#not typically something that would go here but like

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[mywhisperingwords]

a touch that never hurts | fred g. weasley

summary: you seem to have fallen for your best friend, which you could handle if only he didn’t constantly touch you word count: 3.2k masterlist

It was official: you were stupid.

Only a complete idiot would fall for their best mate and here you’ve gone and done it. Because there was no other explanation for this feeling in your stomach as you looked across the Great Hall and watched Fred Weasley tell some stupid joke to his friends and wishing nothing more than to be the one he told the joke to.

He wasn’t even supposed to be here; just earlier today, Snape had given him detention.

While working on the assigned potion, he decided to mix things up to make you laugh after your bad day.

Before class started Snape decided to ruin the day and give everyone’s essays back. You flunked. Hard. After a big explosion and an awful lecture from Snape, any of Fred’s afternoon plans were ruined. For you.

You stood there, frozen in shock, trying to figure out how to go on with your life from here.

But how could you? This realization felt like the worst thing that’s ever happened to you—right after becoming friends with Fred Weasley himself.

You must’ve stood frozen in place for too long because he caught your eye and was now waving you over with his typical charming smile while the people around him were continuing their conversation, oblivious to the turmoil inside you. You briefly considered turning around and running away, but you decided against it. That would make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Taking a deep breath and mustering a wobbly smile, you made your way over to the Gryffindor table. You exchanged greetings with your friends and headed toward a seat, hoping to get as far away from Fred as you could. But, of course, Fred had other plans. With a grin, he shoved Lee aside and proudly declared the seat next to him as free.

Bloody hell, he was making it hard for you. It’s as if he knew and wanted to torture you now that you had finally realized your true feelings. Feelings that didn’t actually exist; denial was your new best friend.

With no other choice, other than making this one hell of an uncomfortable situation for everyone, you reluctantly sat down next to him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

But to no avail. As soon as you sat down Fred swung his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “Thank Merlin you’re here. Could you be a darling and tell our idiotic friends that Snape does in fact secretly love me and that is the only reason he so often chooses to see me after class?”

‘Darling’ and ‘secretly loves me’, seemed to be the only thing your brain registered, not to mention that arm still wrapped around you. Has he always been this physically affectionate with you? It was hard to remember because Fred was looking at you expectantly as if he were waiting for something and…

Finally, your brain catches up, “Oh, that my dear Fred, is what we call detention. And wouldn't you know it, you're supposed to be there... like right now!" You playfully glanced at your imaginary wristwatch.

You could practically see the second he realized you were right. In a hurry, he jumped up from his seat and snatched the last food from his plate. But there was something important he seemed to have forgotten.

With a grin, you asked him, "Aren't you forgetting something?" Confusion washed over his face as he turned back to the table, searching for what he had missed, not finding anything. After a brief moment, he leaned down and surprised you with a kiss on your cheek. Speechless and mouth agape, you watched as the rest of the table erupted in snickers.

"You git!" you exclaimed, feeling your cheeks burn. "I meant your wand!"

Instead of being flustered like you, Fred found the whole situation hilarious. He joined in laughter with his friends and sent you a playful wink. With a glint in his eye, he swiftly retrieved his wand and innocently exclaimed, "Oops!" before making a speedy exit from the Great Hall.

Still trying to process what just happened, you turned to your friends, hoping they could provide the distraction and peace of mind you desperately needed.

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, George decided to torture you. With a grin, he leaned in and asked if you've figured it out yet. Your whole body tensed up, and you found yourself desperately wishing for an escape.

In your horrified state, you managed to stammer out a weak, "W-What?" The anticipation of his response hung heavy in the air, and you braced yourself for the worst.

George burst into laughter, which echoed through the Great Hall, making everything feel ten times worse. You couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if your deepest secrets were on display for everyone to see.

Through his laughter, George managed to squeeze out, "Bloody hell. Looks like someone forgot the essay for McGonagall that's due tomorrow."

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that he had no idea. How could he? You yourself just figured it out. And you’d do anything to keep it that way. You won’t tell a soul about any of it and just pretend that things were normal.

