#i think the one on the right is just from playing outside

[stormberry-12]

sunshine and sarcasm // P1: oh god, it talks? ~ lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x fem!introvert!piastri!reader

warnings: slight language, creepy guy.

notes: Let me know if I should make another part, wasn't really sure if I wanted it to end here. Also, ignore that the timeline doesn't line up... xxx

You walked through the bustling paddock in search of the bright orange garage-

Sorry, papaya.

Your older brother, Oscar, had his face and race number plastered above the overhead door. It was the Australian Grand Prix and your entire family had been invited to experience it in person. You actually didn't even live in Australia anymore. You had been working out of the country for many years, perfecting your craft and experiencing great opportunities outside your hometown. So this early pop-up to free practice was surely a surprise for Oscar.

"Y/n/n?"

"Osco!!" he crushed you in a hug.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work, mum wasn't even sure you'd make it for the race Sunday-"

"I wanted to surprise you," you grinned back at him, "If I can only make it for one race a year I want to experience the whole shebang! Even the practice sessions,"

"Oh mate, I'm so excited!" Oscar exclaimed, with the most enthusiasm his personality offered. To some, his tone may have sounded sarcastic but you knew, by the glint in his eyes, that he was genuinely happy you were here. "Shit- I have media, but then I could totally show you around, the second round of free practice doesn't start for another few hours,"

"Sounds good!" you smiled, Oscar's gaze trailed over to his teammate standing on the other side of the garage. You knew who Lando Norris was, from interviews with Osc, but you had never actually met him.

"I can introduce you to Lando too, he's great,"

"I'm good," you mumbled and your brother chuckled. There were definitely similarities, personality-wise, between you and your brother. You didn't need to meet Lando and you didn't want to meet him. From certain clips online you were sure his loud persona would be way too much for you-

"OSCAH!" The Brit yelled making both of your heads turn back to him. Proving your previous thought. "GET OVAH HERE YOU'RE SLOW!"

"Oh god, it talks?" you hissed.

"He is a person, and yes he talks." Oscar scolded, "He's very nice, don't be rude."

He gently elbowed you in the side, before walking towards the other racing driver and a set of cameras. You went and sat upstairs at some tables, putting your headphones in and waiting for your brother.

Once you were out of earshot, Lando turned to his teammate, "Who's the lady?"

"Oh, my sister. Well one of them, I have three." Oscar replied.

"Huh..." Lando hummed, hesitating, "Think you could introduce me?"

"Mateee," Oscar grumbled, already knowing where this was going. It wasn't the first time he had to tell one of his friends that you weren't interested.

"Pleaseee Osc?" Lando pleaded, Oscar side-eyed him hard.

"You know, I offered to introduce her first and she said 'I'm good.'"

"Ouch,"

"I'm sure it's nothing personal, she's just a bit introverted and grumpy-"

"Runs in the family I see..."

"-and then you proceeded to yell very Britishly across the entire room," Oscar finished, ignoring his teammate's jab.

"What do you mean 'Britishly'?" Lando chuckled.

"What do you mean 'runs in the family'?"

"Touche,"

"Oh my god," a loud giggle interrupted your peace, you lifted your head to see the two Mclaren boys on the floor playing Twister. You hadn't meant to catch them in the filming process but you couldn't deny it was quite entertaining.

You removed an earbud to hear Lando mumble, "What a sight that is..."

You chuckled to yourself, Osc was squatted with his butt right in Lando's face, both giggling uncontrollably.

"I'm in... such a bad place right now." Oscar sighed.

"I'm like in the splits," they giggled once more.

"Left foot yellow," one of the Mclaren media team instructed, after spinning the wheel for them. You stood up and walked over to the crew, exchanging smiles and waves with some of them.

"Oscahhh,"

"We can't be on the same sticker can we?" Oscar shook with laughter.

They mumbled something incoherent, Lando's voice cracked slightly, "Ahhhh, my voice is gone. Oscah call it quits. YOUR LEFT FOOT IS NOT GOING BETWEEN MY LEGS!"

Everyone laughed, both drivers looked up noticing your presence.

"Y/n/n help me!" Oscar pleaded.

"Y/n/n tell your brother he's lost!" Lando countered, smirking over at his teammate. You houghed, wondering who this guy thought he was, using Oscar's nickname for you. To be fair though you hadn't properly introduced yourself.

"Sorry Osco," you smiled at him, "It's not looking too good for you..."

Oscar tried to maneuver his body once more, before standing up and accepting defeat, "That's it, I'm done-"

"Yeh, he's called it. I win!" Lando cheered.

They cut the cameras and you waved at your brother, "Alright, I'm going to find lunch Osc, I'll find you later,"

The bustling paddock was a lot to take in, you had asked around the garage to see if anyone knew of a nice outdoor spot to eat. But after noticing that the few picnic benches close by were all occupied, you sighed in defeat. Holding your food bag close to your chest, you retreated to the McLaren garage.

However, a hard hit to your back made you stumble and drop your food, content spilling all over the ground.

"Whoops, sorry gorgeous," A man snarled, chuckling. His eyes were narrowed at you as a sickly grin spread across his face. "Hey, what's a pretty lady like you doin' all alone around here,"

"Just getting lunch," you replied curtly, avoiding eye contact. "And I'm not alone-"

"Well, that hasn't gone too great so far has it," He put an arm around your shoulders and you froze. "My apologies, come with me let me buy you something to eat,"

"No. Thank you. I'm headed to—uhm—find my boyfriend anyway, " you lied, scrambling out of his grasp and towards the garage.

"Oh come on gorgeous," his large strides met yours as you walked away.

"Please leave me alone, I'm not interested."

He grabbed your wrist pulling you to face him, hot breath hitting your face. You shook slightly, preparing to kick him with all your might, and start screaming-

"Y/N/N!" a voice yelled.

British.

The accent gave away who it was, but honestly, at this moment you didn't care, as Lando Norris' arms wrapped firmly around you from behind. You pulled your arm out of the other man's grip and he took a step back.

"Do we got a problem here mate?" Lando spoke, his sharp tone catching you by surprise. You clung to the top of one of his arms that draped around your shoulders and the man eyed the both of you in annoyance.

"No. Just trying to help the lady out," he houghed, you felt Lando's chest heave against your back.

"Well, I believe as she probably told you before, she's quite all right on her own," Lando responded cooly. By this point crowds of people, which often formed when Lando Norris was around, watched and whispered at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Okay-" The man turned to leave.

"Hey, asshole." Lando spoke again, the anger you felt radiating off his body now leaving his mouth. Wishing you could see his face at that moment, you squeezed his bicep in a silent plea to let it go. Not wanting to cause more of a scene than you already had. "Don't just walk away, apologise to her."

You hesitantly made eye contact with the man across from you. And after spoiling your lunch, pestering you, and invading your space he mumbled one simple half-hearted word.

"Sorry," and walked away.

Lando gently released you and you slowly angled your body to face him. Not making eye contact, you scanned the people around that had clearly watched but were now avoiding your gaze.

"Oh god, I've caused a scene," you whispered.

Lando chuckled, making your face heat, "You're so much like your brother," You met his blue gaze, "It's okay. Are you okay?"

"Oh um- yes thank you for..."

"No worries, that guy was pissing me off," he mumbled, something flashing in his eyes, suddenly shy he added, "Sorry if I uh- crossed the line there-"

"It's alright..." you said softly, "I should get going, thanks again-"

"Wait! Let me walk you?" he offered with a small smile, "We need to get you more lunch right?"

You nodded and started towards the McLaren garage for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Lando followed by your side in silence, glancing over at you multiple times, seeming to ponder a conversation starter.

Hating small talk you quickly offered something else, "Want to see some embarrassing photos of Oscar?"

His face split into a grin, shaking his head excitedly. You pulled out your phone and started scrolling through some of the most horrendous photos that you had taken of your brother over the years. Including baby photos of course, and 'Vines' that you had made in your teenage years that made Lando squeal with laughter.

Your chest fluttered slightly at his warm laugh, so engrossed in your memories that you hadn't even noticed how casually he held your elbow and pulled you to the side. Only a few steps away from the garage and not wanting to end the moment.

"Wait, go back!" he giggled. You had landed on a horribly angled photo of your brother at the ripe age of 13, glaring at you angrily through the camera.

"His hair is so bad!" You wheezed.

"Can I just-" he held out his hand and you offered your phone. He took it and quickly typed in a phone number to send himself quality Oscar photos. "Thank you so much. My life is complete," he joked, handing the phone back to you.

"No problem," you laughed, smiling up at him.

His cheeks turned pink, and he spoke softly, "So are you-"

"LANDO!" he was suddenly called by one of the McLaren mechanics.

"Oh shit," he cursed checking his watch, slowly stepping away from you, "Sorry, I gotta go- shit -um I'll see ya around okay?!"

He gave you a wave, turning before you could answer, and jogging over to his team. You waved back hesitantly, but just like that he was gone. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and began walking in the other direction, wondering if he had turned back over his shoulder.

Why did you want to look back?

You continued your adventures around the paddock, getting food and the tour that Oscar had promised. You had missed him truly, he was one of your best friends as a kid and still was. It still felt strange adjusting to your lives as adults.

Eventually, it was time for him to head back and get in the car for another practice session. A group of fans surrounded Oscar for autographs, and he shot you a sympathetic look which you waved off with a smile. Standing off to the side, you pulled out your phone in an attempt not to look awkward, surprised by the many texts you had missed.

Oscar looked over your shoulder, catching you by surprise, "Who are you texting?"

You jumped, "No one-"

He gave you a confused face and then smirked at your screen, "Heh, is mum mad?"

Your face snapped back down to your phone, one of the other people to text you was your mother. You noticed her last message was in all caps and quickly opened it, color draining from your face.

Turned out Lando didn't need to tattle on you anyway.

And good god indeed.

[witherby]

The Littlest Wayne

Or, the one where Bruce brings home a baby, and your adorable little face wins the heart of your new, big brothers.

Platonic!Reader and Batfam

"Bruce."

"Don't freak out."

"Bruce."

"You're freaking out. I can see it in your eyes, but don't do it."

"This is a problem. This is an actual addiction and you need help."

"You're overreacting. I need everyone to take a deep breath, in and out, and not freak out."

Dick crossed his arms and glared at his father, narrowed eyes shifting up and down in an extremely pointed manner. Tim and Jason were wearing similar expressions, looking either at Bruce himself or the bundle in his arms.

Damian walked across the room and peered down at the bundle, expressionless.

"Father, come on."

Bruce carefully brushed the edge of the blanket away from your face. You scrunched your tiny nose, disturbed, then settled back down without issue. The billionaire had found you abandoned outside the garage doors of the Gotham Fire Station, left there by some overwhelmed mother no doubt. Unfortunately, that particular station was closed on the weekends, because of course this damned city couldn't staff a fire station 24/7, and if he hadn't found you on patrol, you would have frozen to death on the ground.

"They were in danger!" Bruce insisted firmly, but kept his voice soft so as not to frighten you. "Look — they don't have black hair or blue eyes. You can tell I didn't do it on purpose."

"Why not take the baby to the GCPD, then? Or a hospital?" Jason piped up, unamused. "B, cut the bullshit. You can't keep 'em."

"I brought them here first to ensure they didn't need any immediate medical attention."

"Which is something a hospital could do," Tim said.

"An overcrowded and understaffed hospital, that doesn't have the time to spare to give them direct and undivided attention?" Bruce argued. "The med ward in the Cave is just as efficient as an emergency room, if not more so."

"And the fact that you aren't down there with the baby — the baby you are not keeping," Dick chimed in, holding out his arms for you, "means that they're perfectly fine and can be transported safely somewhere else."

"They're sleeping right now," Bruce said, completely deadpan, and made no move to relinquish his hold over you. "We can't put them in a noisy car and upset them. We can drop the baby off in the morning."

"He's getting dangerously attached," Dick hissed to his brothers. "We need the big guns."

"I'll alert Pennyworth," Damian declared, already ducking out of the room. Bruce scowled, aware the battle was quickly turning against his favor. But he could play dirty, too.

He dropped his shoulders and the furrow of his brow turned slightly down, weary and forlorn. He stopped looking at his boys and instead studied all your tiny features, tracing a finger down the bridge of your nose, gently across your lashes, and over your plump little cheeks. You were absolutely adorable. He was already thinking of names for you in his mind.

"You know, I never got to raise any of you from infancy," he stated, not in any pointed manner, just as objective fact. Just quietly enough that they could think Bruce hadn't meant to say it out loud. "Not that I would've wanted to steal that experience from your birth parents. I would never. But...I don't even know what Damian looked like when he was this small."

Dick's eye twitched. The glare was still in place, but his frown was less severe. One down.

"I'm sorry, boys," he sighed, acting as though he were giving in. "The Mission has taken up so much of my time, it's hard not to wonder what I would have been like as a normal father. Just the formative things, like... like changing diapers, and doing Tummy Time, and helping you guys learn to walk."

Tim's eyes grew distant, likely thinking of his own parents and the loneliness he felt growing up in Drake Manor all by himself. He was no doubt recalling how much he wished his mom or dad had been around, to play or to talk to or just to physically be there with him, instead of off traveling the world and leaving him behind to fend for himself.

Two down.

But Jason, despite all that had happened over the years, despite the strain on his relationship with Bruce, had always been the most emotional of his children. He would not be hard to win over.

"This would be a mistake," Bruce stated, looking his second oldest right in the eyes. "They'd be happier somewhere else, somewhere normal. Maybe...maybe one of you could hold them and I can go start the car? I can feel myself starting to get attached, and that's not fair to you, boys. I didn't mean to stress you all out. I wasn't thinking."

Jason huffed, lowering his feet from where they'd been propped up on the coffee table, and stood from the couch to come take you from Bruce. His arms carefully held you to his broad chest, your weight settling against him pleasantly.

He made the mistake of watching you scrunch your face and whine softly, itty bitty hands poking out from your blanket and gripping onto his shirt sleeve with all the strength your small body could muster.

Jason's expression dropped immediately, and he practically melted as he tucked you closer.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

Damian and Alfred walked into the living room to find Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Tim all cooing and fawning over you, and the war was lost.

Welcome home, Littlest Wayne.

