans accompany his grunts and groans, creating a symphony of pleasure.

He pumps into you as you lay back in pure bliss, legs wide open, accommodating his beautiful body. The feeling of your warm, wet walls clenching around him makes him melt, driving him wild.

“Yes…” you hiss at the peak of each thrust.

Tingles erupt within you, pulsing out from your core as he pushes deeper, harder and faster.

His magnificent hips grind against yours, ensuring that sweet spot gets the stimulation it needs to make you fall apart for him.

The orgasmic tension builds within you rapidly, each thrust, each grind, each grunt pushes you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your breathing quickens and becomes more shallow. Eyelids are heavy as you’re so, so close to reaching your peak; the ultimate pleasure. He knows it too. A smile grows on his lips as he watches you teetering on the edge.

“That’s it, mi amor. Cum for me, chiquita. Te amo…” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath fanning across your cheek and neck.

The bed creaks with every movement of his efforts, and it only gets louder as he ramps everything up again. Your mewls sound more desperate, the precipice getting even closer. You can’t think straight anymore, thoughts becoming hazy as your body homes in on that building pleasure that’s close to breaking-point.

“Cum for me, give me that orgasm, come on…” he grunts again through gritted teeth, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

He’s working hard for you today. Harder than any other time before. The need to blow your mind is strong. To make up for the upset that you were put through; although it wasn’t his fault.

He’s rocking your world and you know it. You sense that there’s meaning behind every thrust. Each pump into you is its own individual declaration of his love for you.

His breath falters, he’s close too.

“Por favor, mi amor!” Miguel begs you, his voice breaking.

His final efforts before climaxing pushes you over the edge with him. You fall together into the abyss of pleasure, lost for several moments. In that instance, you’re the only two people in the world - the only two that matter anyway. There was no Xina, no Nueva York, no world, even.

You close your eyes as your intense orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. He kisses you fiercely, lips crashing against yours before his tongue invades your mouth. The final pulses of his climax ebbs away as he’s left reeling.

You feel him lower himself onto you, his body totally flush against yours. The warm security of his arms wrap around you before rolling onto his back and having you on top.

You thought it was over, but boy you’re wrong. His hands slide down your sides before possessively gripping your hips. The thrusts begin again as he is rejuvenated with a second wind.

Soft moans and groans restart as the new angle helps him hit a different spot inside.

He makes you come undone for him over and over again. Each time he changes position, taking you exactly how you like it. He’s gentle and soft, then he’s rough and fast. Slow and tender, then heavy and passionate.

The moment when your eyes close for longer with each blink, he stops; knowing you have had all that you can take. But his love doesn’t stop there. He holds you close after cleaning you up and taking care of you.

You are left without a shadow of a doubt over his feelings for you. The pleasure he’s given you has totally swept away that sickening feeling you had when you saw Miguel and Xina clutching each other.

After the harsh things he said to his ex-wife today, you’re certain she’ll never come back; but if she ever dares try, you know damn well that Miguel will remain by your side.

The pair of you embrace one another in his bed. His fingers gently trace up and down your sides as he watches you melt at his tender touch. He smiles softly as his heart swells to what feels like twice its size as his love for you grows with each passing second. He’s crazy about you.

Casting his mind back, he reminisces about all of the sweet things you’ve done. The way you bumped into him, the feeling of your slight body pressing against his front as you stood up in the galley of the plane. How you gave him a pack of biscuits instead of giving it to Peter, despite him being an asshole to you.

That cute little text you sent him after he gave you his number. How sweet you were when he fell into the pool in Acapulco and how forgiving you were when he apologised for sending that damn video and those texts. He loved how thoughtful you were when you booked a paddle-boarding session with you the day after. Your great humour is admirable, and he loves how silly you can be.

The way you’re so responsive to his efforts when making love with you. Your little sounds drive him wild.

You’re his saviour; his sweet angel, and he loves every fibre of your being…

Thank you so much for reading, liking, commenting, re-blogging this fic. 157 pages and over 53,000 words was put into this and I had an absolute blast.

This is the last "official" chapter of Pilot Miguel, so if you have any suggestions about where Miguel and reader travels to, or getting up to... other things, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

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[redwoodapothecary]

Hi hi hi I was wondering if you could write headcanons about cg!Luke or cg!Clarisse with a little that has an age range of 5-9? Or little!Clarisse headcanons? (You can pick the one you do im jusy hyperfixated on Clarisse rn 😭)

LUKE AND CLARISSE WITH A LITTLE WHO’S 5-9

A/N: I’m gonna do both because I love both of them so much. And I really hope this is right, I’m personally a younger regressor so I hope I didn’t get anything wrong! ^^’

Also this will include book spoilers on Luke’s part-

Clarisse La Rue

Clarisse is usually very unemotional. She is angry, aggressive, and violent.

