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gothgoblinbabe · 5 months ago

Text

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Definitely not my type of girl.

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.��

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately.

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?”

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.”

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?”

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine

5K notes · View notes

sparklingchim · 4 months ago

Text

game on 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.9k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: 18+

warnings: lots of smoochies !! 🤭, their first kiss <3, umm mentions of jk's infamous threesome again 😔, koo talks abt taking girls in missionary what can i say he is a man

summary: jungkook and you practice acting for the cameras. kissing him feels more right than you anticipated.

a/n: yayy chapter 2 is here!!!! <3 writing this was truly saur much fun n i hope u have fun reading too !!! 😋

read chappie one here

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"Just kiss me."

"Hold on a second."

"We really need to practise this."

"I know, just give me a minute."

You scoot away from Jungkook on the couch. You were sitting so close, almost about to kiss him actually, but his intense, doe-eyed gaze made you pause, needing a grounding breath.

You’ve never been this close to his face, and somehow, you can’t seem to cross the invisible line that keeps you from just pressing your mouth on his. Jungkook’s your friend, after all. You’ve known him since he was five and once saw him get his head stuck at school, so of course it’s weird.

You press your lips together in an attempt to focus, and lean in again, but once your eyes meet his, a smile urges on your mouth.

"Oh my god." Jungkook’s frustrated sigh cuts the air. "This can’t already be doomed to failure because of a simple kiss."

"It’s not! I just need to mentally prepare myself."

"I feel...offended? Kinda?" Jungkook weaves his fingers through his hair. "I’ve never had to convince someone to kiss me."

"It’s not you. I promise!" you say, reaching for his knee. "Under any other circumstance, if we weren’t friends, I’d love to kiss you. You’re hot and cute, but the situation we’re in makes me feel so stupid. It’s absurd."

Jungkook cringes when you call him cute and removes your hand off his knee.

Yesterday, when Jungkook showed up unannounced, it took him full ten minutes to convince you he wasn’t pulling a prank on you.

Who would believe their friend begging you to fake date them? It’s ridiculous. Only happens in the fictional world.

But then Jungkook showed you the pap picture that was circulating online. The comments and gossip were nasty and you knew he was caught up in a deep mess.

In the photo, Jungkook was surrounded by two girls, his arms draped casually around their waists as they stumbled out of the club, a half-full drink lazily held in his hand. His hair was a tousled mess, likely from the girls running their fingers through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a small peek into his defined chest. It was bold, provocative — definitely not the ideal image of a responsible twenty-year-old football rookie.

Probably the worst pap pic you’ve seen of him so far. And the worst timing too.

"You were wasted," you commented, staring at the article he was showing you on his phone.

"And I had so much fun last night." His voice was tinged with frustration, like a child whose favourite toy had just been snatched away. "But then I woke up to this picture, and a flood of missed calls and texts." He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling sharply. "They just had to ruin it for me."

Noticing your raised eyebrow, Jungkook quickly backtracked. "No, I know it’s my fault too. I shouldn’t have done this right before the World Cup, especially after what I promised. I just hate how everything turns into such a big deal, just because... well, just because I’m me."

The idea of fake dating Jungkook had seemed absurd, something out of a rom-com rather than real life. But the more he explained the pressure he was under, the more you understood why he needed this.

Jungkook was your best friend, and if kissing him in public could save his career, why not help him?

While you got ready for meeting his manager, stepping out of your comfy, rotting-at-home clothes, which consisted of little shorts and an oversized t-shirt (you think it’s actually Jungkook’s, but you’re not quite sure since it’s been in your closet for years now), and slipping into a casual, more presentable outfit, Jungkook busied himself fixing your laundry machine.

Jungkook’s manager knows you well – his entire team does. You are known as Jungkook’s close friend and had been spotted with him on multiple occasions.

Taesung greeted you warmly, though surprise flickered across his face when Jungkook introduced you as the solution to the fake dating plan.

You felt Taesung’s gaze assessing you, weighing your suitability for the role. Jungkook’s PR agent mirrored his scepticism, tilting her head in doubt. They exchanged uncertain glances, which made you nervous, but Jungkook was determined. Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook if he didn’t get what he wanted. With a few persuasive words and his usual charm, he quickly won Taesung over, who sighed and leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"We need to establish the narrative from the start," Taesung said seriously. "The media will dig into your background, and they’ll want to know if there’s anyone else in the picture. So, to be clear, you’re officially single. No boyfriend, no complicated past relationships that could surface. We don’t need any messy stories."

You assured them that there was none. Multiple times. No angry exes, no secret relationships – your personal life was as drama-free as it could get.

Taesung slid a document across the desk.

"This ensures that whatever happens, no details of this arrangement-"

Jungkook’s hand shot out, halting the paper. "No," he said firmly. "She doesn’t need to sign anything."

"Jungkook, it’s just a formality," Jiwoo began, but Jungkook insisted.

"I trust ___. She’s not just anybody. She’s my best friend. If she says she won’t talk, she won’t talk. The NDA isn’t necessary."

"It’s okay," you assured him gently.

Jungkook shook his head. "No, this is ridiculous. You’re not signing a stupid contract."

After more arguing, his manager eventually relented.

Jiwoo outlined the plan in more detail with Taesung – public appearances, social media posts, carefully orchestrated moments that would sell the story to the public. You felt a bit intimidated by the pressure, but you’d get used to it. After all, this arrangement is only for a few months – just until his management can announce that you’d mutually decided to break up on good terms.

But you both need to practise before stepping in front of the cameras.

Which leads you to this moment, a day later, sitting on your couch trying to practice how to act like a couple. And it’s not going well at all.

"Okay, let’s start from the basics then," Jungkook suggests. He rises to his feet, offering you his hand. "Hold my hand."

You gingerly accept his hand, standing up as well.

"See, don’t we look cute?" Jungkook drags you to the mirror. "Or maybe – let’s intertwine our fingers. I think that would look better." He holds your interlaced hands up between the two of you, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. "So cute, right?"

A giggle bubbles in your throat. "You act like you’ve never had a girlfriend."

"Well, it has been a while," he admits, the slightest sulk on his lips. "I’m too busy for relationships." He swings your hands. "The only times I ever hold a girl’s hand is in missionary, above their head when-"

"Jungkook," you interrupt quickly before he can delve any deeper into the story. You give him a mock glare, but there’s no hiding the amusement dancing in your eyes. "Didn’t we both agree on only talking about your bed stories after I’ve had at least one bottle of soju – preferably two, so I can mentally brace myself?"

You love him, you really do, but you don’t want to hear about his bed stories, unless you’re the slightest bit tipsy at first.

"Oh, yeah." He shakes his head apologetically. "Forgot about that."

"Wait, maybe that’s what we should do!" you exclaim as an idea pops into your mind. Your hand slips out of his, and you take a step toward the kitchen. "I think there are a few bottles of soju in the fridge."

"We’re not getting drunk to build up the courage to kiss," he insists. "We shouldn’t need alcohol to pretend we’re into each other."

Jungkook pulls you closer to him, and you stumble slightly, but his hand instinctively moves to the small of your back, steadying you.

"Fine," you sigh dramatically, hand on his chest. "Was just an idea to make this easier for us." The fabric of his shirt is extremely soft and your fingers glide over it.

"I mean, it’s not like we’re complete strangers. And they know it too. We’ve been through enough to pull this off without breaking a sweat."

He’s is right. The public knows you’re one of Jungkook’s closest friends. It wouldn’t be totally unbelievable that you two might have fallen in love.

After all, you’ve always been comfortable with each other —hugging, cuddling during movie nights, play-fight over silly things just to annoy each other. You’ve shared quiet moments, like when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day or when he’d run his fingers through your hair absentmindedly while you talked. There were times when Jungkook was exhausted and crashed at your place, your fingers gently scratching his head as he slept peacefully. You’ve kissed each other’s cheeks in thanks without hesitation.

Jungkook’s touch isn’t foreign to you.

And still, the thought of acting like you’re in love when you’re not feels strange. Sure, you’ve always been physically close, but this was different. This time, every gesture would be for an audience, every touch would carry a different meaning. It wasn’t just casual anymore.

"I guess," you reply, fiddling with the hem of his oversized t-shirt, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I think it’s just weird to be this close for show."

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his eyes softening as he considers your words. "Yeah," he murmurs. "But it’s not like we’re faking the friendship part. The rest...we’ll figure out." His fingers clasp your hip, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your flesh. "Don’t think about it too much," he says. "When we have our first public appearance as a couple, pretend like the cameras aren’t there, act nonchalant. Just... y’know. You and me."

You pout, an involuntarily frustrated grumble leaving your lips as you drop your forehead on his chest.

"I hope I’ll do well under all the attention."

You’ve dealt with your fair share of noisy people trying to pry into your relationship with Jungkook, but so far, it’s been somewhat manageable.

"Just you and me," Jungkook repeats, his tone softer and more assured this time. "Nothing can happen to you when I’m there."

You glance up at him, taking in the gentle lines of his face.

"Maybe you should’ve hired a girl that can deal well with attention," you voice your thoughts.

"No." Jungkook’s immediate response rolls off harshly on his tongue. "You were my first thought. I wouldn’t have done this with anyone else but you."

"I was your first choice?" Giddiness makes your face shine.

"Yeah. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable with anyone but you."

"Be honest, you just really wanna kiss me."

You stand on your tippy toes, a silly smile spreading across your face.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side, a teasing glint buried in his eyes.

"I think you do."

With a surge of confidence, you take a small step closer, your heart beating a little faster as you close the gap between you and Jungkook. Your lips meet in a gentle, fleeting touch. The contact only lasts for a moment before you pull back, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

"That was a smooch. Not a kiss."

You frown upon hearing him complain.

"What, you want to make out with me in public?"

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. "No, but maybe a little more than how fifth graders kiss."

"You’re a kissing expert now?" you quip back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jungkook leans in slightly. "I just know what I like."

The challenge in his voice sparks something in you. "Then show me how you like it."

His gaze drops to your lips, and a flutter of excitement spreads in your tummy. It’s unexpected and thrilling and it catches you off guard.

Jungkook’s hand, which had been resting on your back, slowly glides up, his fingers curling around the side of your face, his thumb brushing delicately against your cheekbone.

Your breath hitches as he leans in. His lips meet yours again, but this time there’s more weight behind the contact – still soft, but deeper, more intentional. His lips move slowly and there’s a warmth to it, a tenderness that makes your heart race even as the kiss remains gentle. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the connection just enough to make you melt into him.

The teasing atmosphere lingers in the back of your mind, but for now, it’s pushed aside by the gentle pressure of his lips on yours.

Kissing Jungkook doesn’t feel weird – which makes it a little weird.

When you both finally pull back, it’s gradual. You can feel his breath, warm and steady, mingling with your own.

"Like that," he whispers, his voice barely audible, yet it sends a shiver down your spine. "You’re a good kisser."

You pull back completely. "Excuse me?" you say. "You were doubting my kissing abilities?"

"No, not at all!" Jungkook shakes his head, amusement crinkling his eyes as he gazes at your sulky face. "You’re just a very good kisser. Like, super gentle and smooth."

Heat crawls up your cheeks. You ignore the flush of warmth and keep your composure. "Have you been using the lip balm I got you? Your lips are soft."

"I know, right? Not chapped at all anymore."

He traces two fingers along his bottom lip and your eyes follow the motion, finding yourself inexplicably drawn to his lips.

"Are we done practising?"

"Do you think we looked natural?" Jungkook’s hand slips into yours once more. While he is focused on the mirror, adjusting the way your bodies fit together – tugging you closer, alternating between holding your hand and interlacing your fingers – your mind is still replaying the memory of the tender press of his lips. "For me, it felt pretty natural. Not awkward at all. What do you think?"

It’s the simplicity with which he says it that draws a short laugh out of you.

The sound grabs his attention. "What?"

"You’re just...extremely serious about this. I don’t think they’ll analyse the way we hold hands, Kook."

"But that’s their favourite thing to do," Jungkook replies. "The gossip mills love analysing every step you take, where your eyes wander, who you smile at." A note of bitterness threads through his words.

He’s been playing pro for just two years and has fallen victim to greedy people intruding on his life so many times already. Former friends who leaked private conversations, acquaintances who turned their brief interactions into tabloid fodder, even strangers who felt entitled to a piece of him just because he was in the public eye.

Jungkook searched for solace and silence at your place many times, trying to escape the madness. In the quiet of your dorm, breathing felt easier.

You never asked questions, never pried. In a world where everyone seemed out to get something from him, you just let him be, offering him the comfort of your presence without demanding anything in return.