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Davrin (and also Grey Wardens and griffons) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: the list isn't 100% exhaustive. I may have missed something or didn't write something down because I had heard about it before or considered it common knowledge. If you think there's something that can be added to the post, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from)

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Harding, Lucanis, the rest to be added later this week

About Davrin

Family and past:

When he was a kid, Davrin broke his arm when his aravel sailed off a ridge 

Davrin stlll considers himself Dalish and thinks that will never change

Davrin hasn’t seen his clan since he left the forest. He misses the clan (‘it comes and goes’), Dalish food – especially halla milk and butter — and the sense of a common purpose. The last is why he joined the Wardens

Eldrin lives on his own, not together with Davrin’s clan

Just like Bellara, when Davrin was little, he wondered what it was like to his own house, shop at the market and make friends with outsiders

Davrin isn’t bothered by the idea of fighting the Elven gods because he never really believed in them, but he is worried about how the events of the Veilguard will impact the reputation of the elves

General:

Davrin drinks beer and wine

Davrin hums to himself :)

Davrin can speak some Dwarven 

Davrin doesn’t get the Fade - it’s just too many things at once (the place where spirits live, origin of creation etc.). He has difficulties believing it because it’s something he can’t touch or see 

Davrin would’ve left D’meta’s Crossing’s mayor to die

Davrin dumps griffon waste right into the Fade. No reservations about it whatsoever

Life with the Wardens:

Davrin says he never got used to hearing/sensing darkspawn after joining the Wardens

Davrin knows Ramish (protagonist of the Horrors of Hormkar)

The first group of Wardens Davrin fought with had a special system for fighting ogres. One of them would be “Cheese” (bait), drawing the ogre's attention while the others shot it with arrows (so Davrin can either use a bow or was always the Cheese) 

Monster hunting: 

Davrin can't take most books about monsters seriously, as they are not up to his standards

Fighting monsters is all about the thrill of the chase and tracking a target down rather than the victory

Davrin prefers to fight flesh-and-blood monsters rather than demons

Davrin takes full payment upfront when he hunts monsters for coin

Davrin has many monster trophies (Harding finds them disturbing)

Davrin does taxidermy 

Relationships with other companions: 

(In conversations with Bellara and Neve) Davrin genuinely believes Lucanis/Spite can kill them all 

(In conversation with Harding) Davrin proudly says Lucanis couldn’t take him 

Davrin made a little statue with a skull for a face as a gift for Emmrich’s colleague at his request

(If Emmrich becomes a lich) Davrin offers Emmrich to become a monster-hunting team (“Warden and lich. From darkspawn to demons, we've got you covered.”), thinking they could score a lot of coin

Davrin also offers Neve to set up shop together. “Minrathous Monsters and Murders. If it's claws and fangs stirring up trouble, we've got it covered.” Neve suggests Emmrich (and Manfred, if he's alive) joins them

Davrin and Neve met before the events of the Veilagurd on what Neve calls “The Vol Dorma Job”

About Assan and griffons:

Griffons like shiny things. Assan even once stole one of Bellara’s crystals (but later brought it back) 

(If Sent to Arlathan Forest) Griffons seem to 'remember' patrolling the forest, like it's a genetic thing

(If sent to the Wardens) Griffons listen to Evka

There’s no definite age for when a griffon is ready to carry a rider. It’s more about size and discipline 

(If Rook is in romance with Davrin) Assan gets a little moody/jealous after Davrin and Rook get together

Fade spooks Assan, so he doesn’t fly too far away from the Lighthouse 

Assan eats pastries from the kitchen

Assan doesn't like eating vegetables, but Davrin got him to eat carrots after Taash pointed out he needed more fibre in his diet

Assan misses Manfred when he dies

Assan can dive underwater and eat fish

Assan is curious about Neve’s wisps

About Wardens/misc:

Wardens slip Worry Weed into each other’s ale for kicks (it causes paranoia)

There is no definite timeline of how long a blighted person can survive without the Joining. It all depends on the person

Evka is good at telling spooky stories

Weisshaupt has a world-class library with books over a thousand years old

Wooden carvings can become haunted if blood gets on them

Wardens usually eat cold gruel for meals. Nobody knows what's inside it

[spiderb00]

PRETTY PUPPY

Daniela Avanzini x reader 

“Your girlfriend is bossy and brat, but you love her, and she loves her puppy” 

Genre – smut (men n minors dni) Warnings – Hair pulling, degradation (just a little) 

Now playing – God is a woman, by Ariana Grande 

You were tired, after a hard day's work, all you wanted was to take a shower, get the smell of smoke out of your body and hibernate for the next two days. Unfortunately, you had to keep your life outside of work alive, and even though you didn't want to, you knew the effort was worth it. But today, you didn't want to do anything, you didn't want to go anywhere with anyone, all you wanted was to lie in your bed and hug your girlfriend.   

"Yn, get up!" Daniela shook your shoulder, waking you from your sleep haze.   

Waking up a little stunned, you looked at the Latina, not understanding why your beautiful girlfriend wanted to take you out of your rest. Dani looked beautiful, wearing a cute white blouse and a low-waisted skirt that highlighted her body. 

"What? Why? Where are you going?" You asked, running your hands over your face, trying to wake up.   

"Where are WE going! Come on baby, it's one of my friends' birthday, I told you not to forget, I told you you'd drive because I'm in the mood to drink today."  

Listening to Daniela's explanation, you felt a little annoyed, all you wanted was to rest, and here she was, asking you to drive to a party just because she wanted to get drunk.  

"Baby, I'm tired. I worked all day, can't you ask Manon to come with you?" You tried to convince the Latina to give you a day off, your muscles too tired to make any move.   

"Manon can't go, she's celebrating her one-year anniversary with her girlfriend, and you promised you'd take me!" Daniela's voice began to rise in the middle of the sentence, a clear sign that she was about to start throwing a tantrum because she wasn't getting what she wanted. "Why are you still lying down, get up, puppy! You're going to make me late!"   

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Daniela, the Latina was an only child, and you could see that she was spoiled miles away. But it was a thousand times worse than you thought. She didn't hesitate to throw a tantrum when you didn't get what she wanted, she was mad at you for not giving her what she wanted, and she even called you that stupid nickname, "puppy", you were fed up.   

"Daniela, I'm sorry. I'm too tired for this. I've worked hard all week, and on the only day I have for a rest you want me to be your chauffeur. It's not going to happen!" You said, getting out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. Losing the shocked look on your girlfriend's face.   

"I hope you're going to the bathroom to get ready, because I swear, Yn. You said you'd take me, and now you're going to take me." Daniela followed you to the bathroom, watching you lean against the sink and sigh.   

"You know, not everyone is a spoiled brat like you! Some of us have to work hard!" You regretted the words that came out of your mouth as soon as you finished speaking.   

"Are you saying I don't work hard?" You swore you were going to die at that moment. 

Daniela's gaze was fixed on you, the Latina's head tilted to the left as she analyzed your every move. You knew that if you threw yourself out of the second-floor window of your house, it would hurt less than anything Daniela was planning to do to you right now.   

"No, I didn't say that-"  

"But you meant." The Latina approached you, making you try to go further back, almost as if she was trying to merge you with the bathroom sink.   

"No, I don't, I just-"   

"You just what? Do you think I'm a slut, Yn?"     

"No!" You shook your head quickly.   

"Do you think I don't work as hard as you do?" The Latina grabbed the back of your head, pulling your hair down, making you lean in the pain of the squeeze.   

"No! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it, I promise!"   

Still with her hand in your hair, the Latina leaned a little, getting in line with your vision.   

"My puppy can't keep up what she said?" Daniela asked, mocking you.   

"Don't call me that!" You said, stopping immediately when the Latina pulled your hair harder., making you get on your knees.    

"Oh, my puppy is so pathetic. You love me, don't you, Yn?" You nodded quickly, agreeing with everything the Latina said. "So you're going to do what I want, when I want. Are you listening to me?" 

You didn't even have time to reason before your girlfriend leaned in, kissing you aggressively. Her lips were soft, but in this kiss you couldn't feel their softness much. Both of your teeth chattered from the aggressiveness of the kiss, and Daniela's hand on your head made her have great control over you.   

"You were talking a lot earlier, weren't you?!" Daniela said as she pulled away from the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting the two of you for a few seconds, before it split in half. "Let's use your mouth for something more useful."   

In one swift motion, the Latina slid the panties she was wearing off her body, leaving you static. You've been in this position other times, she scolding you for not following her orders, you and Daniela had a strange way of fighting. You could work out serious things as adults, always prioritizing each other's opinions and trying to come to an agreement. But when the fight that started was over something not very big, Daniela or you almost always turned it into furious sex, and it was fucking good.   

"Oh, what? Are you shy now? Did the cat eat your tongue, puppy?" Daniela mocked you, making you look at her with furrowed brows. "No, don't look at me like that. Come on, do your job before things get worse for you” 

With that, Daniela grabbed your hair again, making you hold both of the Latina's thighs. One of Daniela's legs was on your shoulder, and now you had a little more access to the blonde's intimacy. As much as she was holding your hair, Daniela waited for you to make the first move, when you finally licked a band in her pussy, the Latina moaned loudly, her moan echoing through the bathroom walls.   

Tightening the grip she had in your hair a little more, you moaned in pain, taking a wave of vibrations to your girlfriend's clit, who moaned louder. Daniela's taste was so good, that you may have forgotten why you were in this position for a second. You couldn't deny that you loved hating Daniela's tantrums, the Latina had won your heart, you couldn't escape, you knew that that spoiled and bossy brat would be your wife one day.  

Losing patience with Daniela's insistent pulls, and with the pain in your knees, you finally decided to impose yourself. Letting go of the leg that was on your shoulders, you left the Latina confused for a few seconds, only to stop in one quick motion, grab her by the thighs and lift her on top of the sink.   

"Why do you think you can treat me the way you want, huh?" You asked, grabbing the blonde's face tightly, a pout forming on Daniela's lips, from the force with which you were squeezing her cheeks.  

"Why can I! YOU'RE MINE!" She whimpered, slapping your hands and freeing herself from your grip.    

Laughing sarcastically, you bent down again, spreading Daniela's legs and adjusting yourself in the middle of them again. The Latina was so excited by the sight that her thighs trembled, every touch of you seemed to have triple the power over her now.   

"You'll regret it later, mami."   

Dipping your tongue back into the middle of the Latina's feathers, Daniela didn't even care what you had said. The words seemed hollow when they entered her ears, and she might forget, but at some point you would remember her. All the Latina could think about was how your tongue was doing a fantastic job on her.   

"Hurry up puppy, you're still going to drive for me tonight."   

With a growl, you remembered once again why you were here, it was inevitable, you forgot everything with Daniela's sweet taste in your mouth. Penetrating two fingers inside your girlfriend, you continued your work with your tongue, gradually accelerating the back and forth movements with your hand.   

"Oh, that's right puppy, I'm so close."  

Hitting the special point in Daniela, you watched the Latina roll her eyes, you concentrated your thrusts in the same place, doing tricks with your tongue quickly. You knew your girlfriend's body like the back of your hand, and it was easy to make her reach the state of pleasure.   

"I'm cumming, baby! Please don't stop!"   

The eyes rolling, the hands squeezing your hair again, the legs shaking, all these were your girlfriend's reactions to your hard work, because as you said from the beginning of it all, you work hard!  

When the Latina finally calmed down, descending from the haze of orgasm, she pulled you up, a drunken smile on her face as she pulled you into a gentle kiss, a very big contrast to the ones you exchanged minutes ago.   

"You know I love you, right?" Daniela asked, caressing the point where she mistreated you so much.   

"Of course I know. And I love you too, even with your tantrums." Laughing, Daniela kissed you quickly once again.   

"I'm sorry to be so rude to you."   

"Oh, don't worry, this will definitely come back!" You said, giving the curly girl another kiss on the lips and walking away. "Come on, you don't want to be late, do you?!"   

Walking away, all you left behind was a Daniela with a scared expression, afraid of what would come next, maybe she should start taking it easy with her puppy. 

Did you guys think I was joking? ;)

I have nothing to say, I'm a little embarrassed… :/

Xoxo, spider.

[softtdaisy]

it takes what it takes / Charles Leclerc

summary. When you heard Charles was bringing his new girl to you and your friends' annual winter holiday, you decided to bring someone too. That isn’t your boyfriend. But it takes what it takes to make your ex jealous, right? Well, that was something Charles had in mind too.

words count. 1,854

a/n. it feels so good to write for Charles again?? This was supposed to be a mix of Is It Over Now? and Last Christmas but I wanted to do something sweet and fun and I really love it??? So I hope you will too 🤍

F1 masterlist | general masterlist

“It’s a bad idea.”

You had been thinking that for the whole ride, that’s for sure. But you didn’t realize you were thinking this loud that even your friend could read your mind and say the same thing. You turned to look at Andrew, your ‘date’ for the holiday. A date that was clearly more stressed than you were about the situation.

“It will be fine.” you replied, focused on the road. “You don’t have to do much except being nice and pretend to love me.” you heard him laugh softly to which you replied with a smack on his thigh. “Two hard things to do, I know.”

“You’re not hard to love honey, you’re just not my type.” 

You rolled your eyes. One thing was true, the other was harder to believe. You knew that asking Andrew to come would be easy, you were offering him a free snow holiday with one of his best friends: you. And you knew things couldn’t be awkward between you since there were more chances for him to fall for your ex than for you.

On the other hand, the first part is harder to believe. Especially when your ex broke up with you to “focus on his career” and was now dating someone else. As if his career was to be a serial dater and not a Formula One driver.

When your friends told you Charles would bring his new girl, you couldn’t accept being there by yourself. It would be hard enough to pretend to not be jealous, you couldn’t do that alone. 

So there you were, finally parking in front of the luxurious cabin you all rented with your fake boyfriend.

Andrew was the first to leave the car so he could take your baggage off the boot. When you finally stood next to him, he took your hand in his and kissed it. “Let’s get in here, my sweet jellybean.”

You laughed so loud you probably woke up the neighbourhood. “Ugh, don’t call me that idiot.”

Your exchange was heard by your friend who rushed outside to greet you. It was nice to see them all again. You had some doubt after your breakup with Charles that maybe they would all choose him and forget about you. But there you were with them, feeling loved and appreciated like nothing ever happened. 

Andrew was introduced and played his boyfriend role so perfectly that even you believed it for a minute. 

But just for one single minute. Until Charles came outside too.

It wasn’t like you could have escaped him this year. You saw interviews of him, you were in Monaco when he won. It was hard to see your ex boyfriend everywhere yet you couldn’t contain the pride of seeing succeed.

You didn’t rush to hug him like he didn’t move from the door. You just both acknowledged each other’s presence. You noticed the small smile on his face when he looked at you and for a few seconds, it was enough.

Enough to think you could handle the whole holiday with him.

Enough to forget all the bad things you thought and said about him these past months.

Enough to consider being friends or, maybe more if things came to an end with his girlfriend.

Said girlfriend that ruined everything you had in mind the second she stepped outside.

Not that she did anything bad. She stayed quiet, almost hiding behind him. You were even sure she nodded towards you to say hello. You couldn’t blame her for being arrogant, possessive or mean to you. She didn't do anything wrong.

Charles did.

By simply picking someone that looked exactly like you.

You gave a short look at Andrew that looked as surprised and confused as you were. At least you had the decency to not choose a fake boyfriend that looked like your ex boyfriend.

“We are all finally together!” one of your friends said, putting his arms around you and Andrew’s shoulder.

“For better and for worse.” Andrew whispered to you, to which you replied again with a smack on his back.

__

If Andrew played his role to perfection, by always staying by your side and having a hand on you because he knew how much you crave physical affection, you were far from being the best actress in this play.

You spend the first evening noticing every single thing that reminded you of yourself on Charles’ girlfriend. From her hair colour, the way she styled it to her sweater that was the same as one of yours -like did he seriously look at your closet to offer the same? You were convinced Charles did all of that on purpose. Or he really had a type and it was you.

Still, you tried to be nice to her. Because she was a nice girl. But anytime you started a conversation, you just kept noticing more and more things in common with her. And it was driving you mad that Charles not only broke up with you for stupid reasons but was now dating some kind of clone of yourself. 

You tried to analyze their relationship without being creepy but it was harder than you thought.

And being curious doesn’t always bring good things. 

Not when you were so focused on the way Charles and her were acting during the afternoon outside that you didn’t notice the rock under the snow and fell on your knees. Of course, Andrew was living his best life as a passionate skier and wasn’t close enough to help you.

Compared to Charles that saw your fall.

“Are you ok?” he said once he was close enough to help you back on your feet.

You gave him a bad look, do you seriously think I need your help? You thought so loud that you hoped he would hear.

But that would have been terribly ironic considering you almost fell in his arms once you were standing again. “I might have hurt my knee.” you admitted.

You looked down at your legs, reprimanding them for letting you down literally in front of him. “Go meet the others.” you heard him say. You thought he talked to you until you looked up and saw his girlfriend leaving you. Of course, skiing perfectly compared to you. At least that made a difference between you two. “I’m bringing you back to the cabin.” he added

“I can do that by myself.” 

“No, you can’t.” you opened your mouth to reply but he stopped you. “But we can try and see how many times you fall without me. I’ll bet on three before your call for my arms again.” 

These types of squabbles were typical of your relationship. You kept doing that when you were together for every little unserious thing. Mostly because it always ended up with kisses and laughs. Nothing was ever serious with Charles and that’s what you loved the most in your couple. Nothing except your breakup.

“Fine.” you mumbled. When you looked at him, you noticed a little amused smile on his face. You weren’t the only one remembering the good days.

Once inside, Charles helped you sit on the sofa and stretched your leg. But he didn’t seem to leave. Instead, he took off his coat and made himself another coffee. “What are you doing?” you asked, confused.

“Making myself a coffee.”

“No shit Charles, I never would have guessed.” 

“Another stupid question?” he said with a big smile while coming closer to you. The thing is, your “yes” came out of your mouth faster than you thought. And you found yourself trapped in a conversation that you had multiple times in your head since you arrived yesterday. “I’m waiting.” he added when you tried to avoid his eyes.

“Why did you find someone that looks like me?” you finally asked. 

Charles laughed on his coffee, putting some on his sweater. That was far from the question he imagined hearing. But it wasn’t a big surprise either. “She doesn’t even look like you,” he replied. He hid his smile behind his cup. Which wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t that concentrated on your conversation.

“Are you kidding me Charles? This is some kind of Ross and Russ situation in Friends!” but you didn’t get any answer to that except for another laugh from him. So that was it? You were just a joke for him? Someone he wanted to make fun of? You felt your joy and curiosity fall immediately at that revelation. “Why do you do that? Why are you dating someone that looks like me?” you asked in a lower voice.