✧

How naive could you be? How in your right mind could you ever think that keeping this from Fred was a possibility?

He knew you better than you knew yourself.

No matter how hard you tried to keep things like always it just wouldn’t go your way. First everything was completely normal, nothing out of the ordinary. You two would banter and share jokes. But as soon as he touched you in any way you panicked and run away from him.

You hadn’t realized how often he reached for you. It apparently had become like second nature for him.

At first you noticed the small touches, like accidentally bumping shoulders while walking together or him gently tapping your arm to get your attention.

But it was the larger gestures that pushed you to your breaking point, stirring up your traitorous heart even more. Like when he reached out and grabbed your hand in the bustling crowd of students during a visit to Hogsmead.

But the absolute worst was when he would slide in next to you, casually drape his arm around your shoulder and pull you close, all while effortlessly engaging in conversation with someone else. And what made it even more unbearable was that no one seemed to bat an eye. It was as if this physical closeness was an unspoken agreement between the two of you, that no one remembered to inform you about.

But as much as you tried to subtly keep your distance you could tell that Fred knew something was wrong. He saw it in the way you would purposefully choose to sit the furthest away from him even when the seat next to him was unoccupied.

You saw the confusion in his eyes when you started to avoid going to Hogsmead with the excuse of finishing your school work. He knew that this was never something that stopped you from spending time with him or your friends.

Since that first year you met Fred on the train, he’d been a constant presence in your life. You stumbled upon Fred and George pulling a prank on their older brother Percy. Instead of telling on them, you decided to join in on the mischief. As a result, Percy ended up with boils all over his face. From that moment on, you and Fred became inseparable. So, when you suddenly started pulling away without any explanation, it felt like the most awful thing you could do to him.

And you could tell that it was hurting Fred too. He wasn't the type to wear his heart on his sleeve; in fact, quite the opposite. But after all the years you've known him, you were priding yourself on understanding him better than most people in his life. He would never outright admit it, but your actions were causing him pain.

He would extend his hand, reach out, but as soon as he noticed that you turned away from him, he would pull back. In that fleeting moment, you could see the hurt and confusion reflected in his eyes, mirroring the hurt you were experiencing.

He even attempted to talk about it once. Normally, he would rely on laughter to uplift your spirits rather than delve into the realm of emotions. So when he approached you before your class, specifically to ask if you were okay, it created an awkward conversation for the both of you. All you could do was promise him, that if anything was wrong, you’d tell him.

What a lie.

His genuine concern shattered your heart. But it wasn't just him who could sense that something was off. You noticed how your friends would exchange worried glances every time you came up with a new excuse to avoid spending time with Fred.

Being around him became an unbearable risk, fearing that he might somehow discover your true feelings for him. It wasn’t just a simple crush; your feelings ran deeper, more intense.

Every time you witnessed his infectious laughter or his ability to light up the entire room with his jokes, a swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, consuming you from within. The guilt of keeping such a significant secret from him and the rest of your friends gnawed at you. But the thought of confessing your feelings and potentially jeopardizing everything held you back.

It has gotten to the point where you chose to spend your free time in the library. You knew that he would never step foot inside of it. So this place became your sanctuary.

But you should’ve known better. Fred Weasley may not be an overly emotional person but he was stubborn to no end.

One night after dinner, that ended with you leaving the table as soon as possible and an excuse, truthful this time, to do your unfinished homework you returned to the only place that felt safe from Fred.

There were only a few students left in the library. You grabbed your Charms Book and settled into a quiet corner, hoping to review your homework for Professor Flitwick.

But your silence was soon disturbed by the one person you wanted to avoid. Which was not entirely true.

The situation hurt, but you couldn’t help wanting to see him — even if only from afar.

Fred appeared to be searching for you because the moment your eyes met, he marched over to where you were sitting.

"Back to doing homework, huh?" he asked, glancing at your table.

"Actually, yes," you replied honestly.

“Oi, sod off. I know you mostly just sit here doing nothing — Lee saw you, you know?” he said.

“I don’t know what Lee thinks he saw but that’s not the truth. This is a library. I study,” you argued.

“Listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me. And I have no idea what I could’ve done. You’ve been blowing me off left and right. You’re being pretty obvious and I think it’s time we had this discussion.”

You stared at him, eyes wide open. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already told you, everything is fine.”

“Come off it! We’ve been friends for years and I know when something’s off. You’ve been avoiding me and you have been for weeks. I’m done pretending like I don’t know that. And things aren’t fine since you won’t tell me what it is. What’s this really about?” his voice was low, but you could feel his anger seeping through.

But you couldn’t tell him; too much was at stake. You’d lose your best friend. Even the thought alone was too much to bear.

“Fred, please. I just… I can’t explain it to you,” you pleaded.

“Why the hell not? I’m your friend!” You appreciated his concern, but his persistence was becoming overwhelming. “If everything truly was fine you wouldn’t be hiding here all the time! What’s going on?” he demanded, clearly just wanting answers, answers you couldn’t give him.

“I really can’t tell you. Please, I’m begging you, let it go.” Keeping this from him was killing you. You felt awful holding this secret from him. Deep inside you entertained the notion that he felt the same, but doubts held you back. It was pain-filled hiding something so important from a person that meant so much to you. You wished that he felt the same way, but fear gripped you tight.

Fred's anger was palpable, evident from the fury etched on his face. Madam Pince was shooting both of you disapproving glances. You secretly hoped that she would kick you out, giving you an excuse to escape this conversation.

“No, I’m not giving up. I deserve answers and I’m not leaving until I get them, understood?” He defiantly took a seat right in front of you.

You remained silent, refusing to speak another word. The more he pushed, the harder it became to keep this from him.

“I’ve got all night. Nowhere else to be,” he stated, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you. Still refusing to speak, you turned your attention back to your essay, hoping he would eventually relent.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence. His voice now calm and his expression blank. No trace of anger or irritation. It almost seemed like he had come to accept the situation.

“Maybe this is for the best. You clearly don’t want to talk to me, so I’ll guess I won’t bother you anymore,” he said in a monotone voice, before he abruptly stood up and started to walk away, not looking back once.

Hot panic was surging through your veins and in an instant you jumped up, to go after him. Realizing that you were about to lose him either way, you took a chance.

“I like you!” The words echoed through the quiet library, their volume seemingly too loud for the stillness around you. He paused in his tracks, but didn't turn around. Unable to see his reaction, you continued, thinking maybe it was better this way, shielded from the potential disgust his face might reveal.

"I like you, and I'm really sorry, okay? I just need some time to sort things out and get over these feelings. I promise, but right now, I can't be around you. Not right now. That's why I've been avoiding you. Please, please don't hate me," with every word, your desperation spilled out, raw and unfiltered, while your eyes began to burn.

As Fred slowly turned around, his expression was unreadable, and it felt like everything was falling apart. Immediate regret was filling you up. Maybe, if you would’ve stayed silent and kept on ignoring what was going on inside of you, there would have been a chance to mend the friendship later on. But now, it felt like it might be too late.

���You like me?” he asked, his voice filled with bewilderment.

“Please, don’t make me say it again,” you pleaded, feeling overwhelmed by the situation.

His expression slowly transformed into a wide smile, "You're not kidding. You actually like me?"

Confused and feeling a sense of panic, you asked, "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Fred's grin widened, making him look like a complete idiot, "I can't control it. You've just made me the happiest person in the world. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been hoping to hear those words?"

Silence filled the air. Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

“I like you too, I was just waiting for you to catch up,” he confessed with a soft grin, his hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"So, that's why you were always touching me?" you asked, trying to make sense of it all.

He let out a loud laugh, quickly quieted by a stern look from Madam Pince. He sent her an apologetic smile before refocusing on you and speaking in a hushed tone.

"And here I thought I was being smooth about it. I've been trying to let you know for a while now, actually."

“Bloody hell. You mean you felt the same all this time? Why on earth didn't you say anything?" You were in disbelief, feeling like you were in a dream. Maybe you had dozed off while reading about The History and Evolution of Enchantments and Charms Throughout the Ages.