"People were just criticising this dude – ah, who was it again?" Jungkook stares at the ceiling, raking through his thoughts. "I can’t remember his name, but this guy was getting called out for choosing the booth seat while making his girlfriend sit in the aisle seat."

"The aisle seat? Come on, it’s an unwritten rule that-" You fall silent once you catch Jungkook’s pointed expression. "I mean, yeah. It’s definitely wrong to make a big deal about it. Maybe she prefers sitting there," you shrug.

"But do you see what I mean?" he asks. "Whether you intend to or not, you’re always judging what others do. And that judgement only intensifies when it involves a celebrity."

"Ah, when did you become so famous Jeon Jungkook?" You sigh, looking down at your linked hands.

"I know, right? Two years ago, no one would’ve cared if I had a threesome." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And now I am being punished for it—kicked off the national team, and my best friend has to save me by fake dating me."

"I feel like this would make a good movie," you giggle.

“We have to practise hard, then," he says.

You pull your phone from your pocket. "What if we film ourselves kissing so we can monitor it better?" You set up your phone on a nearby shelf and position yourselves in front of the camera. "Don’t engaged couples do this? I feel like we’re practising for our wedding kiss."

"Oh, butterflies."

"Huh?" You stare at the way he holds his hand against his tummy.

"You just told me you want to marry me. That gave me butterflies."

You slap his arm. "Stop being silly, we have a whole nation to fool that we’re in love."

Hang outs with Jungkook often end with the two of you lounging on the couch, snacks scattered everywhere, and a movie playing on the TV.

"Next one?" Jungkook asks from his spot beside you, inching closer with his pleading doe eyes.

You try to push him away by the, but he doesn’t budge.

"I need to study. Like, for real." You had warned him before starting the movie, agreeing to watch only one, but he still tried his luck.

He holds up one finger. "Just one."

You push him off your body, and this time he allows it, his back slumping against the couch. The grumble of complaint in his throat gets muffled by his pursed lips.

"You’re smart. The material is probably set in your brain anyway. No need to revise anything."

You scoff at his bratty words.

"So you won’t ever need to ditch hangouts for football practice because you’re already so good at it?"

"Well, no." He drags the word out, brows furrowed as he considers your question, trying to come up with a reasonable answer. "But I know you don’t need to study as much as you do. You’re just naturally smart."

"I wish, but I ace my exams because I study as much as I do."

"Aish," Jungkook mutters, standing up from the couch and stretching his limbs. His toned tummy peeks out from under his lifted shirt.

"Karina will be home soon anyway," you say. "And I’m not ready to play pretend in front of her yet." The thought of confessing to your roommate that Jungkook is now your boyfriend makes you shudder.

It was one of the conditions that made you briefly reconsider if you could really pull this off or if Jungkook should find another girl. You didn’t just have to act in front of the cameras – everyone had to believe that you and Jungkook are a couple, including your friends and family. You dread the day you have to tell your parents.

You know they once secretly hoped Jungkook would become your boyfriend when you were older, but as he became famous and the public started scrutinising his every move, your parents grew wary of his wild, reckless side.

You follow Jungkook to the door.

"You think she’ll believe us?"

"I dunno," you shrug. "Not sure if she’ll buy it. She’ll probably be suspicious since I’ve never talked about you in that way when we gossip, but I think we’ve practised enough to at least make it look like we love each other."

Jungkook nods and hugs you briefly. "We’ll figure it out." He steps out of your apartment, typing on his phone. "My manager sent me details about our first public appearance." He scans the text, but quickly looks up at you again with an annoyed frown. "Ah, so many words. I’ll just forward you the messages." With a sweet smile and a quick wave, he starts to leave, but you tug at the back of his shirt.

You cup his face, pulling him down to you, and plant a kiss on his lips.

"You’re my boyfriend now. Act like it."

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

Text

Come to Bed

Summary: based on this request - a text from Azriel was meant to go to you, but went to his entire family instead.

Author’s note: I loved this idea this was so fun and definitely very on brand for the inner circle tbh

Az: Come to bed :(

It was a short message. Azriel had been sick for two days now, and since meeting you, he can’t remember how he’d just go on during his sick days.

He used to go to work just fine while sick. He’d wear a mask and keep his distance, but he’d be able to go no problem.

But ever since you came into his life, now he was too spoiled when he was sick to go anywhere or do anything. You had insisted that your cuddles would heal him, along with the various soups you made him eat every day.

Honestly? It was a little awesome. If it weren’t for how shitty he felt, that is. You rubbed his back until he fell asleep, whenever he got up to shower you washed his sheets, and you brought him medicine every few hours. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was soaking in every moment of your attention.

But now you were downstairs, talking with Elain about something or another. You had told him what for before you left, but his feverish haze had made him forget. He woke up alone, having dozed off in your absence, and all he wanted was you to come back. He had just texted you to come back to bed when his door creak opens.

Azriel pops his head out of the nest he made to find Cassian crawling up his bed on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around Azriel, and spooning him over the covers.

Azriel coughs, “what are you doing here?”

“You asked for me to come to bed.”

Azriel’s head hurts trying to figure out what he means when his door opens once more to Rhysand strolling through the room, lying on Az’s other side.

“Ah, come on Azzy. It’s just like when we were younger,” Cassian tells him, his body heat helping with the chills taking over Azriel’s body.

Azriel sniffles, “we were like eight years old.”

“Well, Cassian hasn’t matured much since then,” Rhysand chimes in, staying on the bed but not too close to Az. He’ll provide some level of comfort with his presence, but he’ll be damned if he lets his brother get him sick.

“Why are you two here?” Azriel croaks, every word hurting his poor throat.

Rhys opens his phone to show him the family groupchat they had, the last message coming from Azriel saying, “Come to bed :(“

Azriel groans reading it, “I’m sure you could guess I sent it to the wrong person.”

Cassian chuckles, causing vibrations through Azriel’s back. He’s too weak to fight Cassian off of him, and the weight of him actually feels nice. Maybe Cassian would make a great weighted blanket after all.

“I never second guess any texts I receive. I assumed you missed me, it has been days since you’ve seen my glorious face.”

Cassian and Azriel continue bickering while Rhysand watches in amusement.

Mor comes in shortly after, bringing a warm cup of tea for both herself and Azriel, handing one mug to him while lounging across the foot of the bed. The tea soothes his throat, and he hates to admit it, but he does appreciate the presence of his family. He had been quarantined for days, trying to keep to his room as much as possible. He had grown quite accustomed to his big, invasive family. Your company was more than enough, but he did miss Cassian’s daily debriefs of his day.

Feyre comes in, taking residence next to Mor, as Cassian tells them all ridiculous versions of how he managed to destroy that building in the Summer Court. Each tale more ridiculous than the last, with Feyre even adding her own absurd version of events.

“I heard that a dragon flew in and Cassian fought it off with his bare hands and the only damage was that one building!”

Their laughter rings in Az’s ears as he closes his eyes, dozing, but not truly asleep.

You were shocked walking back to Az’s bedroom to find both of his brothers, Feyre, and Mor all lounging in bed with him. Azriel perks up at your figure in the doorway, somehow knowing you were there despite his resting state. His voice crackles from his sore throat, “save me?”

You walk in, squeezing yourself between Rhys and Azriel, and your boyfriend melts in your arms, falling asleep quickly as his family still chatters around you.

The next time Azriel wakes up, it’s dark outside, but he’s still cuddled to your chest.

“Hi sweetheart,” you tell him, setting your book down. He practically purrs at you running your hand through his hair.

“Sleep well?”

He presses his face back into your chest. “I would have slept better if they weren’t all annoying.”

You laugh, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head.

“Poor baby with a loving family,” you coo, and he huffs.

“They’re not loving, they’re annoying busybodies. Except Feyre. She hasn’t gotten that bad yet.”

You smile, untangling his hair with your fingers.

“They might be annoying busybodies, but they love you and you love them.”

He squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sick. I only have so much love to give and it’s all going towards you.”

You laugh, your hand moving down to stroke his back. He relaxes in your embrace, your fingers soothing his clammy skin.

“Okay, you can wait until you’re feeling better to love them again.”

“Deal,” he tells you, eyes growing heavy once more. “Just - don’t tell Cassian. He’ll get upset.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

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cumironi · 3 months ago

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MY CUTE LITTLE FAIRY GARDENER : UMEMIYA HAJIME

you’ve been nothing but a princess in your entire life, never doing anything for yourself, always having anyone to do things for you. with that information your boyfriend, umemiya asks you— forces you more likely— to garden with him.

warning. established relationship! umemiya, fluff.

umemiya hajime’s love for gardening was undeniable. everyone knew it. no matter how busy or chaotic things got, he always found time to tend to his plants. his rooftop garden was his sanctuary, a personal slice of nature where he could forget everything else and focus on nurturing life. it was a passion that ran deep, something that gave him peace even in the middle of his duties as bofurin’s leader. it didn’t matter if it was raining, windy, or the sun was blazing hot—he was out there with his hands in the soil, carefully trimming, watering, and adjusting every little detail until it was just right.

you’d seen him countless times in his element, dirty but content, surrounded by green leaves and blooming flowers, while you comfortably sat in the shade, far away from the hot sun. you had your own reasons for staying in the shadows, though: you hated the heat, didn’t want to sweat, and couldn’t be bothered with dirt sticking to your skin. why get involved when you could sit back and watch?

“it’s too hot,” you’d say, dramatically waving a fan in your hand. or, “i’d rather die than have mud under my nails.” sometimes you even whined about bugs, covering yourself in long sleeves or swatting at imaginary insects, just to make a point. in short, you were being your usual spoiled brat self.

and yet, no matter how much you complained, umemiya never got mad. he’d just chuckle softly to himself, pausing from his work to glance over at you, a warm smile lighting up his face. “you’re such a spoiled girl,” he’d tease, his voice full of affection, the words never carrying any real judgment. instead, there was only love in his eyes as he looked at you, as if your complaints only made him cherish you more.

there was something calming about watching him work. the way his hands moved carefully through the soil, gently adjusting the plants like they were his own children. sometimes you’d catch yourself admiring him, the way he was so patient, so focused. it was a side of him that not many people got to see—the leader of bofurin, so tough and commanding, turning into this soft, tender version of himself when surrounded by his plants. but he never forced you to join him. it was enough for him that you were there, watching from the sidelines.

until yesterday, umemiya hajime had always been content with you watching from the sidelines, letting you sit in the shade and avoid getting your hands dirty while he busied himself in his garden. but something shifted—whether it was his desire to share his passion with you or just wanting to see you try something new—he decided that it was time for you to join him. he told you as much, though the way he phrased it didn’t leave much room for argument.

“you’re helping me tomorrow,” he had said with a playful grin, his tone light but firm. “it’s time you learn a thing or two about gardening.”

you’d been taken aback, blinking at him as if he’d just suggested the most absurd thing. “me? gardening?” you scoffed, gesturing toward yourself dramatically. “do i look like someone who digs in dirt?”

“you’ll be fine,” he said, unbothered by your complaints. “besides, it’ll be fun. i’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

you tried to protest, but umemiya just chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, effectively ending the conversation. “i’ll see you tomorrow,” he added, his voice soft but teasing. “wear something cute.”

the next morning, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, a mixture of excitement and dread settling in your stomach. gardening wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time, but there was no way you were going to let umemiya see you half-heartedly show up. if you were going to do this, you were going to do it in style.

so, after some deliberation, you picked out what could only be described as your ‘gardenercore’ outfit—a floral dress that hugged your figure just right, paired with designer boots that were sturdy enough to handle the rooftop garden but still chic enough to make a statement. you topped it off with a sun hat that shielded you from the harsh rays while adding a touch of elegance to your look. everything was meticulously put together, from the dress to the accessories, making sure that even if you had to dig in the dirt, you were going to look good doing it.

as you made your way to the rooftop of his school, you could already feel the heat of the day creeping in, but you refused to let it dampen your mood. you were determined to show umemiya that you could handle whatever he threw at you, even if it involved dirt and bugs. when you finally arrived at the rooftop, you found him already there, crouched over his plants like usual, his back to you as he worked.

the sight of him, so focused and calm, almost made you forget why you were annoyed about this whole thing in the first place. his dedication to his plants was admirable—he treated them with such care, as if they were delicate and precious, and it was hard not to feel a sense of pride swell up in your chest as you watched him.

“i’m here,” you announced, your voice carrying across the rooftop as you stood at the entrance, your hands resting on your hips.

umemiya glanced over his shoulder, and when his eyes landed on you, he froze for a moment, taking in your appearance. a grin spread across his face as he stood up, wiping his hands on his pants as he walked over to meet you and your dramatic yet cute outfit, especially your sun hat.