Charles had left for the kitchen so you missed his expression when he heard you. A strange mix of happiness that you were jealous and sadness that he hurt you, which wasn’t the plan. “I wanted to make you jealous.” 

You turned your head, which caused an immediate neckache. “What the hell are you talking about?” you sighed with your eyes closed. Did it make the pain go away? No.

But it made Charles sit next to you.

“You told everyone how you hated me this year.” He said, looking you right in the eyes.

“You broke up with me.”

“You said so many bad things I thought you wanted me dead.” he laughed.

“Well, you broke up with me.”

“You ignored me the whole year. And don’t say it’s because I broke up with you! Because I know, ok? And I regretted it the moment you left my place.”

Confusion wasn’t strong enough to explain how you felt at that moment. Not when on top of what he said, Charles took your hand in his and started gently rubbing your skin with his thumb. “I was an idiot, ok? I still am for what I know. And I didn’t know what to do to make you realize that maybe you still love me.”

“So you brought your girlfriend here?” you asked in a whisper, like it was some kind of secret nobody had to know about. 

Charles moved his face closer to yours so he could whisper back. “I’m not dating her. And I know you’re not dating Andrew either.”

You felt ridiculous keeping this position to whisper in an empty place like that. But the feeling of finding that you love again was stronger than everything. “What would you have done if I wasn’t jealous?”

“I would have played pretend until I left and accepted that I was the biggest idiot for letting the woman I love go.”  Then a smile grew on his lips. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh I’m not done with you Charles Marc Hervé…” you started. But you never finished this sentence. Because Charles was quicker to put his lips on yours and kissed you like he always loved to. Softly, with so much love that you could feel it right in your heart. 

That was how you realized that maybe your heart had been switched off this whole year. Because for the first time in months, you felt lighter. Happier. Loved.

And in love, again. 

[tokkiwrites]

Hi 💗 first of all, I just discovered your tumblr and I already love your work <3 I’m not sure if this is the way to request, but I’d like to request a kraven one shot, where he is absolutely in love with reader but because of a misunderstanding he breaks up with her in a mean but hot way, then he finds out about the truth and tries to get her pardon, ofc I’d love me some angst, smut and dom kraven 🥺🥺 thank you

▪︎summary: You’re a film producer with a busy schedule, and your boyfriend Sergei’s insecurities lead to a heated fight. After realizing his mistake, he goes all out to win you back, proving just how much you mean to him.

▪︎tags: established relationship, kind of toxic sergei imo, a bit of angst, afab reader, p in v, creampie, belly bulge (??), size kink if you squint, fingering reader receiving, makeup sex, a few pet names, mean (slightly) dom sergei.

▪︎first fic of the year!!! thank you for this request!!! it's been sitting in my drafts for a long while, so sorry for making you wait. it has 2.45k words & and it's not proofread, so if you see any errors, no, u didn't !! i hope you enjoy <3

The air in your apartment was thick with tension. You sat on the leather couch, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, waiting for him to return from yet another one of his late-night escapades. It wasn’t unusual for Sergei to disappear without much explanation; his life as a hunter—of men, animals, and vengeance—demanded it. But lately, he’d been colder, distant in a way that left you feeling like a stranger in your own relationship.

When the door finally opened, his broad frame filled the entryway. His face, shadowed by the dim light of the city outside, was unreadable. "You’re home late." you said softly, setting your phone down. He closed the door behind him with deliberate slowness, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. "We need to talk."

Your stomach tightened. "What’s going on?"

"I found something," he said, pulling a small, crumpled note from his pocket and tossing it onto the coffee table. You glanced at it, confused. It was one of your old grocery lists. "What about it?"

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I saw the address written on the back. A warehouse in the docks. Care to explain why you were there?" You blinked, trying to recall. "That was weeks ago. I picked up some things for work— props for the shoot. I told you about it."

"No, what you told me was that you were with your team. But I asked around. Your team never uses that place." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made your skin prickle.

"Sergei, what are you getting at?"

"I think you’ve been hiding something," he said, stepping closer. "I’ve seen this before. People lying, playing both sides, thinking they can outsmart me." Your chest tightened with frustration. "Are you serious right now? You think I’m involved in…what? Some conspiracy? Smuggling?"

"Don’t." His voice dropped, dangerously low. "Don’t play innocent. I saw you meeting someone there— a man."

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. Then it clicked. "Oh my God. You’re talking about Steve, aren’t you? He’s my set designer! He was helping me load props for the commercial."

"Steve," he repeated, skeptical.

"Yes, Steve! Sergei, do you think I have some secret life I’m keeping from you? Do you really think I’d risk everything for…for what, exactly?"

He didn’t answer, his jaw tightening.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, standing. "You’ve been pulling away for weeks, acting like I’m the problem, and now I find out it’s because you think I’m some kind of criminal?"

"You’ve lied before," he said, his voice softer but still firm.

You froze. "That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The one time I didn’t tell you I was scared on one of your hunts, and now you think I’m some kind of liar."

Sergei ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. "Trust is not something I give lightly. And once it’s broken—"

"Once it’s broken, what? You punish me forever?" Your voice cracked. "I’ve been trying so hard to be there for you, to understand your life, and this is how you repay me?"

His silence was answer enough.

You grabbed your coat, the tears burning in your eyes now impossible to hold back. "You know what, Sergei? If you can’t trust me by now, maybe you don’t deserve me," you said, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. You shoved past him, grabbing your bag from the counter. "I’m done trying to prove myself to someone who’s determined to see the worst in me."

He didn’t stop you. He just stood there, the weight of your words settling into the room like a physical presence.

When the door slammed behind you, Sergei was left alone with his thoughts, the silence deafening. His instincts, honed through years of hunting and survival, were screaming at him that he had made a mistake. But pride held him back from chasing after you.

Days passed, and Sergei couldn’t get you out of his head. Every corner of his apartment reminded him of you—the mug you always used, the blanket you insisted on leaving draped over the couch, your perfume faintly lingering in the air.

But what haunted him most was the look in your eyes when you left. Hurt. Betrayed.

It wasn’t until he found himself back at the docks that everything began to unravel. He wasn’t there to check on you or verify his suspicions— he was there to work, tracking a lead on a smuggling operation tied to his latest hunt.

And that’s when he saw the warehouse you’d mentioned. Inside, he spotted Steve, the “man” he had been so suspicious of, overseeing a crew as they dismantled what appeared to be a film set. Lights, props, and equipment were being packed into cases.

“Perfect timing!” Steve called out when he spotted Sergei lingering by the entrance. “We just wrapped. Your girl's idea for the shoot went off without a hitch.”

Sergei’s stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Steve said, grinning. “She practically ran this whole project. She even came out here herself to supervise when we couldn’t get everything transported in time. Total lifesaver.”

Sergei’s heart sank. The anger he’d held onto for days evaporated, replaced by a crushing guilt. He had been so consumed by his doubts and paranoia that he’d completely misjudged you.

“Where is she now?” Sergei asked, his voice rough.

Steve shrugged. “Last I heard, she was taking some time off. Said she needed a break.”

It took Sergei two more days to track you down. You had retreated to a quiet café on the other side of town, tucked into a corner booth with a notebook and a cup of tea. When you saw him approach, your expression hardened. “What are you doing here?”

"Love, Iㅡ” he said, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft. “I made a mistake.”

“You think?” you shot back, closing your notebook with a sharp snap. “I was wrong,” he continued, sitting across from you despite your obvious reluctance. “I let my fears and suspicions cloud my judgment. I accused you of something you didn’t do, and I pushed you away because of it.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Why are you really here, Sergei? To ease your guilt? Or to make yourself feel better about what you said to me?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m here because I love you. And because I can’t stand the thought of losing you over my own stupidity.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to let yourself melt just yet. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? How little you must think of me to believe I’d do something like that?”

He reached across the table, his hand hovering over yours. “I don’t think little of you. I think too much of you. I’ve lost so much in my life. People I trusted. People I loved. And when I thought I might lose you too…” He swallowed hard. “I panicked. I lashed out. I was wrong.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, the raw sincerity in his eyes breaking through your defenses. “Do you know how exhausting it is, Sergei, to always feel like I’m on trial with you?”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “And I promise you, I will do better. I will earn back your trust—if you’ll let me.” You hesitated, the walls around your heart crumbling piece by piece. “One more chance,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “But if you screw this up again, Sergei…”

“I won’t,” he said quickly, his hand finally closing over yours. “I won’t.”

As he held your gaze, the faintest flicker of hope warmed your chest. You weren’t ready to forgive him completely, but for now, you were willing to try.

And for Sergei, that was enough. "Let's go home?" he finally asks. You look up at him, and you can't contain a smile. "Sure. Let's go home..."

As Sergei unlocked the door to his loft, you stepped inside and froze. The space, usually dark and utilitarian, was transformed. Soft warm light bathed the room, illuminating dozens of vases filled with vibrant flowers. Roses, lilies, tulips, every kind you could imagine. A faint, delicate fragrance hung in the air, calming and intoxicating all at once.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your eyes

wide. "Sergei.. what is this?" He shut the door behind him, watching you with a soft smile. "A gesture," he said simply. You turned to him, a mix of awe and confusion on your face. "How did you know I'd forgive you?"

His smile grew faintly sad, his sharp features softened by vulnerability. "I didn't." He took a step closer, his hands resting lightly on your arms. "But I wanted you to know what you mean to me. Even if you walked away for good."

Your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice. You looked back at the flowers, the effort he had put into creating this moment, and you felt the last of your anger dissolve.

Reaching out, you picked up a bouquet of white roses from the coffee table and cradled them against your chest. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He chuckled, his hands sliding down to take yours, the flowers between you. "Maybe." You laughed softly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth of his body against yours. Looking up into his piercing blue eyes, you saw the Sergei you had fallen in love with: the fierce, unyielding hunter who was willing to bare his heart for you.

Unable to hold back any longer, you leaned up and kissed him. His lips met yours hungrily, his hands pulling you closer as if to make sure you wouldn't slip away again. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, igniting a fire in your core that burned away every lingering doubt

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, his hands slid down to your waist. "Come," he said softly, his voice thick with desire.

Without hesitation, you let him lead you to the bedroom. The space was just as carefully prepared as the rest of the loft. The bed was freshly made with crisp sheets, more flowers arranged on the nightstands, and soft candlelight flickered around the room.

You turned to him with a playful smile. "You really went all out, didn't you?" He stepped closer, his hands sliding up your sides, his lips brushing against your ear. "I don't take chances when it comes to you."

Before you could respond, his lips found yours again, his touch more insistent now, his hands trailing down your back. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his eyes.

"I'll let you make it up to me." You giggle, arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Thank you, baby." In no time, he gets both of you naked, and as if it's the first time, you can't help but shy away a bit. Pulling you closer, his calloused palms travel across your torso, tracing the curves so perfectly. Your already messy hair and burning body invited him to climb over you completely. One of his fingers presses over your lips. "Open."

You do as you're told, parting your puffy lips and letting Sergei’s finger slip in. "Wider." he demands, pushing in another digit, traveling well past your tongue and into the back of your throat. It makes you gag slightly, but you moan around his fingers. He smiles proudly, thrusting his fingers into your mouth and slicking them up before removing them. You're left gasping for air. "Good girl." you shudder.

he motions you further on your back before lining his fingers with your exposed core. "m gonna work you out a little, baby, yeah? then make you take my cock." he doesn't hesitate for long. the slick and wet noises fill the room as Sergei pushes his fingers inside, causing you to buck your hips agains his hand. Your head turns to the side as you try to hide that growing warmth in your cheeks. those two fingers worked into you, turning you into a incoherent mess. A familiar feeling was building up inside your lower belly. "gotta come, baby?" he coos, mocking you. "can't have you do that. Need to feel my cock buried deep inside of that pretty pussy first."

his tainted words make your brain all fuzzy, soft whimpers and pleads parting from your agape mouth. "p-please" his fingers slip out of you, the feeling of emptiness being short-lived as Sergei pushes inside of you full force. This is the first time Sergei has made you take his cock all at once. His hips snap against your, eyes digging into you as if eating you alive. He's merciless, grabbing you by the cheeks harshly and making you look down at your belly, where a familiar bump was visible. "See that, baby?" He laughs. He was so deep inside of you. You can't help but squeeze around him.

"there's my good g-girlㅡ" he groans in utmost pleasure, roughly hitting just the right spot over and over. he pulls out almost completely before snapping his hips forward again, causing you to moan louder, breath hitching as his cock brushed, and probably bruised, your velvety walls.

"I'm gonna fill you up so good, love." he leans down and rasps into your ear "make you leak all overㅡ fuck!"

"p-lease, Sergei" you cry out, gripping him by his broad shoulders, the thrust quickening. he frowns, closing his eyes as he tightly grips you by your thighs. "gonna come all over my cock, baby, huh?"

with one last harsh snap of his hips, he sends you both into heaven and back. You each finish, and you can feel his come pooling inside of you. Your mind and vision blurry, you manage to whisper out a soft "I forgive you." Sergei falls next to you, pulling you closer to his chest as he kisses the crown of your head.

"I love you so much, baby " you smile before you reply with those three words that still make butterflies fly in his stomach."I love you."

[steviewashere]

I saw everybody sharing their fave fanfics they read over the course of 2024, so I thought I'd go ahead and share some that I've bookmarked! Heads up, I may have recommended a few of these before in my attempts to do recommendations in previous months, but it doesn't hurt anybody to share them again.

Also, as always, heed all archive warnings, tags, and ratings for each piece. Be kind, leave kudos and comments, and most importantly, happy reading! <3

My 2024 Fave Fanfics in No Particular Order:

Yours (all along) by ohstars | @oh-stars "Eddie Munson has spent the last ten years trying to move on from the collapse of Hawkins. Now he's starting at a new school on the coast of South Carolina with the hopes that he can find some kind of peace in this new life of his. Of course, that's turned on his head when a freshman decides to get under his skin and when that freshman's parents happen to be his nemesis (and love of his life) and one of his former best friends? Eddie's certain the universe has it in for him. Now he has to navigate teaching his enemy's child and dealing with the Incident that started it all, that he's been running away from this whole time. Is it time to start running? Or will Eddie finally be brave enough to tackle his feelings head on?" Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 16/16 | Steddie

keep my hand in yours by cydonic "Eddie Munson, a cleaner at a regional airport in Indiana, finds a boy asleep on the floor outside Departure Gate A3 on Christmas Eve. Eddie's always had a soft spot for strays, so he takes Steve Harrington home for the holidays." Explicit | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

my heart has changed (my soul has changed) by Chubbypeachh "Four years after the breakup that broke Steve Harrington, he's face to face with Eddie at a New Year's Eve party." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

The Dearest and Best by emchant3d | @emchant3d "Eddie never second guessed that Wayne had him. Always. No matter what. Until he was gone." Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Eddie & Wayne, Steddie

sometimes by kas_eddie_munson | @kas-eddie-munson "And he knew, really, it was silly. But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing. Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar. Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop. Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while. And here he was. Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive. The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step. And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair. ONE step. ~~~ Or, everything is different after Vecna. Eddie Munson's body will never be the same, and neither will he." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

Follow Your Heart by steddiecameraroll | @steddiecameraroll "Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop. “Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into. “You ok?” The man asks. Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now. -or- Eddie keeps seeing a man he bumped into and for some reason can't stop thinking about him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

don't say nothing's wrong by MomotoneScreaming | @momotonescreaming "“If you’re gonna continue to bully me, dude,” Steve starts, brows furrowing; lips pursed in a tight, angry line. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.” or A Dustin Henderson character analysis" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steve & Dustin

safe and sound by sidekick_hero | @sidekick-hero "What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives?" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

I Love You (it's ruining my life) by LadySlytherin "Steve Harrington is three years old the first time he coughs up a flower petal. He's nineteen when he learns the flowers in his lungs are finally killing him. Sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem...and sometimes, they're a whole lot simpler." Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Chapters: 3/3 | Steddie

you still dance but you're out of time by Atalia_Gold | @ataliagold "“Because what, Steve?” Oh, he’s dropped the Harrington now, and Steve knows he’s fucked, knows Hopper’s not going to back off. “Because I can’t fucking sleep, ok?” Steve whispers, his voice hoarse and broken. “When I do, I dream about…about the fucking Upside Down, about my friends dying, about me being too slow to save them, and I wake up screaming. And I can hardly get to sleep anyway because these,” Steve yanks his three layers up, reveals the marred skin on his sides, “keep me awake.” Hopper’s face is stony, unreadable. For a moment, Steve feels some sick kind of gratification that he’s managed to render the man speechless. That he’s made somebody care. ***** Until now, nobody's worked out that Steve's essentially homeless, living in his car. But one night, when Steve's cold and alone and in pain, Hopper chances across him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie, Steve & Hopper

I read so many other fics over the course of 2024. Unfortunately, I am the kind of person who often doesn't use their brain or resources, so I didn't bookmark everything I read over the whole year. Anyway. Hopefully, this new year will be better for us all—even if you thought 2024 was your best, may it get better anyway—and also, of course, may Steve/Eddie stay in our brains and hearts.