"Well, why didn't you?" he asked.

"You've got me there," you said with a quiet laugh, looking down at the ground. After a moment of silence, you glanced up and saw him smiling softly at you.

"So... what's the plan now?" you asked, seeking some clarity.

"You like me, I like you. It's pretty clear, isn't it?" he responded.

You squinted your eyes at him, still not fully convinced.

"Now I can touch you as much as I want, and you can't escape anymore," he said with a mischievous grin, taking a step closer until he stood right in front of you.

"Oh, Merlin. You're a git," you exclaimed, unable to hold back a laugh. "Why on earth do I like you again?"

“Because I’m just that irresistible, obviously,” he laughed, joining in with you.

You placed your hand on his chest and playfully gave him a nudge. But before you could pull away, he surprised you by grabbing your hand. As you looked down at his hand enveloping yours, he posed a question. "So, about you admitting you like me... do you wanna back that up with a kiss?"

"Mhm, I'll have to think about that," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if you deserve it, to be honest."

He grinned cheekily and retorted, "Oh, I definitely deserve it. What have I ever done to not deserve it?"

“Let’s try and remember. Just last week you-”

As you were about to list all the things he had done, he surprised you again by silencing your words with a passionate kiss. In that moment, your thoughts faded into insignificance, consumed by the intensity of the kiss. His hand gently caressed your cheek, deepening the connection between you. Your emotions were running wild, and it felt as if your body was ablaze.

After a moment or an hour, he pulled back, and you took a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. Opening your eyes, you gazed up at him.

"Sorry, I interrupted you. What were you saying?" he asked, his playful tone laced with a hint of mischief.

“I can’t remember,” you murmured, connecting your lips with his once more.

You’d been wrong all along—falling for your best friend might have been the best idea of all.

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight

TRIGGER WARNING : Mention of child abuse

Clara’s body ached with exhaustion, but it wasn’t the kind of tiredness that could be fixed with a good night’s sleep. It was the kind that settled deep in her bones—emotional exhaustion that no amount of training could burn off.

Being seventeen and juggling both school and a football career had already complicated many aspects of her life, but she had managed fairly well so far. After a year and a half at Barcelona, she had grown accustomed to the demands of her sport and the rigors of school. But then her mother left, abandoning their home in the middle of the night without even leaving a note. Clara and her father were left behind, their home life—once a stable source of comfort and safety—slowly unraveling before her eyes.

At first, her father stayed strong, clinging to the belief that his wife would return and life would eventually go back to normal. But she never did. The ball crashed against the goalpost with more force than necessary, Clara’s shoulders tensed with every shot. Each kick was a release—a scream she couldn’t let out, a rage that no one could see. The field was her escape, but even here, the weight of her home pressed down on her chest, harder with every breath, her father sank deeper into his own grief.

He eventually turned to alcohol to numb the pain, drinking more and more each day. It started with an occasional glass, but soon, Clara would come home from practice to find him already drunk, slumped on the couch with a beer bottle in hand.

They had an unspoken arrangement. Clara would stay out of her father’s way, retreating to her room as soon as she got home. She’d only come out once she was sure he had passed out on the couch, to quietly prepare herself something to eat before heading back to her room to do homework and get some sleep.

This pattern continued for a while, until it began to deteriorate further. Clara would hear the familiar sound of the bottle cap twisting off before she even stepped inside the door. His mood swings from slurred words of "I miss her" to violent outbursts, as though each day was a reminder that her mother wasn’t coming back.

At first, it was just snide remarks thrown her way or orders to clean up after him, his words, once laced with sadness, now carried a bite—clipped commands, accusing glares when she was late, his footsteps heavy with impatience. He no longer cared to hide it, but it soon escalated. He shoved her against walls, screamed at her, blamed her for her mother’s departure, and even threw beer cans at her.

Clara had no choice but to handle it on her own. She couldn't tell her teammates about it, not when she had spent years idolizing them and had finally earned a spot playing alongside them.