“well look at you,” he replied with a smirk, his eyes roaming over your outfit appreciatively. he took the hat from your head, inspecting it with a hint of humor. “a bit fancy for gardening, don’t you think?”

he placed the hat back on you, adjusting it slightly before stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “you look like you’re going to a garden party, not getting dirty.”

you roll your eyes dramatically, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “please, haji. i have a reputation to maintain,” you huffed, lightly flicking the brim of the hat as he adjusted it on your head. “i can’t let anyone catch me dressed like a slob. people might start thinking i’ve completely lost my mind if i show up here looking like a mess.”

you tilt your head, offering him a mock glare as you smooth down the front of your floral dress. “besides, you’re the one who dragged me out here. you don’t get to complain about what i’m wearing when this wasn’t my idea in the first place,” you added, crossing your arms as you gave him a pointed look. “if anything, you should be thanking me for even showing up. i could be inside, in the AC, doing anything other than digging in dirt, but no. i’m here. looking fabulous, might i add.”

you lifted one foot, admiring the way the light hit your designer boots. “and for the record,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm, “these boots are definitely more garden-appropriate than whatever it is you’re wearing.” you gesture toward his worn-out boots that made out of plastic? and the dirt-smeared pants he’s been working in.

umemiya let out a snort at your comments, shaking his head. “ah, there’s my spoiled brat,” he teased affectionately. “always gotta look good, huh? even in the garden. you’re so damn high maintenance.”

he grabbed one of the loose straps of your dress, giving it a playful tug. “might as well be made out of delicate silk, the way you’re so scared to get it dirty.”

you pout immediately, giving him a playful swat on the chest. “i’m not scared!” you protest, narrowing your eyes at him, though your expression softens when you see the teasing look in his eyes. “i just don’t like the feeling of getting dirty, okay? there’s a difference.” you cross your arms, feigning indignation as you tilt your head to the side.

“some of us actually care about feeling clean,” you add, sticking your nose in the air in mock offense. “not everyone can roll around in the dirt like it’s nothing, hajime.” you glance down at the strap he tugged, smoothing it out with exaggerated care before looking back up at him with a raised eyebrow. “besides, do you really think i’m going to let all this go to waste?” you gesture to your perfectly styled outfit. “i came prepared to look good while doing this.”

you poke him in the chest with a smirk. “if anything, you should be impressed with how well i’m handling this. i mean, i’m here, aren’t i? in the sun, in the dirt, all for you. that’s got to count for something. it’s the thought that counts, baby.”

umemiya chuckled at your feisty response, clearly enjoying your dramatic reaction. “oh, i'm impressed all right,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, the hint of a smirk still playing on his lips. “impressed by your ability to maintain your princess status while standing in a garden full of dirt and bugs.”

he took a step closer, his eyes raking over your carefully styled appearance before meeting yours again, his gaze warm and amused. “i mean, look at you. you’re a vision. like a flower in a field of weeds. it’s really quite a sight.”

in what felt like the blink of an eye, umemiya had you swapping out your designer boots for a pair that matched his—scuffed and practical, not a hint of style to them. your perfectly manicured hands were now clad in rough, oversized gloves that felt awkward and out of place. the final touch was the old, worn-out overall he somehow convinced you to wear, its dull, faded color doing absolutely nothing for your look. you glanced down at yourself, horrified at the transformation.

“hajime,” you groaned, dragging out his name as you stared at your reflection in the garden tools. “i look ridiculous!” your voice had a hint of a whine to it, and you tugged at the baggy overall in frustration. “this isn’t cute at all—i look like i’m about to fix a car, not plant flowers!”

he couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction, his eyes filled with amusement as he leaned back to admire his work. “you’re ready now,” he teased, clearly pleased with himself.

you huffed, pulling the gloves higher up your wrists and stomping your booted foot lightly on the ground. “how am i supposed to garden looking like this?” you whined again, glancing at him with pleading eyes. “this is a disaster! at least let me keep my hat,” you added, adjusting it in an attempt to salvage any shred of dignity. with a sigh, you crossed your arms. “i’m never going to live this down, am i?”

umemiya hummed in satisfaction as he took a step back to admire his handiwork, his gaze dropping to your feet now clad in pink plastic boots. “i bought those just for you, y’know,” he said, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “your favorite color, of course.”

you glanced down at the bright pink boots, feeling a mixture of frustration and amusement bubbling up inside. they were definitely not the kind of boots you’d ever imagined yourself wearing in a garden, but they were cute in their own way. you huffed, still pouting as you crossed your arms, trying to maintain your discontent.

his eyes moved up to your face, and he chuckled at the sight of your pout. “you still look fashionable,” he teased lightly, reaching out to gently flick the brim of your hat. “especially with those little pink boots. they suit you.”

“fashionable?” you echoed, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “in these?” you gestured dramatically at the boots and then at the faded overall. he just smiled, his teasing affection clear. “yeah, you do. you can pull off anything.” despite your earlier complaints, his compliment made you soften, though you rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath. “you’re lucky i like you, haji.”

umemiya grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “oh, i know,” he replied, his voice smug as he reached out to straighten your hat again. “i’m very lucky to have a spoiled princess like you stuck with me, suffering through dirt and manual labor just because i asked.”

he chuckled, teasing you with mock sympathy. “look at you, all dressed for a day in the garden. pink boots, faded overall, and all. you’re a vision, really. the epitome of outdoor chic, darling.”

you muttered under your breath, your eyes narrowing in mock irritation. “this is so annoying,” you grumbled, tugging at the faded overall and shifting in the pink boots, trying to get used to the unfamiliar feel of them. you shot umemiya a half-hearted glare, though you couldn’t completely hide the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

umemiya just shook his head, a fond smile on his face as he watched your spoiled act. “you’ll survive,” he teased lightly, adjusting the straps of your overall with surprising care. “i just want you to be comfortable, okay? besides,” his tone softened, and he looked at you with a gentler expression, “i didn’t want you complaining later about getting your designer clothes dirty. now you’ve got no excuse.”

his words were filled with affection, and despite your earlier protests, you couldn’t help but feel a little touched by how thoughtful he was being. even if it meant enduring a ridiculous outfit for the sake of gardening.

as he finished adjusting the straps, he stepped back to admire his handiwork once more. his eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail of your new look. “you know,” he said, his tone serious but with a hint of humor, “you don’t look half-bad in this. you might even start a new gardening trend.”

he chuckled, leaning against the edge of the pot. “pink boots and faded overall. all the rage. maybe we’ll start a fashion line together—‘spoilt princess meets garden wear.’ we’ll be millionaires in no time.”

you rolled your eyes and playfully swatted his arm, unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. “oh, shut up,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words. “let’s just get this over with, okay? the faster we finish, the sooner i can get out of this ridiculous outfit.” you tugged at the faded overall again, feeling the material between your fingers as you shot him a pointed look.

“i’m not trying to start a new fashion trend, hajime. i’m just trying to survive this.”

he chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction, but nodded in agreement as he pushed himself off the edge of the pot. “alright, alright,” he said with a grin. “let’s get to it, princess. the sooner we start, the sooner we’re done.”

you let out a dramatic sigh but followed him, making sure to stick close to the shade as you mentally prepared yourself for a day of dirt and manual labor. “and just for the record,” you added, glancing at him with a smirk, “i’m never doing this again.”

umemiya gently took your hand, the warmth of his touch calming as he guided you toward the section of the rooftop garden where he had planned to plant new seeds. “come on,” he said, his voice soft but filled with excitement. “i’ve been wanting to plant these for a while now, and i thought it’d be more fun with you here.”

you followed him, still feeling a bit ridiculous in your outfit but trying to push that aside as you glanced at the area he’d prepared. the soil looked rich and carefully tended to, just like everything else in his garden. despite your earlier complaints, seeing how passionate he was about it made you want to at least try and make the best of it.

as you both crouched down, umemiya handed you a small packet of seeds, his gaze flickering to you with a smile. “we’re planting these first,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “just dig a little hole, drop in the seed, and cover it up. i’ll show you how.”

you nodded, looking at the seeds in your gloved hands before glancing back at him. “alright,” you said, your tone softer now, “but if i get dirty, i’m holding you responsible.”

umemiya just chuckled, clearly enjoying your attempts at maintaining your princess persona amidst the dirt and plants. “oh, you’ll get dirty,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact but affectionate. “that’s part of the experience. don’t worry, i’ll be right here, coaching you through it.”

he leaned in closer, pointing to a small spot in the soil. “watch me,” he instructed. “just like this.” he demonstrated, his gloved hands effortlessly digging a little hole and dropping a seed in, covering it up with soil.

for once, you didn’t complain. instead, you furrowed your brows in concentration, carefully watching umemiya’s hands as he worked. you alternated your gaze between his movements and your own hands, making sure you followed his lead exactly.

slowly, you mimicked his actions, digging a small hole in the soil with your gloved fingers, your lips pressing together in focus. “like this, haji?” you asked, glancing up at him for confirmation, your usual sass momentarily replaced by genuine curiosity.

he watched you closely, clearly pleased with your imitation. “yeah, just like that,” he nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he leaned in slightly, his gaze drifting between your hands and your face. “good, babe.”

he placed a gloved hand over yours, guiding your fingers as you covered the seed. his touch was light but reassuring, his fingertips gently pressing against yours as he showed you how much soil to add.

“see? you’re a natural,” he teased lightly.

he continued to guide you through the process, watching as you both planted the seeds one by one. as you worked, he would occasionally offer tips and advice, his voice soft and patient as he walked you through the gardening process. he seemed to find a certain comfort in the routine, his movements rhythmic and practiced.

as you both worked side by side, he couldn’t help but steal glances at you, admiring the way your face lit up with determination as you focused on the task at hand. “you’re doing great, princess,” he whispered, a hint of pride in his voice.

you paused for a moment, turning your head to look at him when he whispered those words of encouragement. his pride was evident, and it made your heart flutter unexpectedly. a soft smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze, the warmth in his eyes making you feel a bit more at ease with the whole gardening experience.

“thank you, haji,” you murmured, your voice quiet but sincere. you gave him a small nod before turning your attention back to the plant in front of you, your hands moving more confidently now as you planted the next seed.

even though this wasn’t something you’d ever imagined yourself doing, the peaceful atmosphere and umemiya’s steady presence made it more enjoyable than you’d expected. maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

he noticed the subtle change in your expression, the hint of reluctance slowly replaced by a sense of accomplishment as you continued to work. he watched you closely, taking in your every small gesture—the way your face focused on the task, the way your hands moved with surprising dexterity.

“you’re catching on faster than i thought you would,” he commented lightly, his tone teasing but filled with affection. “maybe there’s a little green thumb hiding in there after all.”

you chuckled softly at his comment, shaking your head as you shot him a playful glare. “shut up,” you muttered, though there was no real heat behind your words. instead, you leaned closer to him, your eyes softening as you tilted your head slightly, lips jutting out in a silent request. the teasing look in your eyes made it clear what you wanted without you having to say anything.

umemiya raised an eyebrow, catching on immediately. a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, and without hesitation, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips, his gloved hand brushing gently against yours. “there,” he whispered after pulling back, his voice low and affectionate. “a little reward for my hardworking princess.”

he chuckled softly as he straightened back up, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and amusement. his gaze lingered on your face, taking in the sight of the dirt smudge on your cheek and the faint blush rising on your cheeks.

“careful,” he teased, his tone light and playful. “don’t let the gardening get to your head. you’re still my princess, remember?” he reached out, his gloved fingers delicately removing the dirt smudge from your cheek, his touch gentle and affectionate.

you nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you leaned slightly into his touch when he wiped the dirt from your cheek. “alright, haji,” you murmured, your voice light and teasing as you turned your attention back to the task at hand. with a quiet determination, you refocused, ready to plant the last seed.

kneeling down still, you carefully dug the final hole, your hands moving with more confidence than when you first started. you gently placed the seed in, covering it with soil and patting it down before sitting back on your heels. “there,” you said, a hint of pride in your voice as you glanced up at umemiya. “last one. we’re done.”

umemiya beamed at your accomplishment, his eyes filled with genuine pride. he crouched down next to you, resting his hands on his knees as he looked at the row of newly planted seeds.

“you did great,” he praised, his voice soft and affectionate. “you’re a natural at this.” he chuckled, reaching out to ruffle your hair playfully that was still covered with your sun hat. “who knew that my princess could get her hands dirty and grow a garden?”

you grinned at his praise, feeling a small sense of pride at how well you’d done. even though you weren’t typically one to get your hands dirty, it felt good to know you’d helped him with something he was so passionate about.