I've had such a fun year writing. (For Christ's sake, I wrote over 100 fics like I was going to die at any moment.) And I've already got a few fics coming out within the first two weeks of January. Also, so many other fics planned out for the rest of the year; as well as fics that I'd like finish—looking at you, Mer Steve, my Stommy fic, and Single Parent Eddie/Hairstylist Steve. I'm sure I'll be a mess of words all year, hair wild as I try to complete challenges, but it's fun at the end.

Love y'all, thank you for a marginally great 2024! Seriously, 2025, please be better for my soul.

[hazzashouse]

The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

Hi! Welcome to my new series The Space Between Us! This is a Harry Styles x OC fanfiction, where Harry plays himself—a global superstar—and the story explores his reunion with Sophie Pearson, his childhood best friend (and maybe more…). Expect moments filled with angst, tension, and heartwarming memories as they navigate the challenges of reconnection.

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Triggers: None - this chapter is light :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,112 Words

Enjoy the first chapter, and let me know what you think!

Chapter one: A Familiar Face

“Sophie! Where’s the seating chart?”

Her brother’s voice boomed from the dining room, sending a ripple of urgency through the already chaotic house. Sophie Pearson was halfway up the stairs, one hand clutching a clipboard and the other holding a pen precariously between her teeth.

“It’s on the table, next to the candles!” she yelled back, spinning around to double-check her mental checklist.

The house was a hive of activity. Family members, caterers, and a few overenthusiastic friends buzzed around, each consumed by their own tasks. The faint hum of a vacuum cleaner fought against the soundtrack of wedding prep chaos: doors slamming, hurried footsteps, and someone playing music too loudly in the kitchen.

Sophie reached the landing and poked her head into the guest room, where the bride’s dress hung like a masterpiece in a gallery. Everything seemed fine here. She exhaled a small breath of relief and moved on.

Downstairs, her brother Anthony appeared in the foyer, adjusting his tie.

“You’re too calm for someone getting married in three hours,” Sophie teased, her tone sharp but fond.

“Someone in this family has to be,” Anthony shot back, grinning. “Besides, I have you to keep everything on track.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, flipping through her clipboard.

————————

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

As Sophie rushed from room to room, the house seemed to breathe with memories. Every corner held whispers of the past—of childhood laughter, whispered secrets, and endless summers spent with the boy who used to be her best friend.

Harry Styles.

Her chest tightened at the thought of him. Their lives had once been so intertwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Their mothers had been inseparable, which meant Sophie and Harry had been inseparable too. Sleepovers turned into late-night talks, and holidays together became their little tradition.

But that was a lifetime ago. Before The X Factor. Before the world knew his name.

Sophie tried to shove the thought aside, but it lingered like a shadow. She could still remember the last time she had seen him.

It had been an unusually cold night. They stood at the edge of their favorite park, the one where they’d shared so many childhood adventures.

“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she had said, her voice breaking as she hugged herself against the chill.

“That’s not true,” Harry had insisted, his eyes wide with something like guilt.

“Then prove it,” she’d snapped, hating herself for how desperate she sounded. “Because I’m not just some fan waiting for your attention, Harry. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he’d said, his voice soft but resolute. But even then, they both knew the promise was an impossible one.

————————

“Sophie!”

Her cousin Lizzie’s voice snapped her back to the present. “The florist needs to know where to put the centerpieces!”

Sophie blinked and nodded, forcing a smile. “Tell them to arrange them on the dining table for now. I’ll figure it out.”

The clock was ticking. The bride would be arriving in less than an hour, and Sophie was determined to make sure everything was perfect for her brother’s big day. She adjusted her clipboard, smoothing down her blouse as she made her way back downstairs.

Outside, the January air was crisp and cold. Guests began arriving, filling the house with a mix of excitement and chatter. Sophie was so focused on coordinating the details that she didn’t notice the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.

She was checking on the catering setup when the front door creaked open. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught a glimpse of movement.

“Finally, the photographer,” she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She turned to greet them, her lips already forming a polite smile. But the words died on her tongue.

It wasn’t the photographer.

It was Harry.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft winter sunlight. He looked older but still impossibly familiar—like a piece of her past brought to life. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of nervousness and amusement.

“Hi, Sophie,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her clipboard slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor.

For a moment, the chaos of the wedding melted away. All she could see was him—the boy she had grown up with, the man who had become a stranger.

Her vision swam.

“Sophie?”

Harry’s voice was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

As Sophie sank into unconsciousness, her mind conjured an old memory—their last conversation before he left for good.

“You’re leaving again?” she had asked, her voice trembling with frustration.

“I have to,” Harry had said, running a hand through his curls. “This is my dream, Soph. You of all people should understand that.”

“I do,” she’d whispered. “But it feels like you’re choosing your dream over me.”

He’d reached for her then, his hand brushing against hers, but she’d stepped back.

“Good luck, Harry,” she had said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I hope it’s everything you want.”

And then she had turned and walked away.

————————

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

[pbuckets-5]

uconns lost player part 2

authors note - hey y’all i’m back

warnings - angst, SWEARING, alcohol, fluff if you squint, smut if you reaaaally look

be prepared

21 - gracie abrams

i see the look in your eye and i’m biting my tongue

the sharp echo of the ball slamming against the wood floor echoed through the gym, each bounce sending a shock through your body. you freeze, clutching your basketball under your arm like a lifeline.

“long time no see,” nika’s voice rings throughout the empty gym, the ball momentarily stopping. another pair of footsteps pad across the gym floor, coming to a stop with an abrupt squeak.

“y/n.” geno’s voice cuts through the charged air like a knife, his words sharp, as if he was about to coach you.

you spin around on your heel, smiling sheepishly. your cheeks flush pink, the two combined gazes making you shrink. “uh.” you start, stuttering. “hi?”

after what felt like hours of hard labor and repeated shots from all over the court, geno finally released you with a slap on the back and a note from him clearing you to the nurse to begin to play again (involuntarily). nika walked out with you, an eerie silence falling between you.

she tentatively reaches out to touch your arm, stopping you in your tracks. you stare at one another for a moment before she speaks up, her voice hoarse from the hours of exertion.

“you know..” she begins, clearing her throat. “paige misses you. i don’t know how she’s going to react when you come back. just, please, don’t pull the bullshit you pulled again. you know that’ll break her.” she pauses, as if she almost regrets what she’s thinking. the silence falls thickly between you, the air charged with unspoken words. “you should really come back to kk’s apartment. it’s where the girls are celebrating.” she pauses after seeing the totally mortified expression on your face. “just.. try.”

and that’s how you found yourself slumped in the front seat of nika’s car, the music playing quietly in the background as she talks about the game. “you would’ve loved it,” she says, a soft, nostalgic smile on her face. “you would’ve dominated.” she says, tearing her eyes from the road to look at your slumped figure. you wondered if she could see your racing heart or maybe even read your mind.

“eyes on the road!” you say, gesturing for her to look back to the car in front of us. “oh gosh!” you say, straightening in your seat. you can’t help the small smile that graces your cheeks, glancing over at your closest hoop buddy.

“i know how to drive, dipshit.” she says, grinning wider now as she pulls into the all too familiar parking lot leading to kk’s apartment.

your heart suddenly leaps, and you realize what the fuck you’re actually doing right now. you’ve just dug yourself a 6 foot hole, and you’re about to jump into it when you step into this apartment.

“fuck.” you murmur, climbing out of nika’s car. you could immediately recognize multiple cars in the parking lot as many that you’ve been in before. you followed behind her like a lost puppy as you stepped into the elevator, counting the seconds until your heart goons into cardiac arrest.

as the two of you step out of the elevator, nika places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “it’s going to be fine. everybody misses you, anyways.” she says, flashing you that grin.

you smile back, trying to ignore there way your stomach twists as you take steps closer to the apartment. you can hear laughter and the bustling sounds of movement from outside, even from down the hall. you trail behind nika, hiding behind her broad shoulders as she pushed the door open.

the conversation falls for a moment, then quickly replaced by cheers.

“how was private torture with coach?” kk bounds over, seemly not noticing you as you fall back, even farther behind nika. you sag by the door, a blank but clearly terrified look plastered on your face.

nika drags you in my your wrist, and you can hear the gasp that echos through the room. all heads turn towards a slumped blonde one, her braids as always perfect and her usual bubbly self dimmed.

kk was the one to save the day, a broad grin spreading across her cheeks as she envelopes you in a hug, her arms squeezing you. “oh my god! i haven’t seen you in ages!” she squeals, squeezing the literal air out of you.

“yeah.” you croak out, wrapping your arms around her. “i haven’t seen you in a while.” you shoot nika a death glare for dragging you here, something that used to be your safe haven but was now a hell-hole.

she let’s go, finally, and bounds to the other side of the room, her radiant energy drawing everyone’s eyes to her. they were all obviously intoxicated, the room scattered with beer cans.

“paige!” she says, and you can feel your heart drop. all eyes turn to you as the color drains from your face, quickly then returning with a flushed hue. this is the closest you’ve been to paige since the accident, and your heart was already pounding out of your chest.

when she looked up, her red-rimmed eyes met yours with a look a pure shock, then betrayal, and then absolute admiration. you couldn't tell if she was mad as hell or proud to see you up again.

a snort escapes azzi's mouth, and a roll of her eyes only confirmed her feelings about you. "the fuck is she doing here?" she hisses, her eyes narrowing down on your shrinking figure.

"azzi." nika warns, her tone sharp and motherly. "enough. she's joining the team again." she says, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders.

you couldn't wipe the way paige's face contorted at the sight of you. her mouth dropped open in shock, her nose crinkling slightly, something she does when shes happy, her eyes widening. the look was enough to leave you shaken for a lifetime, especially since she was still staring you down with the same look.

annoyance flashed across azzi's face, her eyebrows furrowing in anger. "we did just fine without her. why does she need to come back now? just because paige didn't drop 30 on a few games? it's not like she cared any sooner." she ranted, her voice droning and painful to listen to.

the room fell deathly silent, so quiet that you could literally hear kk's breathing.

your face flushed pink. "i think i'll go." you murmur the first words all night, spinning on your heel and ignoring nika and kk's protests, and azzi's obnoxious laughter.

you shut the door behind you, exhaling deeply and leaning against the wall. you try to calm your twisted stomach, or your racing heart, but that only picks up when you hear the door click open beside you.

a tall, very drunk blonde steps out, her bright blue eyes landing on you. before you have time to react, her lips are pressed against yours, a satisfied sigh slipping past her lips.

your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. this is the sole thought that's starred in your head ever since paige had finally left you alone. you thought that's what you wanted.

your hands slide to the nape of her neck, playing with the ends of her ponytail. her large hands slide down to your waist, drawing mindless shapes through your t-shirt.

"m' sorry about azzi." she mutters, pulling away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "i'm just glad you're back. i missed you." her voice is tinged with sympathy and a mix of desire.

"missed you more." you say.

last thing you remember from last night.

you wake up in a frenzy, peeling open your eyes in a too-familiar bed. "shit!" you hiss, throwing the blankets off you. you scramble the floor for your clothes, picking up discarded items and throwing them on. a rustle from the bed reminds you of what a painfully awkward situation you're in.

paige groans, then gasps, a horrible sound cutting through the silence of the apartment.

"y/n?!"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On the discussions of leadership and leona finding fulfillment in the future, i’ve always found the times he’s stood out most in twst to be when he is mentoring someone. Subtly, never giving people answers but guiding them towards them, using language and examples they understand. We see it with ruggie, jack, jamil, all of savannaclaw and so many other characters.

which gets me thinking: what if leona becomes a teacher? he’d get the acknowledgment for his skills and ability he needs, but also be able to help improve sunset savanna by educating and equalizing the playing field for the next generation.

Ruggie’s dream got me thinking about it and now i can’t get it out of my head as a possible route to where he can get the things he ultimately needs to thrive.

Relevant posts: [ Does Leona need to be king to be happy? / Would Leona be a better king that Falena? / Catching up with him in book 7 ] [My thoughts on the book 7 part 11 Leona update is here!]

I agree that Leona tends to shine when he’s in a leadership or mentorship role to younger students! This occurs multiple times over, both in main stories (notably book 2, 3, 6, and 7), vignettes (his Camping Gear, Epel’s Union Jacket, etc.), and various voice lines (typically from younger students remarking on their admiration for him). He's actually really good at explaining things to others in a simplistic enough way and with realistic examples that slot neatly into their worldviews. I don't know that I would call it "subtle" though, there have definitely been times where Leona just outright tells others what to do or what's wrong with their way of thinking (mainly with Jamil in book 6, or ordering around his fellow magift/spelldrive team members). I think when you say "subtle", it's more like Leona has a way of leading others to acting in his favor, as he can occasionally have his own ulterior motives in imparting wisdom. (For example, he helps out the first years with mining for magestones so he can nap without being disturbed.)

Mmmm… I do think the idea of Leona as a teacher is interesting, but I don’t know if that would feasibly work. I think we as the players can appreciate, say, the NRC staff, but in reality teaching is often a thankless job where parents and/or the school board will blame you for students not performing. You also need to put in several (unpaid) hours of work outside of class grading, preparing lessons, going to meetings, etc. I don’t know that he would be satisfied with “grunt work” like that. I think he’d also have to go back to get his masters/teaching license, which means more studies 💀

I also think the scale of teaching is too small for Leona’s ideals. Yes, technically your lessons will have a continuous or long-term impact because your students might then graduate and go on to change the world thanks to your teachings. But, in my opinion, it better suits his grand ambitions to be the one establishing schools and then leaving others to run those institutions for him; he’d have a much larger impact (and more immediate results, which is what Leona is after) that way, similar to how it is portrayed in Ruggie’s dream. A single teacher, by comparison, can do little to change the system for the countless people who need it (for example, the starving children in the slums). Additionally, it’s easier for Leona to control his own projects as some higher authority, whereas it’s not do easy for him to control what students do once they leave his tutelage—and for Leona, bring in command is important (he had no vice dorm leader because of this).

I also have to wonder if teaching is really the right field for Leona to get into…? I think people often confuse “being good at something” with “liking something”. This is also true of many fandom depictions of Leona; fans tend to claim he’s just “being tsundere” when he acts grumpy around his juniors other nephew Cheka and that he secretly harbors great love for kids. And while I do love me a wholesome take, I just don’t see that 💦 His official profile states his pet peeve is “dealing with kids”; why would objective information from an official profile be a lie? His annoyance seems pretty consistent and genuine when he is assigned some kind of babysitting-adjacent task, and he acts like he would rather not if given the choice but has to anyway in order to avoid graver consequences for himself, a dorm leader. I don’t think he would want to intentionally sign up for a job that means he has to put up with kids on a daily basis—and especially rebellious teenagers that won’t necessarily do what he tells them to.

I guess the comparison you could make here is Crewel, who also seemed to be wild in his youth and also seems to dislike children and disobedience—yet somehow he changed careers from fashion designer to science professor. He had a lot in common with Leona, so I think it could be argued that Leona could still potentially go down the teacher path. If I recall correctly, Leona has also tutored Ruggie and helped him achieve okay grades in present day—so Leona has a track record with teaching. We don’t know for sure what could happen; a lot can change and the future’s unpredictable! But for now, I definitely still think Leona’s ambitions wouldn’t stop at just teaching classes; he’d want to do way more.

… Imagine the insanity of having a literal big-boobed PRINCE as your professor though 💀 I don’t know if I would be able to concentrate properly in that lecture…

[thoughtfulfiction]

Hike of a Lifetime

Author’s Note: Set in the 2022 offseason after Justin’s labrum surgery in January 2023. Rewriting my first Justin fic is a full circle moment for me so I hope you like this one!