When Ingrid casually commented on Clara’s new bruise, Clara forced a smile, her heart thumping in her chest. “Clumsy,” she’d said, but her eyes avoided Ingrid’s, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

She couldn't let anything ruin this opportunity, so she kept quiet.

She didn’t confide in Alexia about the fear she felt every time she went home. She didn’t tell Mapi or Ingrid about the bruises on her body during their weekly dinners. She didn’t explain why she avoided changing in front of them, letting them assume it was just typical teenage shyness. Clara had always been quiet and reserved, but she’d grown close to Ingrid and Mapi. She appreciated Ingrid’s calm nature and quiet talks, and found comfort in Mapi’s endless monologues. So, it wasn’t surprising when one of them noticed that something was wrong.

Ingrid had always admired Clara’s quiet strength, how she was always the first to show up for team dinners, never complaining, always reliable. But lately, she’d noticed the cracks—Clara’s forced smile, the way she’d fidget with her hands when they spoke, the silence that stretched longer than it should. Ingrid knew something was wrong, but Clara had always been so good at hiding things.

Clara had never missed one of their dinners, not even when she had been sick. She had once shown up at practice with a fever but still managed to smile through it. So when Clara declined this week's dinner, citing homework, Ingrid immediately felt something was off. Clara had been pulling away lately—she was quieter, more withdrawn, and had been avoiding team hangouts and dinners. Ingrid started to worry. Concerned, she decided to visit Clara at home, hoping to understand what had been going on.

Ingrid arrived at Clara’s house a short while later. She had dropped Clara off there many times before, so she knew the way well. As she parked on the street and walked up to the door, she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what she might find, before taking a deep breath and knocking.

She waited long enough to wonder if she should try knocking again when the door creaked as it finally opened, it was a man who answered, she recognize him from photos she’d been showed by Clara a few months ago, it’s her father, but he looks nothings like the man she’d seen on the pictures, gone was the gentle smile and kind eyes, the man in front of her looked disheveled, his clothes dirty, and the smell of alcohol and stale air hit Ingrid immediately.

"What do you want?" he slurred.

Ingrid forced herself to stay calm ignoring the worry swirling deep in her stomach. "Where is Clara?"

His bloodshot eyes flickered to Ingrid, narrowing as if he recognized her but couldn’t quite place her. His lips twitched with some emotion she couldn’t quite read before he spat, “She’s not here.” The words felt more like an accusation than an answer, and before Ingrid could react, the door slammed in her face

Ingrid took a couple of steps back bewildering at the man’s reaction, but as she did, she noticed Clara’s car parked just a few meters away and she could recall seeing her shoes scattered on the ground inside just by the door.

Her stomach tightened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But despite her concerns, she hesitated. Clara had told her that she was swamped with homework just a couple of days ago, so maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was overreacting.

Reluctantly, Ingrid got back in her car and headed home, though the unease lingered in her gut. Once at her apartment, she was joined by Mapi, who had heard the keys in the lock and quickly got up from the couch always happy to see her girlfriend.

"No nena?" Mapi asked, a soft frown overtaking the smile on her face.

"No... I talked to her father, though," Ingrid replied, trying to sound casual but failing as her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence.

"And?" Mapi asked, standing beside her.

"Not much. He said she wasn’t there," Ingrid sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But her car and shoes were there."

Mapi’s eyes narrowed as she processed this. "What else?" she asked, sensing something more was troubling Ingrid.

Ingrid hesitated before speaking, her voice low. "The house was a mess, Mapi. His clothes were dirty, the floor was a mess... and he smelled like alcohol. Something just doesn’t sit right with me. And Clara’s just been…” she sighs not ending her sentence.

Mapi’s concern grew. "What’s been happening with Clara lately?"

"She’s pulling away from all of us," Ingrid explained, her voice trembling with worry. "She’s not talking as much, not coming to dinners, barely at practice, always leaving in a hurry... I don’t know, Mapi. Something’s wrong." she raises her head looking directly in Mapi’s eyes seemingly begging her to believe her.