“what’s next?” you asked, looking up at him with curiosity, your usual sassiness replaced by genuine interest. “are we done, or do we need to water these or something?” you swatted his hand away when he ruffled your hair, but the smile on your face stayed as you waited for his response, actually eager to hear what came next in the process.

he chuckled at your eager question, clearly pleased with your unexpected curiosity. “yeah, we need to water them,” he confirmed, rising to his feet and offering you a hand to help you up.

“come on, i’ll show you.”

he led you over to a nearby hose, gesturing for you to take it. “here, we’ll each take an end.” he stood next to you, close enough that your shoulders almost touched as he began to water the freshly planted seeds. “just gently spray them. we don’t want to drown the little guys.”

you chuckled softly at his words, glancing at him with a mix of amusement and uncertainty. “drown them, huh?” you teased, shaking your head as you carefully took the hose from him. though you tried to sound confident, the hesitation showed in your movements as you began to water the plants, giving them only small sprinkles of water, afraid of overdoing it.

“like this?” you asked, glancing over at umemiya for reassurance, your brow furrowed in concentration. “i don’t want to flood the poor things.” you continued to water the plants cautiously, almost tiptoeing around the process as if one wrong move would ruin all your hard work.

he chuckled again, watching you carefully water the plants. “yeah, just like that,” he reassured, a hint of amusement in his tone. “you’re doing great. just give them a little sprinkle, and they’ll be good.”

he observed your cautious movements, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. he couldn’t help but find your uncertainty endearing, your typical demeanor replaced by a rare hint of vulnerability. “you know, you don’t have to be so gentle with them,” he teased lightly. “they won’t break, princess.”

you pouted at his teasing, turning your head to give him a playful glare. “well, i don’t want them to drown,” you retorted, your tone a mix of defensiveness and mock seriousness. “you said it yourself, they’re fragile little guys.”

you gave the plants another gentle sprinkle of water, still moving cautiously despite his reassurance. “besides,” you added with a pout still, “you dragged me into this. so now you have to deal with me being overly careful.”

he chuckled again, shaking his head in amusement. “i should have known better,” he conceded lightly. “you’re always going to make a big deal out of everything, aren’t you?”

he glanced at you, taking in your pout and your over-careful manner with watering the plants. he couldn’t help but find the contrast between your usual self and this new side of you endearing, a small smile playing on his lips. “alright, princess,” he said, his tone playfully resigned. “just keep being careful. we’ll blame me if anything goes wrong.”

you hummed softly in response, a satisfied smirk forming on your lips. “good,” you muttered, giving him a side-eye. “because if anything happens, it’s definitely your fault.”

with that, you focused back on the task at hand, gently watering the plants one by one. despite your earlier hesitation, you found a rhythm, your movements becoming more confident as you finished up the last plant. “there,” you said, stepping back with a sense of accomplishment. “all done, and no drowning involved.”

you shot umemiya a playful look, raising an eyebrow as if to say, see? i can do this.

he chuckled at your satisfied smirk, shaking his head in mock defeat. “alright, alright,” he conceded, raising his hands in surrender. “you win, princess. i clearly underestimated your green thumb skills.”

he stepped closer to you, his expression a mix of pride and affection. he couldn’t help but feel impressed by how you took to the gardening task with a mix of determination and carefulness.

“you’re a natural,” he teased lightly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. “soon, you’ll be giving me gardening tips.”

you hummed in satisfaction, following umemiya as he guided you to the shade. settling on the bench, you stretched out your legs and glanced at him with a teasing smirk. “you better be careful,” you mused, “your plants might end up liking me more than you.”

umemiya chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he knelt in front of you. “oh, i’m sure they’ll fall for your charm just like i did,” he teased, gently pulling off your gloves and then your boots. his touch was soft as he carefully cleaned any traces of dirt from your feet, making sure to preserve your perfectly manicured toes.

“can’t have you getting dirty after all that hard work,” he murmured with a smile, his attention focused on making sure you were completely comfortable. his hands lingered for a moment, warm and steady, before he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with fondness.

you watched him intently, your smirk slowly shifting into a small smile as he tended to you. his touch was gentle yet firm, his hands carefully cleaning away any dirt that had clung to your skin, leaving your feet completely clean.

you hummed softly, a mix of contentment and a hint of flattery. “you’re too good to me, haji,” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. “you’re treating me like royalty, even though i just helped you plant seeds.” he chuckled quietly, his gaze still fixed on your feet as he gently removed the last bits of dirt.

umemiya looked up at you again, his expression softened with affection. “i can’t help it,” he murmured, his fingers gently massaging your clean toes. “you look so out of place here, in this rooftop garden, wearing those ridiculous clothes and yet looking damn cute.” he rose to his feet, towering over you as he looked down at your face. “i just want to take care of you... princess.”

you chuckled in amusement, leaning back on the bench as you gazed up at him. “you’re right,” you admitted, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “i do look completely out of place in these clothes, but...” your voice softened as you glanced around the rooftop garden. “i actually enjoyed it. spending time with you, learning one or two new things... it wasn’t so bad.”

you gave him a teasing look. “don’t get used to it, though. i’m still your spoiled princess. but maybe... just maybe, i can make an exception for you every now and then.”

umemiya looked at you with a soft smile, his eyes warm as he gently cupped your cheek. his fingers, now free from gloves, brushed against your skin, and though he didn’t say anything, the tenderness in his touch spoke volumes. you paused for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. despite all your spoiled, bratty complaints and dramatic antics, he admired you deeply.

he knew you grew up with a silver spoon in your life, always having things handed to you, always living in comfort. but even with that upbringing, you turned out beautifully. your spoiled attitude was never mean-spirited, never directed at anyone beneath you. you treated everyone with kindness and respect, willing to be friends with anyone regardless of their background.

umemiya didn’t blame you for not knowing how to do certain things. you were used to people doing everything for you—that’s how your entire life had been. and he understood that. it wasn’t your fault. but that’s exactly why he wanted to be here, to show you new things, to teach you about life in his own quiet, gentle way.

his thumb brushed your cheek softly as he gazed down at you, admiration evident in his eyes. “you’re doing great,” he said quietly, his voice filled with affection. “i’m not dragging you into this because i expect you to be perfect at it. i just want to share this with you, show you something different. and you’re here, aren’t you? that’s all that matters to me.”

he smiled, letting his hand linger on your cheek for a moment longer before dropping it. “besides,” he added with a teasing glint in his eyes, “you look cute in those boots.”

you rolled your eyes at his comment, a blush slightly coloring your cheeks. even though you knew he had a point, you’d never admit it.

“oh, hush,” you muttered, your voice soft. “don’t get too comfortable now. just because i agreed to help you plant some seeds, doesn’t mean i’m going to become a regular member of your gardening club or something.”

you leaned back on the bench, looking up at him with a mock-serious expression. “i have a reputation to maintain, you know. spoiled princess and all that.”

he chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. “oh, i know,” he replied, his voice low and teasing. “can’t have you getting too comfortable with dirt under your nails, princess.” the teasing was light-hearted, a playful jab at your usual pampered state.

he took a step closer, his body now blocking the sunlight, casting a cool shadow over your face. “but i still think you did really well,” he continued, his gaze roaming your face appreciatively. “who knew you had such a green thumb hidden under all that lace and silk?”

you rolled your eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. “yeah, yeah, whatever,” you muttered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips gave away your amusement. “if i’m doing so well, then you definitely owe me. you better buy me some ice cream after this because i need something to cool me off. i’m not built for this whole ‘getting my hands dirty’ thing,” you added with a playful glare.

crossing your arms, you raised an eyebrow at him. “besides, if i have to suffer through this, the least you can do is bribe me with something sweet.” your lips curved into a smirk, knowing full well that he wouldn’t deny your request. “so, deal?”

umemiya hummed thoughtfully, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he gave a gentle tug on your overall. “alright, princess,” he said, his voice low with amusement. “stand up, let's get this thing off you before you get too comfortable wearing something so... ugly.” his eyes gleamed playfully as he gestured for you to stand.

he reached for the straps, ready to help you out of the faded overall. “can’t have you losing your sense of fashion just because of a little gardening. besides,” he added with a smirk, “i don’t think you could handle staying in that thing much longer anyway.”

you rose to your feet, feeling a mixture of relief and mock reluctance. he was right, the overall did look ridiculously out of place on you.

“honestly,” you huffed dramatically, “i don’t know how you gardeners do it. how do you deal with all this... nature, all the dirt and... well, everything that's not designer clothes and fancy bags?” you extended your arm, letting him effortlessly slip off the overall, revealing the pretty sundress you were wearing underneath.

umemiya chuckled at your dramatic response, his eyes admiring your appearance as he slid the overall down your arms. “it’s not that difficult," he replied, his tone amused. “you just need to get past the initial shock of not being surrounded by luxury and fashion all the time.”

he stepped around to your back, gently folding the overall as he spoke. “besides, there’s something almost... therapeutic about working with your hands in the dirt. it connects you to something simpler, more real.”

you huffed playfully, crossing your arms and giving him a mock pout. “i think i’ll stick to being surrounded by luxury and fashion, thank you very much,” you teased, watching as he knelt back down to put your boots back on.

his touch was gentle as he slid the boots onto your feet, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch slightly. then, to your surprise, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your leg, just above the boot. the scent of your strawberry-scented lotion lingered in the air as his lips lingered for a moment, sending a shiver up your spine.

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though your voice had softened, the playful edge fading as a warm feeling spread through you. you bit your lip, trying to hide the small smile forming. “but i guess i’ll forgive you if ice cream is still on the table.”

he laughed softly as he looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and mischief. “of course, ice cream is still on the table, princess,” he assured you, his tone now low and seductive. “i wouldn’t dare back out of a promise.” he slowly rose back to his full height, his body now towering over yours as he looked down at your face. “but,” he purred, his voice almost a whisper, “there’s one condition.”

he leaned in a bit closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “you have to admit,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on your face, “you enjoyed yourself a little today, didn't you?”

he knew it was a risky move, but there was a certain thrill in teasing you like this, in attempting to coax a hint of vulnerability out of your spoiled exterior.

he placed a hand on your hip, his touch firm yet gentle. “i won’t give you the ice cream until you admit it,” he whispered, his lips hovering only a breath away from your skin. “come on, princess. just a little confession from you, and the sweet treat is all yours.”

you hummed teasingly, a playful smile spreading across your face as your fingers brushed against the fabric of his bofurin jacket. leaning in slightly closer, you met his gaze, your voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “well, maybe i did enjoy myself a little today,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“after all,” you continued, a teasing lilt to your tone, “i got to see all those biceps of yours working hard in the sun.” you let your eyes wander over his toned arms, glistening slightly with sweat, and added with a smirk, “i mean, how could i not enjoy seeing you look so sexy?”

you watched as a faint blush crept across his cheeks, and the satisfaction of teasing him brought a flutter of excitement to your chest. “so yes, i enjoyed it—mostly because of you,” you finished, leaning in a bit closer to let your words linger in the air between you.

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his eyes darkened with desire as your words hung in the air. he didn’t expect you to admit your enjoyment of the day so easily, and your playful banter sent a rush of heat through him.

he took one step closer, his body pressing against yours now, still slightly sweaty and smelling of earthy musk. “so you admit you were checking me out, huh?” he mused, his voice low and sultry. “admiring my biceps, you say?”

you hummed softly, your fingers trailing over his bicep, feeling the strength beneath your fingertips. “well, maybe i was checking you out,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “but that just means i have good taste.”

you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “how about we skip the dirt and take that ice cream to my room instead? it’s cold under the AC, and we can relax without worrying about getting messy.”

you arched an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “just you and me, enjoying some ice cream and each other’s company. sounds much better than this sweaty rooftop, don’t you think?”

a wicked smile curved his lips as he tilted his head slightly, his gaze traveling over your features, taking in the sultry look in your eyes. “hmmm, now that’s a proposition i can definitely get behind, princess.”

he brought his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. his hands began to wander, sliding up your back, their touch hot and firm against your skin. “let’s get out of here while we can,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

he bent slightly, scooping you up into his arms in a fluid motion. you were surprisingly light, your body molding easily against his chest. his muscles rippled under his shirt as he held you, a silent testament to his strength.

“i’ll take you to your room,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, “and we’ll forget all about plants and dirt for the rest of the afternoon.”