The last two hours of your life had been spent going over orders of Gatorade protein shakes, protein pack quick bites that usually contained some sort of cheese and sausage, various brands of Greek yogurt, apples, bananas, blueberries, granola bars and anything else you could think of to stock the weight room with while you were on vacation. You had been the head nutritionist for the UCLA men's basketball team for the last year, making customized, ever changing meal plans and consulting with the health care staff to enhance your athlete's performance to the best of your ability.

After the team's loss to Gonzaga in the NCAA tournament known as March Madness, you ran to Eugene, Oregon at the first opportunity you had to go see your sister Chloe. March up until this point was one busy day after another, truly living up to the name. Most days you didn't even feel like you got to sit down for more than 10 minutes at a time due to the constant travel and meetings you had to attend. So you took a week off and as soon as you closed your laptop today, you were going to enjoy being one with nature.

Chloe had moved to Eugene two years before you got your LA job, working as a team photographer for the University of Oregon's football team, allowing the two of you to see each other during conference play more often, which had done wonders for your relationship. It's one thing to be siblings but you could genuinely call her a friend now, which was both weird to say aloud, and nice.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Chloe steps into the living room, breaking you out of your vigorous typing. You look up and groan at the guilty look on her face. That was definitely an I have a work emergency and I’m going to be leaving you, look.

"No. You're not canceling on me. I got here two days ago and I have yet to really be outside. How am I supposed to enjoy some of the most beautiful scenery of my life if I'm stuck at the house the whole time? Does spring ball even matter anyway?"

Chloe laughs, heading into the kitchen to grab a snack. You'd recently lectured her about how although cereal is a grain, she can't consider it a food group and she needs to introduce more of a balanced variety in her diet. Unless she enjoys her daily 4pm sugar crash. She surprises you by pulling out a bowl of overnight oats from the fridge, with strawberries on top. After giving her your nod of approval, she gets back to the issue at hand. "Yes, spring ball matters. But I promise you it will not take me that long, I'll be back before you know it."

You huff out a breath, trying to come up with a solution. "What if you have one of your interns do it? Mine are really holding down the fort this week, I'm obviously working from home to help them out a little and I think you should do the same."

"Well our jobs are a little different. I can give them things to edit and post but I don't want to have to approve every single one of their photos and make sure they're featuring the right position groups and players based on a schedule that I created in my head. It'll just be easier if I'm there to walk them through it and then I can come home and we'll have a relaxing week until you have to be back in messy Hollywood."

"It's just Los Angeles, not Hollywood, genius. I still work at a university just like you do," you laugh at her exaggerated version of the place you now call home.

She rolls her eyes, stepping away from her food to grab her keys. "Same difference. It's all polluted air and earthquakes anyway."

Finally finished with your task, you stand up to snatch the keys out of her hand and lead the way to the garage. "Whatever, I'm in clean air now and would really like to be able to experience it. So I'll be dropping you off and getting to my hike."

You get out of the car and the sun immediately hits your skin, not in a way that’s intense but rejuvenating, bringing you back to life. The scent of early spring, mixed in with the sweet smell of freshly bloomed rhododendron sparks a further revival. The air really is different here. Life is more…undisturbed.

Families are getting out of their vehicles without a crushing sense of urgency that you’re used to, people are laughing and enjoying each other’s company and you’ve been to this park before so you feel somewhat comfortable navigating the terrain on your own, opting to quiet the sounds of the world by listening to a podcast during your leisurely stroll. Without even making it a mile on the trail, you spot a friendly black dog making his way over to you, nudging your leg with his wet nose, essentially demanding that you pet him. You usually probably wouldn’t have but the serene energy of the space you’re in brings it out of you.

“Well hello there, buddy. Who do you belong to?” You bent down to search for a name on his collar. “Dylan, that’s a cute name. Should we go find who you came here with before someone has a heart attack?” You laughed softly as the dog happily panted away and let you grab onto the leash. Before you could even take a step, you heard a booming voice calling out the dog’s name.

The distressed figure comes into view and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much for grabbing him. I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you, I bent down to tie my shoe and this guy decided to make a break for it.”

“He’s taking advantage of the fact that you only have one good arm.” You point out, remembering the shoulder surgery announcement you saw in the LA Times. The man was probably getting used to having both arms again. “No worries, he’s sweet. And super friendly.” You handed him the leash and he thanked you again.

“I seriously owe you, my mom would’ve killed me if I lost our dog when I just got home.” He chuckles nervously. God his laugh was cute. “I’m sorry, I never got your name. I’m Justin.”

“I know.” You smile. “It’s nice to meet you though, I’m y/n. Hope you enjoy the rest of your hike.” You grabbed your AirPods and went to place them back in your ears to finish getting lost in your own little world once again before he stops you.

“Wait—maybe we could finish out the hike…together? You know, just so Dylan doesn’t take advantage of me again.” Maybe he was just being cautious because there was no way he was flirting with you…right?

Those green eyes were going to get you in trouble and you knew it. But you were on a beautiful scenic getaway and hiking with Justin Herbert wasn’t going to come around every single day.

“Let’s do it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt your shoulder even more chasing after Dylan. Bolt nation might collectively collapse if anything happens to you so I’m calling this a public service.”

He unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “What a Good Samaritan you are.”

Justin was funny. And sweet. And the most fun company you’ve had in a while. You talked about your job, the entire NCAA tournament and what you both thought about being in LA. Even though you both lived very different lives, it was filled with sports and schedules and meetings and practices and there were a lot of things to bond over. Before you knew it you’d been out there for three hours and Rachel texted you to let you know she was done and ready to resume your sisterly activities. He took a look at your deflated expression.

“Do you need to head out?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You whispered. “This was fun though.”

He readjusts the hat on his head. “Yeah this was great. Um, I meant what I said earlier though. I owe you.” He gestures towards the phone in your hands and you hand it to him watching him type in his number, texting himself immediately so he has yours.

“Maybe we could grab dinner or something before you head back to LA?” He states pensively, holding his breath a bit until you answer.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you head back to the parking lot and you give Dylan one more pat on the head. You look up to meet Justin’s gaze, shy smiles painting both of your faces. He walked you all the way to your car and waved goodbye as you drove away to meet Rachel.

While you waited all you could do was stare at your phone, Justin had given you his number and you had his. He’d put his actual contact information in your phone AND had asked you to go to dinner. None of this felt like real life, what kind of person stumbles upon an NFL quarterback on a normal hike?

“Why are you smiling like that? It scares me.” Chloe interrupts your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized she opened the door and got in the car. “Did that hike change your life or something?” She finished with a dry laugh.

“I’m not sure, but I think it may have…”

Rachel nods her head slowly, desperately hoping to understand what’s going on. “Yeah okay whatever. Let’s get some lunch because I am absolutely starving.”

You put the car in drive, your phone notifying you of a text from its spot on the dashboard car mount. Rachel grabs it and asks, “who the hell is Justin and why is he asking if you’re free tomorrow night?”

“Just some guy I met while hiking, no big deal,” you tried and failed to be nonchalant. She knew you way better than that.

“If it’s really no big deal then tell that to the gigantic smile on your face. You’re going on that date. I’m texting him back to let him know you’ll be free.”

All that Chloe knows is his name. The rest of it you decide to keep to yourself not only to respect his privacy but you want to keep this special thing for you and only you. In case this doesn’t go anywhere, you’ll always have the memory of today and whatever happens on Friday to look back on fondly. And by telling your sister you’re putting a little bit more pressure on it, like this has to become something. You don’t really know this guy yet, only the small tidbits that he shared on the walk and that his family dog’s name is Dylan, who would run away with any stranger if enough treats were offered.

There are so many things going through your mind as you change your outfit for the fourth time tonight. What if he thinks you’re boring? Or he’s boring? What happens if the two of you run out of things to say and you’re just sitting in the restaurant in awkward silence until someone decides to call it a night? Even worse, what if this is the best date you ever go on, you fall for him and then never hear from him again because he’s an NFL quarterback and you sometimes spend three hours a day planning out breakfast options for 18-22 year old basketball players.

You glanced in the mirror, slinging a tiny black purse over your shoulder with a subtle smirk on the way out the door at your final clothing choice. Chloe mentioned that the car outside being a super nice Porsche and you made something up about thinking that he worked in finance or a job closely related to that so she wouldn't keep digging for more information. All she followed up with was "have fun and be safe."

Ambrosia's staff walked you and Justin into the restaurant by the back entrance into a private room, which was the most abnormal part of the night. The rest of the evening was spent consuming seafood stuffed mushrooms, pasta and sharing a classic tiramisu, the best one you'd ever had in your life.

The nerves that once seeped through every pore were quickly replaced with what a vacation was supposed to feel like. Conversation flowed easily, there was no pressure to be perfect or funny or overly sexy. Justin was so…normal. He was pretty, not in a way that was intimidating because you really weren’t sure he realized how attractive he actually is. But pretty in a sense that everything about him made him more attractive. His ability to actively listen to the words you say and bring them back up when it’s relevant. The way his dimples are more pronounced when he laughs. The way he stops mid conversation to say thank you to the service staff every time they refill his water. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wasn’t filled with humility and kindness. Everything he did was gentle. And on top of all of that he paid without hesitation.This date truly had been a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.”

His lips curl into a smile, “this was probably the best first date I’ve had.” He doesn’t know why he’s just admitted that to you, but he’s glad it’s out there now.

“Me too,” you stand up out of your chair after he does, a collection of butterflies appearing in your stomach when he places a hand on the small of your back, before encasing his hand with yours to lead you out of the restaurant.

“When are you heading back to LA?” He asks. You only know that because you’re reading his lips and not listening to a word he’s saying. You really want to kiss him.

You hesitate to lean in, bringing your focus back to his eyes, meeting his soft gaze. “I’ll be here for a couple more days, then it’s back to work. What about you?”

“Tomorrow…” he begins, slowly losing his train of thought when a little bit of the light goes out in your eyes. Should he kiss you before he leaves in the morning or wait until you’re both back in California with busy schedules and no clue if and when you’ll see each other again? “…I don’t want to leave now due to some unforeseen circumstances,” he laughs, “unfortunately I’ve got some stuff to take care of. But I’ll call you and we can maybe do this again?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll see you around.” He gave you a warm hug on the way out and you watched him walk away to his car, smiling to yourself at the thought of a second date. You couldn’t wait for that phone call.

Two weeks later...he still hasn’t called. You would’ve been surprised had you not prepared yourself for this very scenario. Even with all of this so-called “preparation,” the radio silence from him still stung. Who would’ve thought this would happen? The NFL quarterback is busy with his offseason recovery while the girl he went on one singular date with continues to replay minute by minute interactions they had. No one could’ve seen this coming. The thought of that date feels like so long ago and the fact that you can remember it in vivid detail is a feels a little humiliating. You can’t even look at an Apple Watch without your stomach ending up in knots.

You've closed your office door today, taking a few hours to yourself in between meetings. Earlier in the day you and the rest of the staff had to sit through a Tyr presentation, listening to the representatives of the brand try to sell you their endurance sports drink and leaving you with some samples. Then you had CLIF come in with some new energy chew flavor samples for the guys to try. All of the boxes of products now sat in your office and you really hoped to spend the rest of the day going through the food budget, managing receipts and preparing for your first year presentations for when the new freshman arrived sometime in June. You were glancing back and forth between Whole Foods receipts and Amazon orders when your phone rang. Too busy and in the middle of crunching numbers, you ignored the call. Then it started ringing again. You stop what you're doing, assuming that if someone is calling you twice in a row, it must be urgent. The contact name flashing on the screen has you frozen in time.

It was Justin.

Even though you've been alone in your office for a while, you look around to make sure you're not making this up and this is actually happening. He's calling you. Finally.

"Hello? Who is this?" You can hear him shuffling around, probably walking around in a circle aimlessly just like you are. Despite your best efforts to seem unfazed.

"I deserve that," he cringes. "I'm so sorry for not calling you sooner."

"What—what made you call me now?"

He can tell your voice is softer than when you first answered, and he missed hearing it. "Um...life got a little ahead of me and that's not an excuse. I just—didn't want you to think that I wasn't ever going to call," he pauses, "can I make you dinner? Tonight? If you're free. And we can talk in person."

You look at the door with a sigh, contemplating your entire existence. And then you think...fuck it. "Yeah sure, I'm free tonight. Text me your address and I'll be there around 7?"

"Seven works, I'll see you tonight."

His house is perfectly spotless. There is just no way that a single adult man in his 20s is naturally this organized and clean. Even the cat, who he introduces to you as Nova, a gorgeous Bengal walks around like she owns the place, greeting you briefly (sizing you up) before trotting away without a second glance. Justin walks you into the kitchen where he's in the middle of plating the meal. He just looked good doing normal things, filling glasses of water, opening and closing the fridge, taking off his apron. You really needed to get a grip. "It smells great in here chef, what's on the menu?"

He laughs a little, presenting his dish like he's the star of a Food Network show. "Tonight I've made for you a Traeger filet mignon seasoned with the Traeger seasoning and chimichurri sauce with a side of roasted garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus."

You happily clap for his A+ presentation and he gives you a bow. "Justin, this looks amazing! I can't wait to dig in."

The man leads you to the table, setting the plate down in front of you before grabbing a seat right next to you. "So...let me explain."

Taking a bite of your food, you shake your head. "You really don't have to explain yourself, we went on one date. There's nothing to explain I mean—”

"Yeah there is. I want you to know that I wanted to call sooner, I really did. But I came back and had to meet with doctors to make sure my recovery was on track and then the draft happened and then I had to talk about the future of my contract and I didn't want the craziness of my life to overshadow what we have going on. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you're being put on the backburner."

Unbeknownst to you, he had also been replaying that date...more often that he'd like to admit. Anytime he had a minute to himself he thought about calling, seeing what you're doing. And then there was a meeting, or a draft party or someone needing him to be somewhere. But you were always on his mind and he was glad to now have life slow down a little bit to show you he really did care.

"I get it. Definitely thought you forgot about me there for a second. A few seconds," you correct yourself. "But I knew you were busy and we're here now so you're forgiven. Especially because this steak is incredible."

"Well thank you," he smiles sheepishly.

He begged you not to help him clean up but you insisted. After everything was put away he gave you a tour of the place and then you sat on the couch looking for a movie to watch until the stack of puzzles on the shelf caught your eye.

"You haven't unwrapped this one. Is it new?" You note the plastic wrap lining the box on the shelf meeting you at eye level. The flowers look familiar but you can't exactly remember where you've seen them before.

“There's a lot of flowers at the park we met. Any rhododendron I see now," he nods at the box in your hand, "makes me think of you. So I bought this. Figured we could do it together.” The way he's looking at you when you turn around makes you feel warm and tingly inside.

Something about being with him is addicting. You feel physically drawn to him, this pull, an invisible hold that he has on your heart that soon makes you want to run for the hills. But you know that the second you’re away from him it’ll feel like an important new part of your life has been ripped away. It almost felt like the universe had sent Justin to you as an apology for all men. Even doing something as simple as a puzzle feels like the most romantic thing in the world. All of the pieces are laid out on the table and you tackle the corners first, working from the outside in. You're sitting so close to each other that your arms are touching, reaching and grabbing at the puzzle pieces in sync like a well oiled machine. He pulls you into his lap toward the end when there's a few pieces left, giving you a high five when all 300 pieces are in their rightful place. Your hand is in his once again, like it belongs there, holding you close and steady.

He lets you go momentarily to cup your face, a look of adoration adorning his that makes your chest clench. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for the last 22 days," Justin whispers, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on your lips.

"Then why are you still waiting?" You whisper back, barely able to finish your sentence because he's nipping at your bottom lip, teasing you slightly as he runs his thumb across your jaw. You're a puddle in his hands, his lips on yours kissing you with his heart pounding against his chest like he's never kissed anyone before. The kiss is so simple yet the most intense experience either of you have been a part of and you want more. Both of you are fighting for dominance, a somewhat rough dance of tongues and a little bit of teeth increasing in intensity the longer the kiss lasts. You moan into his mouth, feeling him begin to stand at attention underneath you, deepening the kiss by pulling him in even closer by his hair. The other hand is wrapped around his thigh, squeezing his leg and producing goosebumps across his entire body. He had to take a few moments to recover, slightly out of breath at the kiss that he was convinced had just changed his life. "Was that worth the 22 day wait?" You ask with a laugh, holding his head in your hands.