Mapi gently took Ingrid’s hand, leading her to the sofa. They sat wrapped in each others’ arms in silence for a moment, Ingrid’s words hanging in the air. Before Mapi finally spoke.

"Why don’t we just text her and see what she says? Maybe she’s really busy with homework." Mapi was still talking, but Ingrid barely heard her. Her mind was racing. Maybe Clara was just busy. Maybe she was hiding something. But what if she wasn’t okay? Ingrid couldn’t take the chance. She grabbed her phone and typed: "Hi Nena, I tried to come say hi, but you weren’t at your house. Hope you’re doing well and hopefully we can reschedule our dinner soon. Love, Ing."

She showed the message to Mapi for approval, then sent it. They both waited anxiously, Ingrid fidgeting with her phone, her nerves growing as the minutes passed. Finally, Ingrid’s phone dinged with a new message.

Ingrid tapped the screen, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. The message loaded, and she froze. It was brief—too brief—and colder than she’d expected. Her stomach churned

"Hola Ingrid, sorry I’m at the library doing homework. Maybe next week for the dinner? See you tomorrow,"

The three of them had gotten close over the past few months, the couple had taken the young girl under their wing and had never denied the parenting allegation when it came to them, they liked watching over her as Clara had proven herself a great teammate and an ever better friend.

Ingrid’s fingers hovered over the phone, anxiety coiling in her stomach. What if Clara was lying? What if she was too afraid to ask for help? And what if-

Ingrid let out a long sigh and showed the text to Mapi, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Maybe she’s really busy," Mapi suggested gently, rubbing Ingrid’s back. "We can’t jump to conclusions just yet."

"But what if she’s not okay?" Ingrid states as she stands up, pacing the room. "What if she’s lying to us about something as simple as this? What if she won’t be honest with us when we ask her directly?" she desperately asks

Mapi stood up too and pulled Ingrid into an embrace, holding her close as she rubbed her back soothingly, pressing small kisses on her shoulder. Mapi’s hand found Ingrid’s, and she gently pulled her closer. « I know you’re scared. But we’ll figure this out. If something feels wrong tomorrow at practice, we’ll do whatever we have to do. But we can’t jump to conclusions yet, love. Not yet »

Ingrid nodded, though her worry hadn’t faded. But for now, all she could do was wait and hope she was wrong.

Ingrid lay awake long after Mapi had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts circled back to Clara, to the weight of her silence, and to the strange sense of dread that had settled in her gut. Something was terribly wrong. And she wasn’t sure they would be able to help before it was too late.

[evilslushy]

i really like ur ff ! it was so good . could u maybe write about hotboxing hamzahs car by the beach or something like that ?

HotBox Challenge ᯓᡣ𐭩

Hamzah x f!reader

Warning: a little suggestive! MDNI :)

(A/N): barely proofread this… but this is my first ever request outside of people I know!! I hope you like this anon,, I know I didn’t exactly let them hotbox the car but I hope you forgive me for that <3 MWAH (i luv ur request btw, truly challenged my writing #unique)

w: 1.4k

You shivered. Droplets of water dripping down your neck, leaving prints of a darker color on the fabric of Hamzah's dark green jacket. You licked your lips, savoring the salty coating on them as you rolled the windows up to block the breeze from blowing on you. You guys weren’t planning to get this wet but one thing led to another leading back to Hamzah (accidentally) aggressively pushing you into the beach. It wasn’t fully his fault, you kind of started it when nudged him for saying something you didn’t like.

Sighing, you pouted as you looked at the driver’s seat beside you. Your boyfriend’s guilt gnawed at him, pushing him toward a nearby supermarket for god knows what. “Hamzah, it’s fine!” You told him right before he sat you down on the passenger seat. “Just stay here for a second.” He cut you off, taking off his dark green jacket and putting it over you.

It’s been a few minutes since and he hasn’t been back, you wonder what he’s even looking for. Regardless, you hug yourself tighter—seeking warmth within yourself. Humming to a song as you waited for his imminent arrival.