#hajime umemiya x reader #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya hajime #umemiya fluff #umemiya x you #umemiya hajime smut #wind breaker imagines #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker scenarios #wind breaker x you #windbreaker fluff #windbreaker headcanons #windbreaker imagines #wind breaker fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

The Quiet Ones 9

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: in the land of delulu.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Steam rises around you as you lower yourself into the water. It might be relaxing but your flesh doesn’t meet porcelain. Instead, you lay across the man who sighs beneath your weight. Just as soon as you recline, Lloyd’s arms are around you.

You flinch as he grabs his other arm and squeezes you close. You tense as he remains completely lax between you. He’s relaxed and confident. He knows he has control.

“Ah, jellybean, isn’t this nice?” He rocks you with him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this.” He’s right, you don’t. The more he talks, the more you suspect he’s been watching you for longer than you realise. And he talks a lot. “You and I. Happy. Together.”

He unclutches his hand and it wanders up your naked chest. Goosebumps rise at the reminder of your nudity. He’s the only person who’s seen you like this. He’s the last person you would want to. You squirm as you feel him harden beneath you.

His other hand walks to your thigh. He tickles your skin and pushes his fingertips firmly into your soft flesh. You shudder as his touch sends a tingle through you.

“So, since we’re doing this the not-so-fun way, how about a trip to Las Vegas? We can hit a drive-thru chapel then stop at the casino. Gamble a little, fuck a lot--”

“Vegas?” You echo. “I...”

“Oh, yeah, you’re classy, aren’t you, bean? Yeah, that’s not right. Vegas. For my wife. Did you know you can get married pretty easily in Hawaii. And it’s gorgeous,” he purrs. “You’ve never been to Hawaii.”

You wince. Each time he tells you how much he knows about you, you remember how little you know of him. Where did he come from? How did he find you? And what kind of man nonchalantly gasses someone one out after a whole stalking campaign? This is absurd. You just can’t believe it’s real.

As he fondles your chest, you’re assured that it is very real.

“Your heart’s racing,” he shifts his hand to spread flat above your tits. “You’re excited. Me too, bean. Me too. I promise, this ain’t just about the sex. Which I am very much rock hard about. No, jellybean, this is about us. About us expressing our love for each other. Sealing it. A pact to be together. Forever.”

He laughs. You might even call it a giggle. He nuzzles your hair and hums.

“Look what you’ve done to me. I feel like a teenager. I’m... I’m just... happy. I’ve never been more certain of anything, bean,” he purrs as he flutters his fingers down your stomach. “You know, I always thought marriage was stupid. Women, they were fun. Something to play with.” He pets your pelvis as he speaks. “I know, I know, I won’t mention the past. You don’t need to know about my mistakes. I was lost without you, jellybean. Stupid. Those women. Sluts. They mean nothing.”

You stiffen and catch his wrist. His splays his fingers, then curls them.

“I know, I’m getting impatient. Promise, I’ll be your good boy. I can wait.” He hooks his other arm around you. “Tell ya what. We’ll relax, get freshened up, then we can go book our flights, and look for a pretty dress.” He rambles on as you stare at the ceiling in horror. Everything you say is just a hurdle he easily jumps overs, “and some sexy lingerie. Only the best for my, bean, right?”

It’s a good thing he can’t see your face. As clueless as he is, you think your disgust would be all too obvious.

🩷

Lloyd has everything ready to go. Tickets, luggage you’ve never seen before, and even a passport. You never had a passport. You never travelled and you could never spare the money for the expense of it. That eerie suspicion rises again. How long has he been plotting to dismantle your entire life?

The question hardly matters. You can’t go back. He’ll make sure of that. He already has. What is there to go back to? An empty apartment and no job. You doubt the company will buy the ‘oh sorry, I was kidnapped’ excuse.

As unprepared you are for any of this, the airport is well beyond anything you can bare. As you enter, you’re struck by the sheer number of people and the noise alone is enough to make your ears itch. You stand in line with Lloyd, searching around for any sliver of hope. This is it. You get on that plane, and that’s the end.

You cover your ears as your head begins to pulse. Lloyd nudges you as the queue moves ahead of him and you pull your luggage along. He hands over the boarding passes and your IDs, then helps get the bigger bags onto a cart. He retrieves his phone and the passports and leads you off towards security with only your carry-on.

You shrink down as you’re crowded on both sides. Lloyd startles you as he rubs your back. You glance over at him with wide eyes.

“Once we get through security, we can head over to the diamond long, jellybean. Less crowded there,” he keeps his arm around you, “only the best for wifey.”

You turn your head straight and stare at the back of the stranger in front of you. You hate this. You never enjoy being among the general public but this is all too much. There’s so much sound and people and moving. It’s chaos.

You hold your breath until your eyes threaten to bulge. You slowly let air through your nose as your eyes flick back and forth. You want to run but there’s nowhere to go.

Lloyd ushers you forward and your feet drag. When it’s your turn, you walk through the scanner then stop for them to wave a wand around you. You wait as Lloyd collects his watch, phone, and wallet from the tray.

He comes to you and takes your carry-on from you. He directs you around as you look around at the people rushing by. Faces blur and voices blare. You only move in hopes of being free of this.

He leads you through a tunnel and the wall of noise fades behind you. You come into a lobby with a desk labeled Diamond Lounge. A woman greets you with a chirp but it’s much preferable to the chattering and yelling of before.

Lloyd shows your boarding passes again. The woman says something but you can’t discern her words clearly. You're tugged by your hand into another room.

The lighting is softer and the space is sectioned by leather seating and mounted televisions, and low tables. There are artificial fires set into the walls and pillows waiting on the cushions. You follow Lloyd to a couch and he sits you down beside him.

“Hey,” he puts his hand on your shoulder, running his thumb up and down, “jellybean, you okay? You look foggy.”

You look at him and cough. Your chest aches from holding your breath. You nod and sit back. His hand slips away from you.

“Bean?” He murmurs.

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Another woman in a white blazer similar to the one behind the desk appears. She pours two glasses of bubbly wine. You watch her and say nothing.

She leaves and Lloyd caresses your knee. You stare at his hand. The dress he put on you chafes. You want jeans and a tee shirt.

“I...” you begin hoarsely, “hate people.”

He stills his hand and covers your knee, “I know, baby. Me too. We’ll be okay. It won’t be so bad from here.” He drags his hand away and takes the stemmed glasses, “here,” he offers you one. “Cheers.”

You take it and hold it up. He clinks his against it but you do not drink. He sips but stops himself.

“This will be good for us, jellybean. Just think, a proper wedding would be overcrowded, overpriced, and overdone. You know,” he leans towards you and grins, “what I love about you, besides the fact that you’re gorgeous from head to tits to ass to toe, is that you like simple things.”

You blink at him and take a gulp. This isn’t just a flight or a shotgun wedding, this is your whole life. This man, this maniac, is never going to let you go.

“You need anything? You hungry? You want a blanket? You can relax, baby--”

You think about that more. He’s as good as giving you a life sentence. With him. It’s not just terrifying, it’s enraging. He’s enraging. He never stops.

“I need you to shut up,” you snap without thinking.

He recoils and his brows arch, “jellybean?”

Your mouth opens and you stare at him. You wait for him to explode. To say something. He just looks at you, stunned.

“I said shut up,” you repeat shakily.

“Oh? I’m sorry, bean. I know you get a bit stressed from everything going on--”

“Shut.” You trace a finger through the air, “up.”

He takes a breath then shuts his mouth. He nods and pouts. He bats his eyes at you and sits back. You watch him uncertainly. He just looks back at you. You turn your attention to the glass of wine and drain it.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

🩷

Every little girl, every woman dreams of their wedding. Don’t they?

No. Not you. Not ever. Never. Not in a million years. And to that man?

To your surprise, the plane ride is quiet. You have your first-class seat and a pair of earbuds and an almost worryingly quiet neighbour. Since you barked at him to stop talking, Lloyd has obeyed. The longer he stays silent, the more you worry.

Is he angry? You don’t want to care if he is but this man is dangerous even if he is ridiculous. He did gas you out of your former life.

You disembark and he gets the bags. All of them. He’s suffocatingly servile. He loads the rental car and opens the passenger door for you. The only words he utters are ‘jellybean’ or some other redundant pet name.

You chew your lip as you stare out the window. It’s gorgeous. It takes until that moment for reality to hit. You’re in Hawaii. You’re far away from home. Further than you’ve ever been. The beauty of the island battles with your displacement.

The hotel is just as immaculate as the rest of the scenery. Lloyd checks you in and sends for the bags. You go to the balcony and stare off at the ocean as he fumbles around the suite.��

“On its way?” He says into the phone. “Yeah, that’s great. And the minister? Mmhm, yes, right on the beach.”

You slump and cross your arms. You want to just fold into yourself. Maybe if you bash your head against the window...

“Jellybean,” Lloyd calls to you. You cringe at the glass doors and turn your head slightly. He approaches, almost demure in his posture. “I don’t want to ruin our special day but there are a few things we still need to get ready for tomorrow.”

You face him fully and stare. Now he wants your input?

“You know I love you, right, bean?” He says, his lips twitching. He smooths his mustache with his fingers then shakes his hand out. You don’t have an answer, just an endless stare. “I’d do anything for you.”

Love? Really? Right. He knows you as much as you know him. Not much. He might know about you, but he doesn’t really know you. And do anything for you or to you? Or to keep you? Because none of this is what you want.

“Your dress will be your something new, and something old is your ring. Did I mention it belong to Elizabeth Taylor?” He smiles sheepishly, “so you just need something blue... I was thinking a garter? And something borrowed...” He puts his hands together and wiggles free his pinky ring, “you can try it on? Or just put it on a chain.”

You squint at him. He’s crazy. That’s obvious but he really is. He thinks this is a dream come true. Not just his, but yours. This is an actual nightmare.

“Well...” he takes your hand and presses the ring into your palm. “I know you need to rest before the big day so there’s some wine and whatever in the mini fridge. I can get you some champagne? Or something else? Are you hungry?”

You shake your head and pull your hand from his. You turn away and look back through the window. You watch the coast and the peaceful lapping of water. You can’t be there right now, not mentally. So in your head, you’ll run out into the waves until they swallow you up. That’s much preferable.

“Jellybean,” he says, “I’ll shut up now.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the quiet ones #the gray man #au

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tyrantisterror · 1 month ago

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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:

youtube

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!

#At Sea Without a Map

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lostinforestbound · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! Could I request hcs from you on Rolan being jealous?

Absolutely! I had fun exploring this topic, so I hope you enjoy! This will be Rolan and a GN!Tav. To the people reading, Please feel free to add on to this and share your ideas!

Rolan and Jealousy

In Rolan's opinion, Jealousy is an improper and ugly thing to have; it sounds hypocritical when he gets jealous of a lot of things himself.

It's instinctive; his life has never been fair to him, and he never got to have what a lot of others do. It's deep rooted into his insecurity.

Loving parents? He wanted that, as his own family abandoned him. Food on the table? He wanted that too, why did he deserve to starve? Wizard Schooling? As an orphan, he never stood a chance of getting into one. No matter though, he doesn't need schooling! He's a prodigy!

Gods, he knows he shouldn't be jealous at all anymore, he will have everything he could ever want soon. It's unbelievably petty.

This jealousy starts extending towards Tav without him meaning to.

When they start taking interest in someone else, even if it's a simple conversation, his mind trails into the thought "That should be me."

As much of a loud, prickly person he is, he surprisingly says nothing about it. Instead is stews in his heart ready to burst, but he keeps it together.

Why is he so jealous if they're not even his partner? It's absurd and childish. Especially since he is unworthy of their attention. Once he has everything to provide for Cal and Lia, then he'll be worthy.

If Tav and him are together, it is a different story.

His jealousy is still quiet, but they notice how he holds their hand tighter when they speak to certain people. How his tail wraps around their calf. How he glares when other people decide to flirt with them.

Once he works on his own insecurity and Tav's reassurance that he's the only one for them, his jealousy starts fading away to nothing.

That doesn't stop him from playfully stealing them away from their companions with a "fuck off, they're mine".

Writing Blurb

When did he become such a prickly, bitter person? When, at some point of his life, did he become so jealous? Why is he so jealous of Tav, of all bloody people? Is it because they're a savior? That they saved his siblings where he couldn't? He should be grateful!

So why is he bitter, even though they saved everyone, including himself? Is he truly this entitled?

He doesn't see them approach him as he stews in his own thoughts. Usually he's not this insecure with himself, but he feels unworthy of them. He doesn't deserve them, not yet. The tower is not truly his, he has to refurnish everything to make it all of their homes. Cal and Lia love it so far, but there's still so much to be done.