He nods, still incapable of speech, blowing out a breath of relief when the tightness in his pants continues to go down. You lazily make out throughout the entirety of whatever movie he puts on, more than making up for lost time.

You have to be at the facility early for morning workouts so Justin walks you out to your car, pulling you in for one more kiss. "Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe?"

"I will."

Justin lays in bed that night looking at your goodnight text, already planning the third date in his head because he needs to somehow make it better than tonight was. He doesn't have any ideas yet, he just knows he can't get enough of you.

One year later...

You were back in Eugene at your favorite park, ready to get back to your favorite scenery.

"Are you excited?" You ask Dylan, who barks excitedly as you hold onto his leash. That must mean yes.

Justin laughs beside you, grabbing onto your hand. "You ready?" He gives you a kiss on the forehead before the three of you begin your hike.

[na0koz]

some jinx hcs!!!!! just general ones

toxic!jinx masterlist

- her love languages are physical touch and quality time. since you met you’ve spent more time than not with her and she honestly can’t go more than two days without seeing you. most of the time you hang out with her she’s touching you in some way as well. holding your hand or a strand of your hair, anything.

- loves to sit in your lap all curled up while you hold her head to your chest. it makes her feel safe and loved. she just crawls into your lap whenever she needs a little extra comfort.

- we all know jinx is a genius, and it’s no secret when she makes little trinkets for you. ones that play songs or light up, all completely from scratch. they’re all specific and meaningful to you or your relationship too, like your favourite song.

- it took a lot of convincing for her to meet your family. it wasn’t that she didn’t want to she was just so scared of what they would think of her. if they were going to make you stop seeing her or something. she knows she’s a little strange but she has no idea how she would come across to her girlfriend’s parents.

- i feel like she wouldn’t watch any movies or tv shows. like if you say “have you seen ___?” she’s like “what’s that” every single time. the only shows or movies she’s seen were with you.

- the same kinda goes in reverse for the music jinx listens to. she listens to purely underground artists but not in a pretentious annoying way. that’s just the music she likes and you’ve never heard of any of the bands she likes. she also has never heard of super popular artists like arctic monkeys or whatever.

- prefers when you do her hair. she lets you wash it, brush it and braid it. she says you just ‘do it better’ and she loves the feeling of your fingers in her hair.

- she doesn’t sleep that much, and when she does she really struggles to stay asleep. it’s a little easier when she sleeps with you, especially when you’re holding her but she still struggles. she goes days with basically no sleep and then one day will spend the whole day napping on your shoulder/in your lap.

- knows literally everything about you. she knows where you fell and got the barely visible scar on your calf when you were 11, she knows your favorite pasta recipe exactly, she knows exactly how to make you feel good.

- lovveeeesss when you call her nicknames. like literally anything. simple but she likes baby the most. she calls you stupid ones like ‘sexy’ and ‘hot stuff’ because she thinks romantic ones like the ones you use for her sound weird coming out of her mouth.

- loves bugs. she just lets spiders live in her apartment. she’s one of those people that says you shouldn’t put them outside because they eat the flies or ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them!’

- really good at memorising numbers. examples include your phone number, street/house number, birthday, childhood home address… all coincidentally to do with you! coincidentally.

- tattooed your initial on herself somewhere you wouldn’t see at first. she was hesitant to have sex at first purely because she wasn’t sure how you’d react to seeing the first letter on your name on her v-line.

- has so many clothes???? you don’t know where she gets them from and when you ask her about it, she says it’s because she hadn’t grown since she was 14 so she’s got like several years worth of clothes gathered up.

- doesn’t blink like ever. you could be telling a story and she just stares at you the entire time. when you notice how she hasn’t blinked or looked away from you and start to stutter, she’s genuinely confused when you ask her why she doesn’t blink. “i do blink! just not right now…”

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Can I get 34 from the prompt list with Max Verstappen?

Burn It All Down ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Prompt: 34. “You could put a knife to my throat and I wouldn’t flinch.”

₊ ⊹ mv x reader ★

₊ ⊹ fluff + angst + mafia au ★

masterlist ☾☼

There is the city outside, beyond that high-rise apartment window full of bright lights against the dim darkness that spreads out like living darkness across the room. This air was thick with tension only found in the underworld of crime and clung to your sweaty body as you sat along the edge of the worn, leather couch. The collapse of your father's empire was suffocating to him.

You had always played the part of the dutiful daughter, watching from the shadows as men like Max Verstappen rose to power within your father's rival mafia family. But tonight, everything had changed. Max wasn't just a soldier anymore. He was a betrayal.

You didn't know when it was exactly—that point at which the lines blurred between enemies and something else—you just knew you couldn't deny it anymore. Max was no longer a thorn in your side; he had morphed into a problem.

Now, standing before you, clad in his black leather jacket, looking more ominous than ever, he had become the problem you no longer had the luxury to ignore.

Max entered, his eyes piercing into yours and cold, yet intense, but at the same time, was a flicker of another emotion. Was it maybe regret? Or something deeper still? You didn't know. But one thing did you know for sure- you knew Max Verstappen was there not as a foe, but as the man who made a decision.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, your voice steady, despite the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Max didn't flinch at your words. He only took a step closer, his presence suffocating. "I came to see you. To tell you the truth."

The words felt like a punch to the chest. He was here to betray his family. To betray everything he had fought for all these years.

"You think I'll believe you?" you said, your hand curling into a fist by your side. "You were never supposed to be my enemy, Max. I never wanted this."

Max’s jaw tightened, his lips pressed into a hard line. “I didn’t either. But I’ve spent my entire life being trained to be this monster, to be a weapon for my family. And for what? To destroy yours? To keep killing without ever stopping to think about why?"

He was angry now, his voice low and rough. "I'm done with this life. I'm done being the monster. I'm done being a pawn in a game that will never end."

Your heart raced as he closed the distance between you, and suddenly, he was right there, standing too close, his presence overwhelming. You could feel the heat from his body, the rawness in his words.

"Then why now?" You couldn't help but ask, his decision settling in like lead. "Why come to me now, Max? Do you think I can just forget everything?"

Too much had happened. He had killed too many of your people for you to just forgive him. He hadn't known, but that didn't change the outcome.

He shook his head slowly, eyes softening for the briefest moment. "No. But I cannot keep living this lie. I'm not going to be the one who keeps killing for the sake of power anymore. I'm finished."

You met his eyes, the battle warring inside you. A part of you wanted to believe him. A part of you wanted to trust him, wanted to toss aside the years of hatred, of bloodshed. But the other part of you—the daughter of a mafia boss, trained from birth to distrust men like him—couldn't.

"Max, you think you can just leave them all behind? You think you can walk away without consequences?" Your voice was shaking now, barely contained. "Do you really think you can just walk away from your family?"

Max's face hardened, the pain in his eyes a reflection of the decision he had already made. "I don't care anymore. I would burn it all to the ground for you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his words landed like a strike to the heart.

Max stepped closer, but before you could process it, the door slammed open, and three figures appeared in the doorway. Daniel, Lando, and Charles— Max's mafia brothers, who had somehow followed him to her house, to her room.

Daniel, always the level-headed one, was the first to speak, his voice stern. "Max, what the hell are you doing? You can't just walk away. You can't—"

"Shut up, Daniel," Max interrupted, his voice filled with fury. "You don't understand."

Lando crossed his arms, his expression part incredulity, part anger. "You're really throwing everything away for her? For her?" he spat, nodding toward you. "You're making a huge mistake, Max. You can't just betray the family like this."

Charles, normally calm, looked between you and Max, his eyes narrowed. "This isn't just about her, Max. This is about everything we've worked for. You know what they'll do to you if you walk away. You're putting us all in danger."

Max didn't flinch. He didn't back down. His gaze was unyielding as he turned to face them, his voice steely. "I've already made my decision.". I don't care if they come after me. I don't care if they kill me. I'm doing this for her." He pointed to you, his finger trembling slightly. "I'm doing this because I can't live in this bloodbath anymore. And if I have to choose between them and her, I choose her."

The room fell silent.

You could feel the weight of Max's words—words that could tear apart everything he had worked for, everything he had fought to protect. Your heart ached for him. And yet, despite the betrayal, you felt something else—something far deeper. Hope.

"Max, you can't be serious," you whispered, voice breaking. "You know what will happen if you do this. I know what'll happen. My family could kill you. Your own family would kill you. Hell, for all you know, I'm a ploy and I'm going to kill you at your most vulnerable state!"

A subtle softening crept up Max's features as the words fell, his tone one of sincerity, "You could put a knife to my throat, and I wouldn't flinch," Those last words slammed home, washing into you like a tsunami wave. You think you saw, suddenly in his eyes, a better reason than just love-for it was also freedom-to be able to give and take from one another end.

"You really would? You really would leave everything that you've been trained for, that you've worked for, that you've been loyal to, for me?" you asked, your voice breaking and trembling as you took a step closer to him.

Max's jaw softened, a little something in his gaze. "I already did."

For a long moment, the world outside seemed to fade, and the only thing in your existence was the both of you within that room. Your enemies were still there, in the doorway, but Max was resolute about what he was saying, his decision solid and concrete: he had already chosen.

And so had you.

"I can't promise you an easy life, Max," you said softly. "But if you're really willing to risk it all for me… then I'll fight for you."

Max stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours. "Then let's burn it all down together."

The room was silent and, for the first time in what felt like forever, you realized that no matter how hard the world fought against you, nothing could break the two of you apart.

The days that followed were chaos. Max's betrayal was not left unexposed, and the repercussions were brutal. But with you by his side, the two of you fought back against the storm, tearing down the remnants of both mafia families. It wasn't easy. There were losses, close calls, and moments where it felt like the world was trying to pull you both apart.

But you stayed. Together.

Max Verstappen had burned his past to the ground, but in doing so, he had built something new. With you. And in the end, it was that bond—the one forged in blood and fire—that kept you both unbreakable.

✧˚ ʚɞ˚ ༘✿ ♡ ⋆｡˚

i tried something different this time! let me know if y'all like it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[eunandonly]

exhibit a : you

୨୧ ; you and riki, on a date solving murder cases gone cold? that’s going to end in another murder!

pairing! criminaljusticemajor!riki x criminologymajor!reader | wc. 0.9k | warnings: atempted humour, incorrect law and forensic terms, homicide mentions EN-

🖇️ : riki version finally!! sorry it took so long ㅜㅜ

riki has been majoring in criminal justice for some time now

you two never really talked properly, most of your conversations were trivial things like “can i borrow your pencil” or “when does this lecture end”

you never expected your first proper conversation with him to be an argument about who can solve a cold case faster

"of course i can solve it the fastest, what are you talking about, y/n?"

that just pisses you off bc who does he think he is

let's be so fr why is he so full of himself?

you had just been listening in on his conversation about a case study and you couldn't help but jump in

and riki had the audacity to mock you

"you're really going to stick with that theory? it's clearly wrong- come on, even i know that."

you were ready to bash his pretty little face in

bc your theory about the jane doe case is definitely right dafuq.

the time window, the evidence, the interview transcripts... it all fits your narrative

and the more you and riki discuss the case, the more convinced riki is that your theory MIGHT be right

of course he won't admit that though

but when you start talking about livor mortis he can't help but stare at you with hearts in his eyes

like DAMN he loves girls who recite shit like that as if it's the alphabet

one day you're just packing up your bag to leave after a lecture when riki comes over

"hey, you wanna study with me this evening? get some work done on the cold case project?"

riki's tryna be all nonchalant but he's screaming inside PLEASE SAY YES PLEASE SAY YES

you say yes.

you two meet at riki’s dorm room and tbh it’s kinda messy in there

i imagine criminology major riki to have lots of books regarding criminal law and stuff lying about everywhere and js have a lot of stuff in general

like the only place that’s not covered by some book or paper of some sort is the bed because he needs sleep (but he stays up till 5am anyways)

he probably listens to true crime podcasts all night

riki and you start get into your work right away but both of you keep getting carried away bickering

don’t worry it’s just playful banter ☺️

“i said stfu his rigor mortis had only started on the head and neck of the body but livor mortis had fully set- that's just says that someone manipulated the factors”

you’re just sitting on his bed pointing at the case file and trying to prove your point

riki’s smart but dense at the same time

you both have some genuinely concerning conversation starters

“oh yeah so this girl apparently got burned alive on a wooden pole outside a school campus!”

"do you think the car air conditioner will be cold enough to use during the winter when trying to onset rigor mortis of the body?"

"if someone dug up a already dead body murdered by someone else and re-buried it to hide it from the officials, what charges would they get?"

you guys say it so casually too like you're discussing what to have for dinner

you always thought riki was cool and had a little liking for him but working on a project together and really made the feelings more intense

sure he’s an annoying little menace who’s way too stubborn

but he’s smart. and he’s pretty.

you really are going to bash his pretty face in one day.

even when you two are not working on the project you two meet up in each other’s dorm rooms to play games, talk, etc

like you two make plans to meet up at your room to play fortnite (you carry his ass through the game)

oh but he won't admit that

i feel like riki would prefer staying in for these types of activities

you know those little packages of fake crime cases you can buy to investigate and stuff?

that's what you and riki do on friday nights except it's not a fake crime

it's all real

you guys research serial murder cases, disappearances that went cold YEARS ago, heists... the list just goes on and on

yeah but these little dates are probably going to become a homicide case itself

no bc why is riki not shutting up his narrative is so wrong

he ends up confessing to you at the end of the month after both of you submitted the most beautiful thesis on a double homicide case

you got lots of help from riki on the criminal law aspects of it and you helped him with the profiling and forensics part

"no y/n, he would be charged for perverting the course of justice, what are you on?"

“riki, stop being such a dumbass. the offender and the victim had no connection whatsoever.”

riki was so scared to confess to you, he was overthinking for days straight instead of sleeping at night

so for your first date you just have him come over to your dorm and make a murder board with you

not exactly a common first date activity but both of you have fun with red string and evidence so it’s fine

you and riki later on create your own true crime podcast except you're not just talking about the crime

you're both solving them (agggtm anyone?)

i'd like to think that you and riki's podcasts went viral and everyone gushing over you two

you and riki just make a really cute couple

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map Post-Script

After two months of so, my little writing experiment At Sea Without a Map has come to an end. And because I'm vain, I not only felt compelled to share it, but to talk about it in depth after the fact, so here we are. This is going to be long, though, so I'm not only going to break it into sections, but put it all under the cut for the sake of your dashboard. So go ahead and dive into the depths of the Sea of Monsters with me one more time!

Part 1: Never Stop Blowing Up

The writing process of Wizard School Mysteries Book 3 was really strained - not because of the book itself, mind you. When I was actually able to work on it, Book 3 came together really well - I think it required the least substantial rewrites of any my novels thus far. It's just that real life was kind of beating the shit out of me while I was trying to get it done - or maybe the better metaphor was that it was just slowly but steadily draining me of energy all the time. I'm honestly surprised I got the book out in roughly the same amount of time as the first two - by the way life had been treating me, it should have taken longer.

But when I got done with it I was accutely aware of how tired I was. I still had the creative drive, but fuck I needed something simple as a palette cleanser - something easy, and more importantly, something that was allowed to be bad. I needed something creative to do that was surplus to requirements and fully within its rights to suck ass so long as I had fun making it.

Around this time, I decided to rewatch Dimension 20's Never Stop Blowing Up. Brief explanation of what that is: Dimension 20 is an actual play show, i.e. a recording of people playing D&D and other TTRPGs. I'd say its reputation is built on the contrast of its main DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who makes these meticulously crafted campaign plans, and his chaotic band of improv comedian players who promptly derail those plans spectacularly. Like, a good deal of the show's humor comes from Emily Ashford or Ally Beardsly doing something so off-the-wall that it shatters whatever the scene was going to be and creates a far more absurd and zany spectacle in its place. Which is why Never Stop Blowing Up is pretty notable, because it's the one campaign where Brennan himself is the agent of chaos, fully unleashing his own brand of madness that the players struggle to keep up with. And fuck does he seem to have fun with it.

Of course, all of the analysis above is purely from the outside looking in - it's likely that a lot of the "chaos" is played up for the audience. But still... there is something to the idea of a person who's been working on meticulously structured stories letting loose and just doing something extremely stupid.

So I decided to give myself a Never Stop Blowing Up moment - a short story that would be simple by design, with no standards to live up to or goal beyond "have fun telling a silly little story." I then came up with a few key criteria:

It can't be set in the Midgaheim/ATOM universe. I don't want the burden of figuring out where this story would fit among others.