Your humming must’ve been loud enough for it to block out the sound of Hamzah’s footsteps. A knock on the window snapping you out your own trace, turning to be greeted by your boyfriend’s half smile; ushering you to unlock the doors. You smile back, shaking your head left and right. Hamzah’s smile dropped, a muffled: “babe, open. Please.” Heard by his window.

Obviously you weren’t actually planning to serve him hypothermia on a silver platter. Leaning over to push the lock open for him. Hamzah immediately opened the door to set a plastic bag on his seat, his hand rummaging through it to give you whatever took him so long to grab.

You raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a packet from the bag. A packet containing a small item—something you'd typically find inside a box with several others alike. Hamzah held it out to you with a sheepish grin, as if it were some kind of treasure he’d unearthed from a hidden aisle. “Self heating pads” he informs, “I didn’t realize it was this small when I bought them… if this isn’t enough I got a box.” His murmurs go unheard when you take it away from his hand, ripping it out of its plastic wrap so it’ll start warming up. Revealing a piece of fabric, seamed on its sides. “Your jacket was warm enough, you didn’t have to.”

“I don’t know, I kinda just freaked out. It’s cold out. You might catch a cold.” He placed the plastic bag that contained the box of heating pads towards your lap. Sitting down and closing the car door behind him.

You didn’t know if it was because someone else was in the car now, or maybe the heating pads work like magic. Your body warmed up by the second, eyes shifting from the heating pad between your palms to the ocean waves crashing down—the only visible reflection on them being the bright full moon. So bright you could see the shoreline racing upwards as the waves came to an end, pulling backwards—the wet sand now richer in color.

Hamzah’s hands shifted around, from his thighs to the steering wheel. Lips twisting to refrain from asking what he wanted to ask. And if there’s anyone that can feel his awkwardness more than you… it would be Martin. Though regardless of that. You turned to look at him, Hamzah side-eyeing you with the same twist on his lip—slowly turning into a weak smile. “You look like you want to say something…” you softly noted.

Hamzah tilting his head, finally facing your gaze. He simply shook his head. Making you lay back against your seat with a sigh. You knew that look on his face. “Light it.” You mumble.

You guys were supposed to share a joint by the beach until he pushed you, then you got stuck in the car to warm up. You didn’t know that in his mind the joint was the main part of this rushed ‘date.’

Your excited boyfriend is not wasting any second to pull the joint out and light it. Chuckling at his urgency, you comment: “damn, I didn’t know you were that excited about it.”

Hamzah closed his eyes as the smoke filled his lung, sighing it out while resting his head back on the headrest. “Long week.” Was all he said in response. Passing you the joint without looking. “Tell me about it.” You held it between your thumb and index, bringing it closer to your lips. “Long year at this point.” Finally taking a drag.

Your boyfriend hummed in agreement.

You shifted the joint between your fingers, the motion fluid, almost like a second nature—you moved it between your index and middle finger—making it more convenient for both of you. Your hand hovered near Hamzah’s lips. As you brought it closer, your fingers brushed softly against his lips—just a brief touch, but enough to send a quiet jolt through you. His lips parted slightly as he took a slow drag, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours for a moment. When he was done, he tapped your hand, the gesture almost careless, but the way his fingers lingered on yours said more than the action itself.

The sudden sensualness in the air must’ve been pent up. Maybe it was the fact that you haven’t kissed him today at all, or your body was still in need of additional warmth. Or maybe… you were making excuses because no one can resist your boyfriend; especially post hair-wash day when his curls are that defined.

His hand hesitated for a split second, just enough to make your heart skip. Then, with a subtle shift, his fingers grazed yours again—only this time, they lingered longer, almost deliberately. Slowly, he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gently but firmly guiding it away, as if it took everything in him not to harshly pull you closer. He leaned in, his presence warm against your aura, his lips meeting yours in a slow, sweet kiss. His lips hugging yours perfectly, that aroma of weed stuck to be tasted between you both. You pulled away, a bit knocked out of breath from the kiss. Hamzah chased your lips for a second before noticing that you were stopping to take it in, foggy smoke escaping his lips. “What about the joint?” You took the time to tease.