Files need to be organized. All of the dealings fall on his shoulders now thanks to Lorroakan's demise. There's so much to do so he cannot truly have them yet-

His thoughts stop short when Tav kisses his cheek. "You're still dealing with these people? Don't you think it's time for a break?"

He subconsciously leans into the touch but stops when he realizes they pulled away. "I can't yet. There's too many-"

"You can do it later. Come have tea with me, or would you prefer some wine?"

He waves a dismissive hand, staring back down at the mess of papers in front of him. "I can't, Tav, they're all-"

A hand comes to his face, gently but firmly turning his head towards theirs. They don't say say anything at first, looking him straight into the eyes which makes him shut up instantly. He knows that determined look too well, and his mouth goes dry.

"You know I love you very much, right?" Before he could speak up, they continue on, "I'm already impressed with you. I don't need you to work yourself to death to prove you want to make this work. I love it here, and I love you. You shouldn't have to 'prove' anything to anyone, especially not to me."

"You're a savior-" Finger press to his lips before he finishes.

"I couldn't have done that without your help. Your arcane cannon saved my life that day. I thought I was done for until I called for your help," They state, pressing a kiss to his jaw then lips, "You're more than enough for me. Now, how about some reading and wine?" He closes his eyes briefly before that playful smirk returns, looking up at them. "I suppose if you want me to read to you that badly, I shall."

#rolan #bg3 rolan #forest-writes #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #holy rolan empire

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n0tamused · 8 months ago

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A/n: Not a one-shot but crack hcs! Hope you enjoy. I don't often write crack stuff but it is really fun when I get to it :)

Content: Dr. Ratio x Reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, no pronouns used, just crack overall, short and sweet

-While Ratio can have lots of patience for people of all walks of life, he has found a challenge within you and your form of intellect.. It would be arguably the first time Ratio has found himself in some form of a stumped state due to some of your questionable actions or phrases. He just has to sit back and wait for a moment until his brain sets itself back in place and he can think straight again

-He often scolds you, but no matter what he says it's like your brain translates it to something completely different, and even if his words are harsh you take it as if he complimented you and praised you to no end?

-Man is confused. To say the least

-Once he caught you losing nearly all your money against Aventurine, stating “third time's the charm”. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW POKER?! Even Aventurine was laughing along in all the confusion one can show without being odd, and he had to say he wouldn’t have taken the money, this was just a ‘friendly-fire’ sort of thing, he says. Well that’s lucky for you, considering you had rent and food to pay for!

-He drags you away while you jest about it and also apologize too, because he looks like he’ll explode

-Ratio may or may have not hit the top of your head with his codex..once or twice, but it’s all in good spirits - trust

-He really does mean well, especially if he seriously sees you struggling with something. He won’t hand you the answers on a silver platter unless it's a last resort sort of thing, but he would prefer to guide you to the answer, basically making you think outside the box and such until you arrive at the answer yourself. He is always open to advice and keeps an open mind, and with that he could entertain an idea you may have, yes.. even the more... silly ones. But also be ready to be shut down immediately for the absurd ideas you may bring up. He doesn't waste time nor does he like or plan to.

-Dr. Ratio is the voice of reason in your life, and he's there to reel you back to the ground when you may be getting ideas for something that would not benefit you, or god forbid - if you plan to do something risky that could harm you or your reputation.

-He often goes out of his way to make sure you’re doing things on schedule, so waking you up, sending you a message to eat (no crisps, go eat something good, something healthy), he’d send you articles about things he remembers interest you, papers on your favored topics

-A more tender thing he does is do your hair. It’s a simple thing yet it means a lot to him and you. Just a few minutes of quiet as his fingers thread or comb through your hair, brushing through it with meticulous moves, making sure he doesn’t pull or yank.

#dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #veritas ratio #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio x reader #gn reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #crack hcs #dr ratio headcanons #aventurine x reader #can you tell idk how to write crack stuff

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 month ago

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reading update: december 2024

it's here, baby! the final reading roundup of 2024, and the last nine books I read!

what I read:

The Daughters of Izdihar (Hadeer Elsbai, 2023) - I really want to get back into my big chunky fantasy novel kick, and this was a fun one! I will fully admit I almost got turned off by the first chapter or two when the worldbuilding exposition and the fantasy feminism didn't quite sell me right away, but I stuck around and ultimately had a really good time. Daughters of Izdihar follows two young women from very different social classes, Nehal and Giorgina, who are navigating their lives amidst a burgeoning suffrage moment in an Egypt-inspired country. on top of the class and gender of it all, we have the extra element of "weaving," with weavers having the ability to exert influence over different classical elements - think bending, but legally distinct. Elsbai's weavers are a nice change of pace re: fantasy discrimination, being neither universally adored nor reviled but rather occupying a unique, often precarious niche in society that is most fraught for poor women like Giorgina. I found myself increasingly pulled in to the story and delighted to have found such a fun standalone, only to reach the wiiiiild cliffhanger ending and realize it was the first book of a duology this whole time. and apparently the sequel has been out since March of 2024? cool cool cool cool cool cool cool. add another one to the TBR!

Rejection (Tony Tulathimutte, 2024) - I read Tulathimutte's short story "The Feminist" YEARS AGO and have been a little haunted by it ever since, so I was stoked to hear that it had been incorporated into this collection of loosely interconnected short stories. "The Feminist" was striking in its ability to so viscerally capture the inner workings of a deeply unpleasant person whose brain has been absolutely scorched by the nastiest workings of the internet, but I hadn't seen ANYTHING yet. I posted about "Ahegao" here and still can't rave about it enough; it's a slow burn into utter absurdity that ends with a swift kick to the head. to say nothing of Tulathimutte weaving himself into the narrative of the book and, ultimately, rejecting himself, including as the final piece of the book a fictional rejection letter offering scathing criticism of the previous works. reading it made me feel lightheaded; this book is so nastily brilliant.

Delicious in Dungeon Vol. 13-14 (Ryoko Kui 2023-2024, trans. Taylor Engel) - god, what a great story. Kui builds such a rich and (god, pardon the pun) flavorful world, with so much nuance and texture given to every layer. you won't find any unquestioned reliance on old high fantasy tropes here; it feels as if Kui has truly turned over every stone in the genre to poke at and play with what lays underneath to make something original. the exploration of desire and hunger and the ways in which food itself fundamentally inextricable from life got me so so good, and I'm going to be so emo about Laois and Marcille's freak asses forever.

Allow Me to Introduce Myself (Onyi Nwabineli, 2024) - one of the only strikeouts of December, to me. the premise is compelling, following a British Nigerian woman in her 20s who is struggling to crawl out from beneath the shadow of being raised in the public eye by a white stepmother who turned her interracial family into fodder for a highly successful mommy blog, but ultimately it falls flat for me. the book feels unfocused and unsure, meandering around until it comes to an ending that is, frankly, far too tidy.

Funny Story (Emily Henry, 2024) - this romance novel has been topping a LOT of lists of 2024's best romances and even making appearances on lists of 2024's best books overall, so needless to say I was afraid of the hype. to my absolute shock and delight, Funny Story actually managed to live up to the praise and then some, turning the seemingly outlandish premise (a man and a woman become roommates after they're each unceremoniously dumped so their exes can elope, lie about dating each other, romance ensues) and make it sincerely charming. our protagonists, Daphne and Miles, are shockingly grounded for the leads of such an unlikely story, and navigate their grief and subsequent half-assed fake relationship in ways that feel winningly believable. Daphne shines as she learns to stand on her own outside of the certainty her former fiancee provided, and Miles would be the singular most fuckable man in any romance novel I've ever read if not for his unfortunate dedication to wearing crocs all the time.

The Uclaimed: Abandonment and Hope in the City of Angels (Pamela Prickett and Stefan Timmermans, 2024) - a surprisingly tender work of narrative nonfiction that explores the lives and deaths of four individuals whose bodies weren't claimed by any next of kin, and what ultimately became of them after. Prickett and Timmermans treat their subjects with incredible care, going to great pains to speak with those who cared for their subjects and depict them as full people with worthwhile lives, examining the families they lost and the systems that failed them as they found themselves alone at the ends of their lives. a great read if you want to get really emo OR really mad about how the United States' exceedingly narrow legal definition of family leaves so many people unprotected in times of need!

Him (Geoff Ryman, 2023) - yeah this is the trans!Jesus book I read on Christmas that isn't even really about Jesus being trans but is about Jesus being sort of a softcore eldritch nightmare man living the most confusing and inscrutable life that anyone had ever lived. I don't know if this book is particularly accurate to either the Bible or the Torah and I truly don't think it matters; Ryman is doing his own thing and I love his little freak Jesus. genuinely I'm obsessed with that guy, nothing has ever made me like Jesus as much as watching him have the most terrible time.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In (John Wiswell, 2024) - god this book is so charming and so fun and it's a romp in so many places. I do really truly adore our protagonist, Shesheshen, who's an curmudgeonly shapeshifting goo monster with a penchant for building herself new body parts out of the spare bits of people that she's killed and eaten. she is, against all logic, crushing hard on a kind woman who recently saved her life while believing Shesheshen to be a human, and that woman has naturally turned out to be a monster hunter (evidently, perhaps, not the most astute one). there's so much gory whimsy here, and so much to like. and yet. and YET. it goes just a little too long for me (the novel is a strong candidate for a work that would have fared better as a pared down novella) and it is, in times, gratingly on the nose with spelling out "x behavior is abuse and abuse is Bad." still very fun though, solid B from me.

that's it!!! that's a wrap for 2024, I'll see you again at the end of January to check in and see how those book bingo sheets are coming along!

#reading updates

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jacquitries · 18 days ago

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A Bludger to The Head | O.W.

You've never really liked Quidditch but maybe a certain Gryffindor keeper would change your mind?

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

You’ve never really liked Quidditch. You have already attended quite a few games at the International Quidditch Tournament all thanks to your family but it almost always follows the same, boring, predictable pattern – whoever catches the snitch wins the game. It was absurd. Now that you’re attending Hogwarts, you didn’t think that idea would ever change. Hence, why you decided to stay with Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, awaiting any injured players to come from the very first game of the season. If memory served you right, it would have been Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.

“Thank you for helping out today, Y/N. It’s always a joy having you around.” Madam Pomfrey said as she took note of all the healing potions in her cabinet while you jotted everything down.

“It’s a pleasure. I’ve never been fond of Quidditch anyway.”

She stopped inspecting the healing potion in her hand and turned to face you. "Oh? Where is your school spirit? Back in the day, I used to dawn my house attire complete with face paint and all! Those were the glory days."

You chortled. "While it does sound like fun, Madam Pomfrey, I'd rather stay here in this glorious wing with you."

"Pish-posh, sweetheart. While I do love having you here, I could handle myself quite fine. It seems I would just have to ban you from this wing come the next game." She cheekily replied.

Your laugh was cut short as a player was suddenly wheeled in by a few other students.

“Madam Pomfrey! Our keeper’s hurt. He took a bludger to the head and passed out!” One of them spat. You and Madam Pomfrey quickly assessed his injuries. Other than the bruise that was forming on the right side of his head, he was in the all clear.

“Thank you, boys. We’ll take it from here.” Madam Pomfrey stated. As the boys left, you helped her transfer the unconscious player from the stretcher to the bed and took charge in dressing his head wound.

While you were wrapping up the last of his bandages, the boy finally stirred. He looked up at you and stared with hooded eyes. You were about to ask him how he was doing until he mumbled, “You’re the most beautiful angel I have ever seen.” You blushed as he slowly raised his right hand to your cheek.

You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing back. “And how many other angels do you know of?”

He stopped caressing your cheek in confusion. He bolted upright. His face contorted in horror as it dawned on him on not only what he has done but also to whom it was done. “I- I- I-… What I meant to say was…” He covered his face with both of his hands to hide his embarrassment.

It was safe to say this was not what he had in mind when he planned to finally speak to you in person. His life has always been about Quidditch, not noticing anything (or anyone for that matter) unrelated, until he saw you a few days ago on the courtyard before practice. You were paying no mind to the men swarming around you as you sat and kept your eyes glued to your book. Though you only gave them a smile and a wave as you left in return, all the men ate it up and, to be honest, he couldn’t blame them. He was smitten, too. He could not stop thinking about you that even his team began to notice his mind wasn’t 100% there during practice. The Weasley twins finally understood why after a bit of prodding and convinced him to put a fantastic display of keeping skills during the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game for you to notice him. Hitting his head with a bludger and accidentally confessing to you after passing out was definitely not the plan. He sighed and slowly looked up to face you. He should at least answer your question truthfully. “In all honesty, you are the only angel I know of.”