It's gotta be a romance. People who've read my books might have picked up on the fact that I like to write about people falling in love, for the same reason I like to write about fire-breathing reptiles and friendly monsters (i.e. I use writing to indulge in things I'll never experience in real life). I've only used romance as subplots in my fiction before, and tend to feel a bit guilty if I focus on it too long - like I'm being self indulgent. Well, this is all about self indulgence, so the romance should be front and center.

It's gotta be SIMPLE, episodic even. Not complex plotting required.

I almost chose my xenomorph romance for this, but I had developed its outline to the point where it would be too complex to fit. I then considered a sort of superhero story that could be pitched as "what if Bringing Up Baby but Katherine Hepburn's character is a Harley Quinn-esque supervillain and Cary Grant's character gets turned into some sort of horrifying genetic mutant in the first ten minutes." That one hit a weird roadblock when I got to the character brainstorming phase (the first phase of any writing project I do) - I was trying to figure out what the mad scientist who turns out Cary Grant-figure into a mutant would be named, came up with the name "Dr. Skullfuck," immediately realized that having a character named "Dr. Skullfuck" is a Mark Millar-ass writing move that I could not allow myself to do, but then couldn't stop thinking of the name "Dr. Skullfuck" and giggling, which just brought all thinking to a grinding halt on that project.

(I'll still probably do it someday, though - just, you know, without Dr. Skullfuck)

Inspiration struck again, though. I'd been getting into Epic: The Musical, a musical retelling of The Odyssey, and it put me in the mood for a sea monster story. But, more than that, it got me thinking about one particular archetype from sea monster stories - but that brings us to the next part of this Post Script...

Part 2: It Was Always About Calibani

Ok, so, one of the big changes Epic: The Musical made involved Odysseus's encounter with the sirens, and before you read more of my rambling, I'd like you to watch two animatics for the two songs in question here:

A summary: one of the sirens takes the form of Odysseus's wife to try and tempt him into getting in the water, Odysseus tricks her into giving him directions, captures her and the rest of her kind, and proceeds to have his men slaughter them horribly. In the OG story the sirens don't die - nor does their song involve imitating a man's wife, for that matter, it's just a really pretty song.

This is done for an important narrative purpose - Epic: The Musical is focused on analyzing the moral ambiguity of Odysseus, and how it is constantly challenged by the impossible choices he is forced to make in his attempt to get home. At this point in the musical, Odysseus has decided to stop trying to be a compassionate man, shirking all mercy in favor of utter ruthless pursuit of his goals. These two songs are meant to be unsettling as hell - this is the beginning of a series of heartless choices by both Odysseus and his men that will culminate in the mutiny and complete annihilation of Odysseus's crew, as well as Odysseus himself being so hopelessly stranded that nothing short of divine intervention will save him.

I bring this up because when I first heard these two songs - specifically while watching these two animatics - it, like... it devastated me. I was so horrified and sad, so shaken by it. And part of it was for the reasons outlined above, but admittedly that wasn't the gut reaction I had. No, my immediate reaction was, and I quoute my own broken brain verbatim here: "You can't kill the sirens! They're not for killing, they're for loving!"

...now, those of you who know me are probably not surprised by this very stupid sentiment coming from me. One of my more popular posts is just me talking about how down bad I would be for various folkloric monsters whose whole shtick is "looks like a pretty lady but Watch Out." But as a person filled with immense self loathing and doubt, my brain immediately looked at that very stupid sentiment I expressed and said, "Wait, no, that's fucking dumb, I'm fucking dumb. The sirens are remorseless murderers. These sirens in particular preyed upon a man's love for his wife, who he has not seen in twelve years, to convince him to let them kill him. They are, by all standards of morality, Very Fucking Evil, and if they were not women you would not feel bad about them getting killed."

And as my brain argued with itself over this topic, I got to thinking about the various monstrous/othered sea women of The Odyssey - not just the sirens, but the witch Circe, the nymph Calypso, the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. And I thought about the others of their kind in other myths and folktales - selkies, mermaids, etc.

There's an archetype of sea monster that focuses entirely on one specific anxiety sailors are prone to, namely the fact that (for a good deal of human history) being on a boat meant spending a lot of time away from women. The horror of this monster is how it uses that desire for female company to tempt people into danger - like a mirage, it leads you to expose yourself to danger in pursuit of an illusory comfort.

But, unlike real world mirages, these monstrous sea women DO exist in their stories. More than that, they're often, like, sad and lonely. Their narrative purpose is just to be a temptation, but that doesn't change the fact that they do have lives of their own in these worlds. And, softie that I am, I can't help feeling sad for them, especially the ones who actually seem to want the same companionship the sailors they tempt want. Sailors don't stay with their Circes, they don't marry their Calypsos. The sirens live on a barren rock, alone, Scylla is left to wallow in misery at her monstrous form, and the selkie always has to leave for fear of being trapped by a person who won't love her on her terms.

I realized I had my hook for this simple, easy, silly little sea monster romance story: I was going to give a sea woman the happy ending she'd never get from anyone else.

Sailor may be the protagonist, but make no mistake: At Sea Without a Map was always, always, ALWAYS about Calibani.

The goal with Calibani was simple: I was going to set up a fairly standard Monstrous Sea Woman, but where other stories would let her be in one episode of the travel narrative and move on, this one would stick around. She'd be an unambiguous predator of human beings - an open and admitted maneater - but she would have no true malice to her. She, like all predators, eats what she can get to survive, and it just so happens that she's adapted to eat humans. And the story would pose the same question to the reader that my brain posed to me during Different Beast: is there any way you could make a siren-style sea monster sympathetic? Can you make a normal person who doesn't have my particular brain rot look at a maneating siren and think, "You're not supposed to kill her, you're supposed to love her!"

One of the few unavoidable plot points of At Sea Without a Map was that Calibani and Sailor's relationship would become romantic. What kind of romance it was could have varied substantially - it could have been one-sided, it could have been toxic, it could have been far more tragic OR far more comedic. But it was always, always going to be a romance of some sort - the goal of this experiment was to make you, the reader, love Calibani. All else was icing on the cake.

I decided to base Calibani's personality on Miranda from The Tempest - i.e. a sweet girl who is both wordly and naive, who understands the strange setting of our "lost at sea" story far better than the audience viewpoint character does, but views the mundane world of the audience viewpoint character with wonder and naiveté. In fact I almost named her Miranda outright... except I already had a character in the setting I chose for this story who had that name, and as an allusion to the same Shakespearean character no less. So I settled on naming her after Miranda's adoptive sibling (of sorts), Caliban - more fitting in some ways, as Caliban is a fish-human hybrid who is arguable more native to the magic island in The Tempest than Miranda herself.

(Calibani isn't the only Tempest name homage, either - her mother, Sycorax, takes her name directly from Caliban's unseen but oft-spoken of witch mother. Dr. Antonia Warefore takes her first name from Antonio, one of the human villains in The Tempest who hopes to use being lost at sea as a way to perform a coup. And the mothman Iriel takes her name from Ariel, the wind spirit in The Tempest who aids the wizard Prospero in controlling the magic island. If Sailor has a "real" name, it's probably either Ferdinand or Miranda, the two lovers who manage to blend civilization and the wilderness together with their romance.)

Visually, I wanted Calibani to not be any common archetype of sea monster woman, but rather something that evokes the popular images while still being her own thing. She's not a mermaid or a siren or a selkie - she's basically "what if a sea serpent was also a girl." In-universe, she's chubby because she, like all marine megafauna, needs blubber to survive. Out-of-universe, she's chubby because I've found that routinely drawing cute chubby girls is good for my mental health.

Part 3: CYOA

Now, while we live in a post-Muncher society where shame and cringe are emotions only the cowardly should experience, I am nonetheless Very Catholic about expressing my own feelings of, like, liking girls and shit. I cannot help feeling guilty when publicly expressing adoration of women without, like, an excuse - it's gotta be a joke or something, you know? I can't be genuine about it, or else Jesus will beat me with a cane for disrespecting women with my lecherous gaze.

But luckily I've cultivated a loyal audience of fellow monsterfuckers, which meant I had an excuse lined up: if I made this a choose your own adventure type deal, a story with audience participation, then you all would be my accomplices. And Jesus can't cane all of us! He doesn't have enough hands! I found a loophole bigger than his stigmata!

Plus I love collaborative story-telling - there's a thrill in not having total control of where the narrative is going. As Brennan Lee Mulligan must know, there's a joy in having to deal with the chaos thrown your way by letting others grab the figurative ball, even if just for a moment.

Part 4: Offbeat Melody

Since I did not want to set this story in Midgaheim, I decided to steer myself away from a vaguely medieval setting altogether. But I also didn't want to limit myself with the need for "realism" that putting it in a normal sea would require, and making a new setting whole cloth would start pushing this project into "not easy" territory.

Luckily, I had a setting lying around that I hadn't played with in a while, which just so happened to have a location that was PERFECT for the sort of Never Stop Blowing Up style madness I was aiming for. For a few years I ran a Monster of the Week TTRPG campaign called Offbeat Melody, and one of its core setting elements was taking the goblin universe hypothesis in paranormal science (yeah it's a real hypothesis) to an illogical extreme. We had specifically seen glimpses of the Sea of Monsters in Offbeat Melody, i.e. the parallel universe where monsters like Nessie, Ogopogo, Champ, and the like all hail from. Well, why not have a whole story set there? It's literally a universe devoted solely to creating sea monsters - what better place to strand our modern Odysseus?

Offbeat Melody was always sort of a Never Stop Blowing Up project, or at least NSBU adjacent. Some of my most unhinged story-telling moments are in that campaign - you could make a supercut of just the "commercial breaks" in the various sessions and it'd basically be an I Think You Should Leave episode. Taking one obscure corner of its multiversal world and exploring it in detail was perfect for this project.

Part 5: Monster by Monster

With our main romance as sorted out as could be for a CYOA story, it was time to figure out the "episodes" of this sea voyage. I settled on there being ten to roughly align with The Odyssey - just in terms of number, mind you, not in a one-to-one comparison. The first was, obviously, Calibani herself, which left nine more slots for me to fill with monsters. Let's go through them together in brief:

Tree Storks - any lost at sea story eventually has to get its protagonist into an island at some point, but this immediately begs the question, "Why don't they just stay on the island where it's safe?" The answer to that question has to be, "it's not safe there, actually." The Odyssey does this quickly and cleverly with a one two punch: the first island seems safe until you realize the food on it brainwashes you into forgetting everything except your desire to eat it, and the second island is full of delicious sheep but also giants who will eat you just as easily as they eat the sheep. When other islands show up in the story later, you immediately regard them with suspicion, because you don't know HOW they're going to be fucked up, but they definitely will be. My goal with the second episode was to establish the same sort of danger - that land is NOT safe, that islands WILL be fucked up and dangerous in ways you might not expect.

I also wanted to establish that this is not just a sea of monsters, but a very WEIRD sea of WEIRD monsters. It couldn't be any old monster on this island - it had to be one that was unique, unexpected, and maybe just a bit silly while still being menacing.

I've always felt that there's a lot of un-mined horror potential in storks, cranes, and herons - any bird with a long neck and spear-like beak it uses to stab smaller creatures from above. Just imagine yourself in a frog's place in the world - tiny, going about your business, when suddenly something shoots down at you from above and impales you before you even feel the shadow fall over your face. Or perhaps you did see the shadow - some of these birds spread their wings to create shade specifically to attract fish, and then spear the poor little bastards.

Well, what do people often look to islands for when out at sea? Shade - the shade of a palm tree. And palm fronds kinda resemble feathers, don't they? Wouldn't it be both ludicrous and terrifying is there was a stork big enough to mimic a palm tree - and wouldn't that be a DEVIOUS trap for a sun-drenched sailor to fall for? So the Tree Storks were born.

The Globster - I made a list of sea monster archetypes in the early planning for this project, and one I wanted to include was a kraken, i.e. some sort of tentacled sea beast. But I didn't want to do JUST a big squid or octopus, or even a riff on them. I wanted to take the idea of "big sea monster with lots of tentacles" into a stranger direction.

Since the Sea of Monsters is explicitly the home universe of lake and sea monster cryptids, I thought it might be fun if ASWaM's kraken equivalent was a globster - just a big ball of rotten meat. I love drawing monstrous faces, so I decided it'd just be, like, MADE of hideous rotten faces, all melting and congealing together, with its tentacles doubling as the tongues of its many mouths. A perfectly wretched image that, like the Tree Storks, would do well to establish how Fucked things could get in this setting. Plus similar monsters had appeared in Offbeat Melody, which would make for a fun sense of familiarity for the, like, five or so readers of mine who had listened to that campaign before.

Captain Peter & the Dolphin - Another thing I did in the early planning stages of this project was make a list of the different sea voyage stories I know and love, the most contentious of which is The Life of Pi. That's a story that I love on a literal level but kind of hate on a figurative level - its whole theme/message is that doubt is the worst thing you can have, that if you don't commit to believing something with zealous conviction you are a coward. As a person who thinks doubt is valid, that "I don't know" is sometimes the ONLY truly valid answer to a question, I have issues with that message.

But I can't help loving the beautifully ludicrous idea of a non-anthropomorphic tiger sailing the ocean on a big Odyssey of its own. Like, if that story didn't actively hate me for being agnostic, it would be one of my favorites.

So I decided to, you know, just steal the idea of a tiger Odysseus. The tiger in The Life of Pi is named Richard Parker. Richard Parker also happens to be the name of Peter Parker's dad. Hence we get Captain Peter - the figurative son of Richard Parker, if you will. And to ratchet up the absurdity of a tiger Odysseus, I made him a pirate and the sole sailor of his voyage. Somehow, this tiger has manned a boat on his own.

Captain Peter was intended to be the hero of another story - a sign for the readers that it IS possible for a stranded person (or, in this case, tiger) to survive out here. To that end, he had to rescue our heroes from another threat, but not one that would be interesting enough to take the focus off of the tiger pirate. Originally I planned for that threat to just be a big shark, but I ended up liking my shark design too much to put it in a role that small, so I quickly designed a nasty dolphin for the role instead. I think that worked out well, honestly.

Dr. Neptune - Episodes 5 and 6 were the mid-point of this journey, so I wanted the two monsters of those to escalate things significantly. I figured episode 5 was probably a good place to FINALLY give some meaningful exposition on what was going on, and there are a lot of stories about mad scientists doing weird shit on islands in my big list of sea voyage stories I love. So we get Dr. Neptune, a classical brain-in-a-jar mad scientist who's affable enough to give more-or-less accurate exposition but loony enough to be a problem. This also felt like a good spot to remind the reader that Calibani is not just a girl with a tail but rather a Sea Monster herself, and one that we'd been making stronger by allying with.

With his human-but-not-quite nature and cyclops eye, Dr. Neptune could sort of be seen as the Polyphemus of this story, couldn't he?

The Crocodisle - One of the sea monster archetypes on my list was "the island that's actually a sleeping monster," of which there are many in mythology and folklore. My favorite is the Jasconius from the voyage of St. Brendan, mainly because it's more or less benign and actually comes back to help St. Brendan and his crew at the end of the story. I always love when I can find an old story with a friendly monster in it.

When thinking of my own spin on the island monster concept, I remembered the only Magic the Gathering card I had as a kid, which I still have and love to this day: The Sandbar Crocodile. This card already inspired Crocogon's color scheme in The Atomic time of Monsters, but I felt I could go to that well again one more time, and so made a crocodile that wasn't just a sandbar, but a whole damn island to itself. And, like Jasconius, it turns out he's pretty chill.

I did not think of the pun name "Crocodisle" until I was actually writing the chapter in question.

The Femdom Mermaids - These three were a late addition to the roster. When I had Calibani bring up mermaids early in the story, I realized as soon as I wrote her rant about them that we'd HAVE to meet some later on in the story.

The readers had significantly shaped Calibani and Sailor's romance by this point, and I decided that it could be useful to have a chapter that was devoted to showing definitively how these two were good for each other. I thought the mermaids could provide a good contrast: have them act out a seemingly more benign take on the monstrous sea women trope (they abduct our hero to protect and care for them!) only for it to quickly feel MORE deranged than Calibani's comparatively simple desire just to eat him.

The spirit of Calibani's rant about mermaids was taken from weird* girls I knew in high school complaining about cheerleaders, so I wanted the mermaids to look like the sea monster equivalent of popular kids to Calibani's chubby weird girl. Two of them got the names of famous beauties - Helyne = Helen of Troy, Clio = Cleopatra.