Except towards you.

When it comes to you, she’s extremely protective, loving, and supportive. She would shield you from any sort of harm or danger and she’d gladly drive her spear through anyone who dared even look at you wrong.

She’s a very protective caregiver. She loves taking you outside and playing with you, but you must hold her hand at all times, and you aren’t allowed to touch anything dangerous.

She likes being called “Mom” or “Mama”, they make her feel really protective of you and she thinks they sound really cute coming from you.

Whenever you guys go outside, she has to hold your hand unless you’re playing outside or running around or something with her permission and she’s keeping an eye on you. She really likes hanging out in the strawberry fields with you. It’s peaceful and she tends to steal strawberries for you both.

She doesn’t have much money, and she rarely ever leaves Camp Half-blood, but she tries to buy you toys if you want any! But you mostly just play outside and play games with her to keep yourself entertained.

Clarisse is actually surprisingly really good at comforting people, so if you regress because of trauma and today is a bad day, or if you just need some comfort, she’s got you. If you want to ramble, she’ll hold you in her arms and let you ramble. If you want a distraction, she’ll play games with you until you’re bored. Whatever you want, she’ll do it. Because she loves you.

Because you’re a bit older, she isn’t too strict with you, however like I said, she has outside rules for your safety. She also has a strict bedtime for you and makes sure you eat enough during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If you don’t eat enough, you’re not allowed to play until you finish your food. If you don’t go to bed on time, you won’t get to have any sweets for a couple days.

She actually doesn’t mind if her friends know or if people see. Yeah, she has a reputation to uphold and a persona to keep up, but like I said, she’s extremely protective and aggressive to literally everyone but you and a couple other people.

God forbid anybody try to say anything mean to you period, especially about your age regression. That will not end well for them. She doesn’t even try to use words, she just punches them. Girlboss.

Luke Castellan

So, this takes place after he betrays and joins the titans. You also join the titan army. I do not see him becoming a caregiver before he betrays, mainly because he knows he’s going to leave soon, and he doesn’t really see the point in developing such a strong, emotional bond with someone only to just. Leave. The only reason he was close to people like Annabeth was because he knew her long before he knew he was gonna betray.

Everything is very dangerous on the Princess Andromeda. There’s monsters literally everywhere you look, and hordes of weapons scattered about too. It is kind of a war ship in a way, after all.

You are literally the only person he truly cares about anymore. You’re the only person he hasn’t manipulated or lied to. He only cares about you, and he’s extremely protective over you.

He feels bad, but you have to stay in his room with him whenever you regress. It’s too dangerous otherwise. He doesn’t know what other people might try to do to you. He can’t risk it. You’re his baby and he doesn’t want you getting hurt.

He doesn’t mind what you call him, but parental ones like “Dad”, make him feel really special. Especially if your godly parent is your father, because it makes him feel like you’re slapping the gods in the face and he finds that funny!

He buys you toys whenever he goes out off the ship for whatever reason. He spoils you literally so much. You have all of the Calico Critters plus all the play sets and houses.

He is also actually really good at comforting and supporting you. He’ll hold you, reassure you, and give you little kisses all over your face whenever you need love and support. He gets really bad nightmares, so if you have a nightmare and regress, he’d be glad to hold you and comfort you. He knows what it’s like.

Like I said, he is strict with you. You cannot leave the room when little. You must go to bed by 9pm. You shower every other day. You eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner at set times everyday. You don’t get desert if you’ve misbehaved and he isn’t afraid to put you in time out of take away a couple toys if he feels like he needs to or the situation calls for it.

This is a very private thing for him, mostly because he’s surrounded by monsters and other. More violent people. All the time. And also he’s fighting a war and you’re one of his weak spots, so he’s not exactly gonna go flaunting it around. He isn’t ashamed of it or anything, he actually wishes you guys could be more open about it. It’s just too dangerous!

If anybody were to find out and they said anything mean about it, he would just get them killed. They’d be fed to the monsters on the ship or they’d just be thrown overboard. Either one he feels like. He won’t tolerate anybody talking bad about his little one.