You couldn’t help but blush even more. Though you have been showered with compliments before, this was the first time you ever believed someone has said it so sincerely.

Knowing full well you may never give him the time of day again, he used all the courage he could muster after seeing you blush and rambled, “I’m… I’m usually much better at dodging bludgers but ugh… I was trying to find you by the bleachers with no luck–”

“–Oh. I uhm… don’t usually watch the games.”

“Ah, yes! Then, I guess I was lucky enough to find you in the hospital wing? Notwithstanding getting hit by a bludger, of course… Hah.” He replied as he sheepishly ducked his head.

Weirdly enough, you found the awkward silence right after to be endearing. You placed your fingers under your chin and decided to help him out of his misery. “Hmm. I could start watching your games to prevent the incident from happening again? However, I would love to know your name first.” You placed your hand in front of him for a handshake. I’m Y/N.”

You swear he could have had whiplash with how quick he jerked his head upward. He took your hand. “I- I would love that. I’m Oliver. Oliver Wood.”

You spotted red and gold movement at the corner of your eye. “Well, Oliver Wood, while it was lovely meeting you, I believe congratulations are in order.”

He quirked up his brow. “Hmm? For what ex–“

Suddenly, he was bombarded with shouts and cheers as his teammates ran up to him. You just had enough time to weave your way out of the chaos.

“We won, cap! We won against Slytherin!”

"Picking Harry was a damn good choice for seeker!"

“You should have seen the looks on their faces!”

“Flint was in shatters!”

While the Gryffindor team talked over one another, Oliver met your eyes across the room and shot an apologetic smile. You couldn’t help but smile back.

Maybe Quidditch isn’t so boring after all?

#harry potter imagine #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood #harry potter fanfiction

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anakinstwinklebunny · 1 month ago

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hey, so this might be kind of unusual/weird for an Anakin request (? more like a wish tbh), but I'll toss it in here in case you're interested or find this one fun

a fluffy (mostly) sfw thing about AOTC!Anakin who's gotten somehow teleported in y/n's reality (modern AU) having bonded with y/n over their time trying to figure out a way to get Anakin back safely

basically Anakin giving words of encouragement and appreciation and hugs and kisses to a person who's done so much to try and help him with this completely absurd problem even among the stressors of her own daily life that still goes on in the background

like a cute moment of the two just chilling one evening and him thanking her for everything in the best way he knows

+ canon typical awkward flirting maybe 👉👈 because he is kind of crushing on y/n, isn't he

Whenever you turned your gaze towards your window, all you saw was a soft, dreamy purple, streaked with gold while the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. You and ANAKIN SKYWALKER were sitting side by side on the couch, in such quietness and calmness that was too often a rare moment in your life ever since he'd stumbled into your reality. On your lap you held your tablet, scrolling through forums and articles with furrowed brows, hoping to find literally anything that could help

"You're too good at this," he said suddenly with voice warm yet low.

your lips curled into the softness smile "Too good at what? Staying up late to doom-scroll weird theories on the internet?"

"No," he shook his head, golden, short curls catching the light. "Too good at... everything. You’ve taken this insane situation and somehow made me feel like I’m not a complete disaster for being here."

You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder with yours. "I don’t think you’re a disaster, Anakin. Well… maybe not a complete disaster, anyway."

He chuckled, grin boyish and bright yet his expression so quickly softened. "I mean it, though," voice quieter now. "You didn’t have to do any of this. You have your own life, your own worries, and you’ve still gone out of your way to help me. You didn’t even freak out that much when I told you I was from… another galaxy, another time.." his thumb nervously digging into his second finger

You shrugged, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I figured if I could survive adulting and terrible coffee, I could survive you."

His lips twitched in amusement, yet his gaze stayed on you, uncharacteristically serious for someone like him "You’ve done more for me than anyone has in a long time. I just... I wanted to say thank you. For all of it."

His flesh hand brushed over yours, fingers curling tentatively around your skin, bringing it closer, to his lap, his long fingers stroking over your knuckles or the palm of your hand in repeat motion

"You don’t have to thank me," your tone soft, eyes gazing straight into his ocean ones then back at your connected hands "I couldn’t just leave you to figure this out alone. And besides…" you hesitated, suddenly shy. "I like having you here. Even if you do steal my phone charger and complain about modern plumbing."

He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes and immediately letting go of your hand to highlight his sudden state even more "You wound me, angel. I only complained once.." when you offered him a sceptically raised brow, he added "all right..twice"

You shook your head, laughing not so loudly. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re amazing," he countered without thought, only causing his ears to flush a faint pink. It looked like he was just caught red-handed, as if he may take it back, yet, he kept going nervously, shyly "I-i mean it. You… you’ve been a lot of things to me, but most of all, yo-u’ve been kind. And I, uh...i won’t forget that."

Before you could reply, he tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist in a hug that was both awkward and heartfelt. His chin rested lightly against the top of your head, and you swore the position wasn't the best, but being snuggled to the Anakin Skywalker, repaid everything.

For a moment, neither of you dared to say anything. Just being wrapped in his young arms, ear right where his heartbeat was settled, gave you a peacefulness you've been missing through these days. And of course, your nose couldn't help but pick up the faint smell of your body wash he had stolen this morning - men..

"Anakin," you murmured after a moment, cheek resting against his chest.

"Yeah?" voice hesitant.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, hand still lightly resting on his chest. "You’re not so bad yourself, you know."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne

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wardingshout · 28 days ago

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Since I didn't draw anything for like half of 2024 I did an updated colour wheel instead! featuring only the newest of stuff I could find that fit.

I have also compiled a dump of many thoughts I want out of my head, like a little text post dump I guess. the tldr I guess I will just make "thank you".

Putting the most important thing first here which is. Every single time I catch myself thinking "no I need to draw smth other than alttp" a couple of very specific tags and messages pop into my head and I get so fired up to draw more alttp !!! the power I feel from that!!!!!

IIIIII feel like there used to be a way to do linebreaks but I can't remember how so my new text bit divider is random crap I can find lying around in my files

Ok here goes me being dramatic about something that only matters to me but feels so very important to get out for the sake of others too. I guess the gist of it is that tumblr is a rly important place to me and I'm so endlessly grateful for people always being so nice. at the end of the day I don't think I really care about much else in life than drawing and getting to share it with others makes it a much less lonely experience for me. I mostly just for myself, but I'm so grateful for the extra joy associated with posting it online too.

I feel a bit bad I can never seem to give back the kind of nice energy you guys give me. despite how much joy this place brings me, I'm just a naturally anxious person and I often chicken out of doing things myself. I'm so endlessly happy that people still bear with me or at least stick around to look at my art.

thanks to people's kindness I often find myself breaking out of the anxiety and getting a lot closer to initiating stuff myself, but I always get run over by some kind of irl issue instead, usually mental, but recently also physical health. I had so much fun on here this summer especially and I was so certain that this was the time I would make it last only for irl stuff to yet again show up and knock me out completely. every time that happens I feel like I have to rebuild whatever social bravery I had aquired from the beginning again and at this rate I won't ever get anywhere.

after weeks of very few work days, I feel like I'm finally rebuilding the courage to post and the concentration to manage drawing at all. it's not a lot of progress but I can feel it growing. from tomorrow it's back to full time work with no other breaks in sight and I'm scared my groove will be cut short already... I like my job but I've acknowledged I just can't thrive with full time work. I can bear it fine though, but it doesn't leave energy for much else in life.

I think the point here is. I know it's just social media but I've had so many good experiences on here and they're really precious to me. I hope one day I can be well enough to be that kind of influence for others too. my activity with art and presence online has become surprisingly reflective of how well or bad I'm doing irl, so I never I never want to give up on become a more present person.

the most important thing is art though, so finding the courage to get back to posting even if it's all I do, makes me happy too. thank you so much to everyone else who posts are too. I'm endlessly excited about all the cool things I get to experience and see online, thank you!

it is absolutely absurd how many drafts I have of just very frustrated moments where literally all I type is "if I have to be sick one more time I will lose my absolute mind holy shit" and having just been sick again? really feeling that !!!! it's also like. frustrating to feel you're making progress mentally and then you constantly get knocked into bed by phsyical health instead like come on I'm finally learning how to get Out of that place... and then every time you get sick, routunes have to be rebuild all over after, it suuuuucks....

I finally got a PC which has been absolutely life saving, However. I am still drawing on tegaki only... I'm so excited I can get back to bigger works on csp but I've gotten so used to seeing only my tegaki stuff, I'm scared of how much I'll suddenly hate my art when I see it differently again... hating your own art is probably a feeling that will never disappear but even so. I think I'm at a pretty content place right now and I'm worried about shaking it up. I can't let something like that knock me down when I'm only finally getting back to drawing regularly again... I already copied over the palette for some comfort so hopefully I can find a brush that feels similar too! at least I'm super excited about getting to pick some more colours !

and a very belated tag game thing !! I completely lost the original post by now but it was from @lele5429 and I've had it in my drafts this whole time, so better late than never to fill it out!

Last song: Alt Hvad Jeg Vil by Von Quar

Fav colours: warm yellows or light oranges!

Last book: switching between Assassin's Quest and Our Wives Under The Sea!

Last movie: The Princess Bride I think?? it was long ago so I feel like I'm forgetting something else though...

Last tv show: my roomie and I binged Twin Peaks season 3 as well as most of True Detective over christmas break we went Ham

Sweet/spicy/savoury: sweet !!

Relationship status: not interested

Last thing I googled: "nosferatu rats"... I see.....

Current obsession: alttp auish shenanigans... this one has not changed since I first drafted my response to this... on one hand I feel like I'm just filling out the gaps between games, but on the other it's getting very close to full au stuff... I always wanted to draw comics but had no ideas and for the first time in my life I'm drowning in ideas and fully held back by fear and skills haha

Looking forward to: actually surprisingly nothing at all? I'm looking forward to whatever good times I can create for myself I guess. the last few things I was looking forward to didn't go so well, so maybe it's nice to have nothing but the most normal and boring daily life ahead haha

#text #THAT'S A LOT OF TEXT there's honestly no reason to bother with all my yapping but I feel happy I could finally put some stuff into words #and hide it among other things too haha #might also. dump some art to hide this instantly after posting.......

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alicerosejensen · 2 years ago

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In short, I thought about it most of the night and made some notes on my phone.

I'm still translating part 3, but while I'm on vacation and have enough free time, I want to write headcannons.

specifically the jealous Leon. He is almost forty and his girlfriend is just over twenty. Don't get me wrong. I share moderate jealousy and excessive jealousy. For me, these are different things, so "WARNING! if you don't like reading this, just skip this post.

You have an absolutely healthy relationship (as far as possible with Leon's psyche). You don't give him any reason to doubt your loyalty to him.

He considers himself too "old" for all these hangouts, preferring to spend time in peace and stability after a long mission, but you are a young girl who wants to have fun with friends from time to time (among which there are guys).

Leon has nothing against your entertainment and does not interfere with communication with others. Although, some selfish part of him wants you to spend more time with him, but he won't talk about it out loud.

Of course, he understands that others may like you too. You see, Leon still doesn't understand what you saw in him when you could date someone of your peers. It all started as a silly joke, and then you both wanted more from communicating with each other. And it's not just about sex.

You took care of Leon when you stayed at his place overnight, and in the morning you made breakfast with coffee, asking if you brewed it too hard. And while Leon is having breakfast, you always kiss him on the back of the head. Something that Ada or anyone else has never done.

After that, the cute attentions from you mean too much to Leon. He is a bit old-fashioned and will probably ask for official consent if you want to be in a relationship with him, despite his frequent absence and age difference.

“Do I need to sign some kind of agreement? Like, yes, I agree on all points to become your girlfriend? Signature and today's date?“ - You laugh with Leon, adjusting the shirt you stole from him in the morning when he says that he does not have such a paper and an oral agreement will be enough.

Leon will in no way publicly cover his personal life because of his work. Putting you in potential danger is not what he wants at all. Yes, he is happy to spend time with you, but if someone asks him about your relationship, he will say that there is nothing serious about it. Just a girl who agreed to spend the night with him. And only the closest (and there are almost no such people at all, so the circle narrows down to Claire, Helena and, perhaps, then Hannigan) will know about his real attitude towards you.

He also likes to take care of you. In general, he will gladly take a shower with you, soaping his head with shampoo after which he makes funny hairstyles so that he can laugh with you about it later.

He takes care of you if you have a painful period / you have a cold / just not in the mood. To show reciprocal care for a partner is a joy to him.