(*when I say "weird" I mean it in a complimentary and affectionate sense)

Bob, meanwhile, kinda... rebelled, I guess? Before I had names for them, I listed "bob" by her as just, like, a descriptor for her hair cut, but then I liked it as her name, and once she was named Bob she became more than just a mean popular girl. She was a weirdo too, the little punching bag of the two mean popular girls who did their dirty work and smiled through their abuse because hey, at least they included her. It gave the trio an easily defined dynamic, helped make two of the three more visibly nasty, and gave us comic relief in an arc that could very well have gotten too uncomfortable otherwise.

And I guess it worked - readers REALLY loved Bob, and were very vocal about it, and I realized mid-arc that I had accidentally made her too likable to just leave in this arc. So Bob got to be rescued from her awful friend group thanks to readers like YOU.

Lord Ironteeth - yeah, this was the shark that was too cool to be a minor threat. When I drew his noggin, I realized he would need a chapter of his own, one with gravitas. I decided he'd specifically be the threshold guardian -once we beat him, we'd know for sure how to get home, even if there were a few more threats in store.

Spindle Inc and Sycorax - when I was a kid I used to have this recurring nightmare about being on some sort of underwater sea station that had this huge sea serpent trapped inside it. I'd look at the sea serpent from a window within the station and see it coiling in its tank, only for it to look at me with fury. In that glance I would suddenly realize two things with absolute clarity: first, it was going to break free and kill everyone, and second, we deserved that destruction for what we had done to it. The terror of the dream was less that the sea serpent was going to break free, and more the guilt of knowing that all the mayhem that was about to unfold was our fault to begin with.

I thought that would be fun to homage with the penultimate chapter of this story. OBVIOUSLY the sea serpent was Calibani's mom, obviously the trauma of its capture was why Calibani grew into a predator that specializes in hunting humans, obviously we would have to free the sea serpent despite that running counter to Sailor's goal of getting home. Easy, easy, easy plot point to include.

Spindle, Inc. is the primary antagonistic force in Offbeat Melody, so they easily slotted into the role of the arrogant humans who captured this monster for nefarious and selfish motives. They could tie a lot of other plot threads together too - Dr. Neptune was a scientist who worked for them as a contractor only to get screwed over (i.e. they stranded him in the Sea of Monsters, expecting him to die, and then used his research to make their own base of operations in it), we'd learn of him through a spindle briefcase left behind by some unfortunate rogue agent who got eaten by the Globster while he was trying to escape, hell they could even be one of the possible origins of Sailor themself (more on that later). Very useful villains, Spindle.

The Abyssal Mother - I knew the last sea monster would need a lot of punch to it. I briefly considered just a big whale - the Moby Dick to Spindle's corporate Ahab - but it felt underwhelming after all that came before. So I went for arguably the most dramatic possible sea monster, a full on Cthulhu-style elder god. If you're a frequent follower of this blog, you might know I have particularly high standards for Eldritch Abominations, so I realized this was going to be a pretty big challenge for me to live up to, and decided to keep the cthulhu in question reserved to the last few entries as a result - the less it appears, the less it has to live up to.

I realized I had a good angle when my experiments with the Cthulhu "squid for a head" concept ended up having a face framed in shadow - you know, the same visual that our protagonist has in most appearances. That provided some very juicy parallels between the two that made this final monster feel particularly noteworthy to me, ones that I'll leave you to ponder, since they tie into...

Part 6: Themes

I did not set out to have a theme in this story. I just wanted to make a sailor and a sea monster kiss. That was my only goal.

But I really don't begin with theme in ANY of my writing. I figure out topics I want to address, but for all my novels I feel like the themes didn't start coming together until about halfway through the first draft, when enough of the elements of the story had been set down and interacted with each other enough for me to realize what I was saying with them. A huge part of my second and third drafts for my novels have focused on making the themes of my stories more concrete and unified.

Well, ASWaM is very much a first draft of a story, but it's a simple enough story that I think the theme found itself pretty well despite lacking subsequent drafts to refine it.

ASWaM is about doubt and direction. It's about being adrift in a world that is in many ways hostile by nature, about not feeling like you're where you're supposed to be or even WHO you're supposed to be, and about setting off aimlessly in the hope that maybe you'll find your way to that mythical land of "what my life is supposed to be."

When I began the story, Sailor had amnesia and wore clothes that obscured their identity as a way to make it easier for anyone to step into Sailor's role. Sailor had to feel like You, the Reader, and so we don't know their name, their gender, their eye color, their hair color, even their skin color (note that their hands are always wearing gloves, and their face is always in shadow).

But it also meant Sailor is, well, undefined, at least at the start of the story. Sailor doesn't know who they are, what they are, how they came to be. Sailor feels distinctly that they should be Something Else, should be Somewhere Else, should be Someone Else, should not be who/what/where they are. Sailor is plagued by doubt, by a need to go in a different direction, by a need to be other than they are.

This initially contrasts with Calibani, who begins the story very confident that she is doing exactly what she was designed to be doing and acting exactly like she should be. As they interact, they begin to shift each other in opposite directions - Calibani questions her existence and nature, sometimes to a self destructive degree, and Sailor begins to find something about who and where they are that they like. They find a healthy middle ground together - doubtful enough to want to be better people, but with love for themselves that allows them to not feel the need to up-heave their lives entirely.

I knew at the start that I would build an expectation for there to be some answer to the question of who Sailor is and where they came from, because those are the questions that begin the whole narrative. I brainstormed a number of answers to those questions, but once I got a few chapters into writing the story and saw this theme of doubt developing, I realized I couldn't answer them. From a thematic standpoint, the doubt HAD to remain. So I gave hints to possible answers, bits of evidence to support the possibility of them being true, but never planted a smoking gun that answered it for sure.

Sailor can't know the answer because NONE of us know the answer. Outside of blind Life of Pi style faith, you cannot know for sure that you are living the life you're supposed to live. All you can do is figure out whether you're happy with the life you've got, or if you need a change. Sailor will never know who they are supposed to be, but they did learn who they are, and they love that person now.

For those curious, the possible Sailor origins are:

Occam's Razor: they're exactly what Dr. Neptune theorized, i.e. a human who got stranded in the Bermuda Triangle (or the Devil's Triangle or any other number of paranormal triangles) and fell into the Sea of Monsters. The trauma of that experience gave them amnesia. It's just brain damage and bad luck.

A Spindle Experiment: Dr. Warefore mentions that Spindle has been trying to find a way to make a human who can evolve like the denizens of the Sea of Monsters. Sailor may well be an attempt to do just that, perhaps one they wrote off as a failure and abandoned (they do that a lot)

A Deep One: Sailor is the offspring of one of the denizens of the Sea of Monsters (most likely the Abyssal Mother herself) who has somehow been tricked into believing they are human, to the point where they seem to be human to everyone else, even other monsters. Maybe a human summoned a sea monster to breed with on earth, and Sailor ended up being subconsciously drawn back to the Sea by their blood. Maybe Sailor never actually lived on earth at all, but was only made to THINK they had as part of the transformation into a human.

The Platonic Ideal of a Sailor: the Sea of Monsters is full of archetypal concepts, and arguably a sailor trying to find their way home is just as archetypal as any sea serpent, mermaid, or kraken. Our only proof that humans aren't native to the Sea of Monsters is Dr. Neptune, and he's not as reliable an expert as he claims to be.

This theme of doubt and direction also made the compass more important to the narrative than a simply mechanic for audience participation - a compass, after all, gives direction, and the feeling that Sailor is not where they're supposed to be, that they need to head in a different direction, is ultimately the catalyst of the plot. The compass is, in many ways, the antagonist of the story - the force that keeps Sailor from accepting themself. I realized this a little after I started making the different directions have personalities - initially they just represented broad concepts (North = follow conventional wisdom ala the North Star, South = preserve your short-term self interest at all costs, East = act with curiosity and be willing to take calculated risks, and West = throw caution to the wind and do anything that seems novel and exciting), but over time they became little characters themselves.

Since it was our thematic antagonist, I decided to pepper in some ideas about what the compass might be in-universe - and, in a move that would no doubt frustrate the compass, we also don't know for sure which of those is "correct." Is the compass a poltergeist, some amalgamation of dead sailors who try to steer other lost souls home? Is it a malign entity that leeches off of those desperate enough to seek its aid, living through them while pretending to aid them? Is it a device Spindle made to lure sailors to their clutches, OR to guide their experiments in human/monster hybrids? Was it a cursed item that forced a sea monster to assume a human shape? Who can say - the compass sure can't, it can only tell you a direction to go in.

Part 7: Q&A

Since this was an interactive story, I felt it was only fitting to add one last interactive element to this post-script write up, and some of your happily obliged me by sending in questions.

When I noticed how fast readers were falling for Calibani, I figured there was a good chance we'd end up staying in the Sea of Monsters. By chapter 7, I figured it was more or less a given, and by the end of the Lord Ironteeth encounter I was almost 100% sure Sailor would remain at sea. There was always a chance, though - while a look at the polls shows that the audience got more and more on the same page towards the end, there were always dissenting voices, and the desire to get an answer to the question of Who Sailor Was remained strong, as a number of people kept trying to find angles where they could get that AND stay with Calibani.

I was surprised early on by how easily the audience fell in love with Calibani, to the point where I made a few posts commenting on it. I mean, I shouldn't have been - as I said earlier, I have cultivated an audience of fellow monsterfuckers on here, and I know at least a few of them saw my bait and knew they could get me to be freaky in a way we found mutually agreeable (thank you all again for helping me escape being caned by Jesus for being horny).

Like, we REPEATEDLY ignored developing the plot in the Tree Storks chapter for several days just to spend more time with Calibani - something that I enjoyed immensely (this whole thing was an excuse for me to write and draw a cute chubby sea monster girl as much as possible aftter all) but also knew as a storyteller was not what most would consider a good story call. I like how it turned out, but it defied conventional narrative wisdom, you know? I was surprised.

On the other side of the coin, I was also surprised by how the audience NEVER chose an option that was humorously disastrous. I gave plenty of them, and, like, generally in collaborative storytelling there will be at least one moment where your collaborators decide to do the really, REALLY stupid thing that makes everything spiral out of control really quickly. I figured at least once the audience would choose the troll response, but no, you guys worked hard to keep Sailor and Calibani alive. You refused to let them hurt each other, refused to let them throw themselves into danger, refused to imperil them for your own chuckles. It was very sweet and unexpected.

I say "you refused" but to be fair it's not like NO ONE voted for the troll options - they generally got a handful of votes, just one that was beaten by a landslide of more reasonable options. Hopefully those of you who voted for the troll options enjoyed Bob throwing you a bone by disintegrating Dr. Warefore - that was my consolation prize to you.

Yes. I knew at the beginning that there would be two endings for this story: either Sailor leaves the Sea and goes home, or Sailor stays there forever. Or, you know, Sailor dies as a result of you guys choosing several stupid options in a row, but as stated above you guys avoided those scenarios pretty decisively.

Had Sailor gone home, the following would have occurred: first, they would forget everything that happened in the Sea of Monsters. Second, they would wake up in a hospital, having been found in the Atlantic Ocean by a human-recovery charity run by... oh, isn't that funny, some tech company named Spindle Inc! Spindle would foot the medical bills and even offer Sailor a job, but Sailor would decline because even now they're still not sure what Spindle even does. Sailor would go back to their life and find it familiar and utterly mundane, but not particularly happy. Their father died when they were 18, their mother was never in the picture, they have no siblings. They worked an office job and were sort of a nonentity - that position has long since been filled, but Sailor gets a new job and lives out much the same life: simple, mundane, dreary. Every now and then they get a pang of desire to leave, to go to sea, but they push it out of mind. They never even see the ocean again as long as they live.

Sailor would have gotten the normal life they thought they were supposed to have, the normal memories and name and identity, the mundane life of a normal person. And they just had to trade everything they found in the Sea of Monsters to get it. A question is answered, a direction is followed, but is it the right answer, the right direction?

Well, I think doubt would have remained.

I had a very vague idea for there to be some sort of man-eating giant in, like, a crystal castle. He got cut to make way for the mermaids.

I wanted to fit in a big whale and a giant crustacean, but there wasn't room or an interesting angle for me to want to make room for them. Saved for a possible sequel, I suppose.

I also wanted to have a scene with, like, DOZENS of sea monsters, including some of the ones from Offbeat Melody, but the goal of "this should be EASY you dumbass" made me kill that idea pretty quick.

Thank you!

The primary inspirations were:

The Odyssey and Epic: the Musical

The voyage of St. Brendan

The many "weird shit happens on an island" movies in Toho's filmography, i.e. Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster, Son of Godzilla, Yog Monster of the Deep, Matango, etc.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

The Boy and the Heron

Ponyo (specifically Ponyo's parents - I wanted Sailor to have the same desperate energy as that wizard who fucks the giant sea goddess)

The Life of Pi

Slay the Princess (perhaps most obvious in the use of second person narration, multiple voices in the protagonist's head, and falling in love with a creature that has tried to kill you at least once)

I'm going to use this to springboard to a related point in a second, but first a genuine yet humorous answer: Yes, absolutely yes, I am enough of a big romantic sap that I would give everything about my life away to be with a person who loves me and explore a world of monsters in a heartbeat. Hell, I would have jumped in the water the minute Calibani asked and died with her fangs in my neck and a smile on my face. I am dumb this way. Do not follow my example.

On that related point, though... Most stories like this, I daresay ALL stories like this that I know of, end with the hero abandoning the fantasy world in favor of reality, never to return. And that seems like the proper choice and lesson on the surface - we don't want to tell audiences to give up their real life in favor of a fantasy, after all. That's encouraging escapism, and that's not healthy!

But, like... textually speaking, the fantastical world IS real to the characters in these stories. And it's often not really an escape - was Sailor's life devoid of conflict and suffering in the Sea of Monsters? Fuck no! It's just that they figured out how to deal with that conflict and suffering - they built skills and a support system, they adapted, they learned how to overcome what was there.

I think it can be argued that sometimes the return to a "normal" world is, in itself, an escape - the idea that your life can spiral into chaos but that's ok, you can just reset everything and go back to The Way It Was and Should Be is just as unrealistic and unhealthy an idea as You Should Escape to A Better World. Sometimes your plans for your life fall apart, sometimes you're thrown into a place you never intended to go, sometimes you have to learn skills you never anticipated needing and ally with people you never thought you'd befriend to deal with problems you never dreamed you'd have to overcome. And sometimes it's ok to look at your derailed life, your Not Where You Should Be life, and say, "Well, I've learned how to live here... maybe I can stay."

Especially if there's a cute chubby sea monster girl who loves you.

Bob was never supposed to appear past chapter 7, but about halfway through that chapter I realized the audience and I myself would be heartbroken if we didn't rescue her. Definitely for the best - she provided some well-needed comic relief in the final chapters.

This is gonna sound snarky, but, yeah - there were 58 choices with four options a piece, and we only chose one of the four. While some of the options would have similar results, almost none would have had identical outcomes. And some would have been VERY different.

Like, to go back to the beginning: when Calibani attacked, we could either throw a net on her, harpoon her, try to drive around her, or hide below deck. We picked the net, but for the other three options:

Harpooning would result in us hitting her in the thigh, causing her enough pain that she collapses on our deck and we, horrified at the violence we committed, just sort of push on. Calibani would be wounded for at least the next chapter, perhaps longer, and significantly weaker (and probably harboring a great deal of hidden resentment while also being genuinely scared of Sailor). She would be vulnerable during the stork attack, forcing Sailor to take a more active role in that chapter.

Trying to steer around her would result in us essentially fighting her with our boat, resulting in the boat capsizing and Calibani getting tangled up in it. We'd wake up alone on Stork Island and have to travel in search of our boat, alone and vulnerable among man-eating trees. We'd run into Calibani again, also beached and in trouble, end up recruiting her to help us get our boat out of the sand.

Hiding below deck would end in a sea storm that leaves us inside our boat as it's beached on Stork Island. We'd fend off the storks alone, and run into Calibani once we get our boat out to sea, as she got away more or less unscathed.

All of these would have majorly changed the trajectory of our relationship with Calibani and our identity as Sailor, despite seeming to have the same component parts on the surface. Now account for how similarly slight changes in the other options could have gone, and we could have had a very different story indeed.

Part 8: Our Girl

I just think she's neat!