He won't show any signs of jealousy until you tell him that the main character of the movie/series is too gorgeous and you wouldn't mind marrying him.

Of course it's a joke. He understands it himself, but it hurt him unpleasantly.

It will never go to the point of absurdity. It's just that Leon doesn't quite like it when he accidentally sees you in correspondence with a friend discussing some cute actor/model/singer or other public personality admiring his beauty and charisma.

"Come on, he's not that good!" - in the end, he can't stand it when he's already in bed with you.

“Who?" - You ask innocently, stupidly blinking your eyes and looking straight at Leon.

“That guy from the movie. You can't do this trick in real life, it's a fucking special effect. And anyway, you don't like him, but the one he plays. I doubt he's ever held a real gun in his life.”

After that, Leon will lie down on the other side, leaving you completely perplexed.

It's stupid to be jealous of the handsome guy from the movie, he knows it himself. He just thinks that his age can still become an obstacle to your relationship, especially when he is often not at home and he is so much attached to you.

However, if some brat decides to start flirting with you thinking that "a lonely young girl needs company" Leon will immediately appear out of nowhere grabbing you by the waist and taking you with him.

At the same time, he will send a scathing look to the man.

Sometimes Leon can be very sarcastic towards you, but then he himself will feel guilty for it.

I think the longer he is in a stable relationship, the stronger his love for his partner becomes, and he doesn't care how much younger you are!

He loves you, and the thought that you might leave him for someone else bothers him. Therefore, sometimes Leon takes flirting with guys with hostility.

He is not one of those who will make a scandal out of the blue, but most likely will hold an explanatory conversation with you at home.

He just wants to make sure that your relationship with him is not a fun game for you.

Maybe he just took a friendly conversation like that, but you don't consider a conversation with a friend to be flirting.

It will be done professionally and unnoticeably (until morning), but Leon will leave you noticeable marks. How were you supposed to know that a sweet kiss on your neck would turn into a hickey?

Pretty hard to hide if it's summer or spring outside.

But Leon doesn't regret judging by his smug grin.

You're his woman. Of course you have complete freedom of action, but that asshole will know that you have someone and there is nothing to bother with an invitation to a date.

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #Leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #re #resident evil headcanons #headcanon #leon kennedy headcanons #reader

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sissylittlefeather · 1 month ago

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If I Can Dream: Chapter 6

A/N: Christmas is about to kill me, y'all. Have a chapter of Jo for your Christmas Eve! Love you guys! (Another one might be coming very soon so stay tuned!)

Need to get caught up? Masterlist HERE.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, smoking

Word count: ~2.3k

“And you're right.” He mumbles into her neck. “But I'm not just scared; I'm fuckin’ terrified.”

“I know. It's okay.” She turns and puts her arms around him, kissing his forehead gently.

******

Jo flops around in her bed for about 6 hours and then gets up for work. It's amazing how quickly she got used to having Elvis beside her as she sleeps. She puts on her black skirt and red sweater with boots and heads into the office.

For about 9 more hours, she bounces between staring at her word processing machine and the clock, anxious for the end of the day to come. She wonders if he's thinking about her, or if he's realized their tryst was fun, but unrealistic to continue. In some ways, it does seem a little absurd to meet someone and love them so fully and so completely in such a short amount of time. But she knows what she feels and she knows he has to feel something similar. He's everything she ever dreamed he would be and more. She just has to convince him not to let his fear get the best of him.

******

Elvis wanders around the house after Jo leaves looking for traces of her: her glass in the sink, her makeup on the pillowcase, a lipstick kiss she left on his mirror. When he looks at the lip print, he catches his reflection and doesn't cringe for once. There's a light in his eyes that hasn't been there for years. He knows why it's there.

Then he remembers that he sent her away, turns from the mirror, and goes to bed. He sits on the edge of it staring down at the pills in his hand. Does he need them? He hasn't in days. But that was because she had been there, a constant reminder that he had a reason to try to live without them. He carries them into the bathroom and looks at the other bottles, the ones that he takes to get through the day. There's no way he can stop taking all of them just cold turkey like this, but he can cut back. Or he could if she was there. He drops the handful of pills into the toilet and flushes it. Sleeping is nearly impossible, but when he closes his eyes and imagines her next to him, he's able to get a couple of hours.

He drags himself out of bed around 1pm the next day. The Colonel shows up to discuss the New Year's Eve show he's arranged in Michigan. Elvis half listens and hopes he doesn't agree to anything too drastic. On his way out, Colonel Parker corners Jerry.

“He's distracted. What's wrong?” The Colonel gives him a cold stare and Jerry swallows hard.

“He met a girl.”

“He meets girls every day.” Jerry shakes his head.

“No, you misunderstood. He met a girl.” The Colonel looks at him sharply.

“What kind of girl?”

“A good one. She's good for him.” Jerry squares his shoulders defiantly, ready to go to bat for Jo if he has to.

“Hmm. Should I be worried?” Jerry shakes his head, shaggy hair moving wildly.

“No. She might save him.” The Colonel nods and walks out the front door.

Elvis looks at his watch. 2:30pm. Only an hour and half until she comes home.

Home?

Home.

******

At 3:45pm, Jo is ready to crawl out of her skin. She wants to leave so badly to see Elvis. Weirdly, the receptionist comes to her and tells her she has a phone call. She puts out her cigarette and follows the older lady to the phone. Who on earth would call her at work?

“Tink?” His smooth baritone cuts straight to her soul.

“Elvis! Why are you calling me at work?” She's absolutely beaming, trying to keep her voice even.

“Missed ya. But also I wanted to tell you to…” He trails off and Jo can feel him losing his nerve.

“To what, babe?” She hears him sigh.

“To pack some clothes before you come over. I wanted to see if you might wanna stay… for a while…”

“I would love to.” He brightens instantly, so much so that she can practically hear it through the phone.

“Well okay then! I'll see you in a little bit. I love you, honey.” She smiles.

“I love you too, Elvis.” They hang up and the receptionist stares at her.

“Was that really Elvis Presley?” She asks flatly. Jo considers lying for a bit, for his sake, and then decides against it.

“Yeah. It was.”

“Mkay.” Jo nods and starts to walk away. She hears the receptionist whisper under her breath. “Lucky bitch.”

******

When Jo knocks on the door with her suitcase, Elvis actually answers it himself. He grabs her around the waist and kisses her like they've been apart for months.

“Wondered when you'd get here.” He presses his forehead to hers.

“Well, I had to go pack, didn't I?” She gestures to the suitcase and he picks it up to bring it inside.

They settle into dinner, both of them avoiding the inevitable conversation that they started last night. Finally, when there's no more food or ice cream or anything else to distract them, Elvis clears his throat and lights a cigar. They're settled in the TV room, but there's nothing playing on any of the screens.

“Is this a conversation I need to be smoking for?” Jo asks tentatively. He smiles a little and she reaches for his cigar, taking a drag and handing it back to him.

“Tink, I spent the whole day thinking about it.” She expects him to go on, but he doesn't. Her heart is in her throat.

“And what did you come up with?” He lets out a puff of smoke and looks at her.

“I can't stand being without you.” She smiles. “But I have no idea how we make this work.”

“What do you mean?” Now it's her turn to take the cigar.

“Well, I'm not going to change anything about my life. I really can't. And you have a whole life of your own. I can't ask you to uproot all of that just to be with me. What if we… don't… what if it ends? And then what?” She smokes for a bit in silence and then speaks softly.

“What if I die tomorrow?” He blinks and his eyes flash with something he's not ready to admit.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, honey?”

“What if I'm driving to work and one of those big trucks hits my car and I die?”

“Don't even talk like that.” He takes the cigar back, gritting his teeth.

“What if it happens in three years? What if you die?” Elvis is visibly uncomfortable with the way this conversation is going.

“You better make your fuckin’ point, Tink.”

“We have no idea what might happen tomorrow. Or in three years. All we have is right now. You can't live your life thinking about all the ways it can go wrong. What kind of adventure would that be?”

“No kind.” She takes the cigar.

“Exactly. So now I'm gonna ask you this. How do you wanna live your life right now?” Elvis looks at the woman in front of him: the one who ran on stage and then threw paper airplanes over the wall to get to him and make sure he was okay, the one who made him leave the house for the first time in too long, the one who convinced him to jump into a freezing pool and then made love to him even when he thought he couldn't, the one who brought him back to life and shows him every second that it's worth living.

“With you.” He reaches out and cups her cheek and she smiles and leans into his hand like a cat. She takes another quick drag and then kisses his palm.

“Then why do we need this big plan? Let's just live and be together until we can't anymore. Isn't that better?” He takes the cigar and puts it out in the ashtray. Jo isn't sure whether she should cry or not, so she just sits and watches him.

“You never cease to amaze me, honey.” He pulls her into his lap straddling his thighs and kisses her lips gently. Then he whispers. “Let's be together until we can't anymore.”

“Yes…” She giggles and nods. He kisses her again with more urgency this time and on the third kiss, both of their mouths are open as their tongues dance wildly against each other. She rolls forward, pushing her skirt up her thighs and presses herself against him. He moans softly into the kiss and grabs her ass with both hands, pulling her in as close as she can get. Reluctantly, she breaks the kiss. “Should we go upstairs?”

“Why?” He kisses her neck and drags his tongue up to her ear– a move he hasn't tried in years. She groans as he nibbles on her earlobe.

“Well, I'd like to do more than just kiss you-”

“We're on a perfectly good couch.”

“Elvis.”

“Tink.” He lifts her up and flips her over so that he's on top of her. “I had this couch made deep like this for a reason.”

“I'll try not to think about how many women you've had on this couch..” She giggles as he kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

“Smart girl. But I have to say, you're my favorite.” He lifts her sweater over her head and off, tossing it across the room. His lips drift down her chest to the place where her bra meets her skin. He gently pulls the cup down and slips his tongue around her nipple. Her back arches as he pulls it into his mouth and then releases it, moving over to her other nipple. “I want this off, honey.”

She nods, sitting up a little to unfasten her bra and take it off. He grunts when he sees her breasts bounce free, leaning down to kiss and nibble her soft skin.

“I bet you say that to all of us.” She lets out a small half-laugh. He stops and pulls back, looking down at her seriously.

“No, I mean it, Tink. I don't think I want any more. Just you.” She holds her hand up to the side of his face and traces the line of his brow down to his jaw and up to his lips. He kisses her fingertips and waits for her to speak, but she doesn't. She just runs her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder, finally landing at the middle of his chest under his necklace and directly above his heart, her eyes following the path she makes with her hand. He starts to get nervous that he's said something wrong. “Say something, honey.”

Her eyes flit back up to meet his clear blue ones and she opens her mouth, but closes it again.

“What is it?” Now he's really worried. She's never been speechless before. Finally, she speaks so softly he can barely hear her.

“I don't know how to tell you that I think I was meant for you without sounding like I'm crazy.”

“Oh, honey. If you're crazy, then so am I.” He dives into a deep and passionate kiss as she pulls at his clothes, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders and shirt over his head and off. He yanks her skirt down her legs, tearing at her panties with a fire he hasn't felt in years. The need to be close to her is so strong, it overwhelms any sense of doubt or apprehension as she pushes his pants down just enough to free his erection. The next thing he knows, he's on top of her with his cock sliding in and out of her as she whimpers and moans and claws at his back. He groans with the sensation of her wrapped around him as he pounds her with a fervor he didn't know he still had. The heat of their passion is matched only by their love for each other.

“Oh God, Elvis.” She moans in his ear as he hits her g-spot at a relentless pace. Her legs wrap around his waist and he grunts with the change in angle. Their skin burns with sweat in the places where it meets and she whimpers as she feels her climax approach. “Oh fuck!”

Her body shakes involuntarily as her orgasm slams into her like a freight train, rushing through her with the speed and intensity of a lightning bolt. She clings to him as he continues to rut into her while she cums, her pussy throbbing and pulsing around his dick.

“Goddamn, Tink, honey, I love it when you cum.” He moans and slams into her one last time, pressing his forehead to hers as his cock twitches and fills her with warmth.

They lay there, both of them trembling in the aftershocks of their orgasms. He kicks his pants all the way off and then rolls onto his back to settle her against his side with her leg and arm thrown over his body.

“Move in with me.” He whispers into her hair. She picks her head up and looks into his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Move in here and we'll be crazy together. You are my big adventure, honey. Live with me.” He holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger as he talks.

“I'm gonna need to pack more than that little suitcase.”

“So that's a yes?”

“That's a fuck yes, babe.” He giggles and tickles her sides excitedly and they laugh together on the big-enough couch, naked and unafraid of the future… for now.

******

What next?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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