“Fuck the joint.” He could almost go unheard, not wasting any time to crash his lip against yours again. This time a little harsher, hungrier. You wanted to fight back, argue that you guys need to finish this joint that cost Hamzah money. Except it seemed like a lost cause to argue with him.

The way he was kissing you bubbled a giggle in your chest, slowly breaking away to let it out. Hamzah looking at you, a puzzled love dazed gaze falling from his eyes. His lips plumper than before, a pink hue reaching the top of his ears.

“Hamzah.” You say in between your giggles. “What… what?” He asked, a breathless laugh to mirror your expression. Smiling, your hands go up to cup his face. “I think this is our worst attempt in hotbox-ing a car.”

“Isn’t it better to do it later with Martin and Mandy?” He didn’t waste any time, kissing you after. You kissed back, your smile felt against his lips. You liked when he gets like this—it was rare but once you bent him up enough (not kissing him good morning) he can’t stop.

Your fingers curled the hair on the back of his head, opening your mouth slightly, Hamzah softly entering his tongue—groaning at the warmth of your mouth. Again, you pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting you both. You turn your head, turning off the joint by putting it in an open water bottle snuggled in the cup holder.

Hamzah looked at you when you turned back, expecting you to continue on. But you slipped your hands away from him, sitting back in your seat.

“Go back home, I need to change.”

Hamzah snarked, “leaving me hanging is not cool.”

“Your clothes are now wet too!”

“I don’t care!”

“Shut up. Home. Now.” Your tone was demanding but your smile held a shortsighted smile. Feeling a bit guilty for leaving him hanging, you kissed his cheek. “Sorry, baby. Promise I won’t leave you hanging when we’re at home.”

He reversed the car to pull out of the parking lot, a shy smile on his face. Humming to show his understanding.

Hotbox challenge: failed.

[apomaro-mellow]

Yall said you wanted more of Victorian steddie cucking Jason so here ya go

Read on AO3

Steve had been distracted and it only got worse as his appointment with Doctor Munson got closer. He had never felt that good before. No omega he’d ever talked to had mentioned that an alpha’s touch could feel like that. He didn’t even know using mouths was an option. Was it strictly a medical procedure? Surely he couldn’t expect his husband to perform that for him. Only a licensed expert should….should…

He clenched his legs together and bit his lip, trying to look like he was present as his husband went over the final preparations.

Jason sighed. “I do wish you didn’t have to see the doctor on the same day as the party. What if you fall ill?”

Steve sighed. “It’s for the best. You want a child, don’t you? One of our very own. And Doctor Munson has been recommended by all our friends.”

Of course, Jason had been the one to seek him out, but when Steve mentioned the name Munson to his own circle, Heather and Carol had nothing but praise for the man’s practice. Carol had even confided in her own struggle to conceive before taking him on as a physician and now she was set to pop any day now.

Before, Steve had chalked it up to a pill or tonic, something that made her and her husband’s attempts more fruitful. But…when he remembered how the doctor had helped him. Now Steve was wondering if Carol’s child would be born with hair darker and curlier than it should be. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that but the only way to know more was to get to his appointment.

Jason wouldn’t be joining him for this one, too busy with the last minute details. They were hosting a celebration for Jason’s commendation and Steve hoped he’d be in a jovial mood when it was time to get to bed.

He didn’t even have to spend time in the waiting room when he arrived. Doctor Munson was already in the front room, almost as if he’d been waiting for Steve.

“Mrs. Carver, right on time, follow me.”

Steve did, entering and sitting down on the table as he had the first time. Doctor Munson closed the door behind himself. He started with asking baseline questions. Most of which were easy to answer, as it had only been a week since he had been here last. Nothing much changed except…well…

“And your urges? The ones Mr. Carver was worried about? Did they get any better?”

Steve started to wring his skirt before remembering his manners and straightening it out. “I um, well, yes and uh no?”

Doctor Munson chuckled. “So a solid maybe? Could you elaborate? Are they different from before?”

Steve thought about it. He still felt an ache, a need. But they only came upon him when he thought of-oh.

“The urges used to be directed solely at my husband. But I don’t think about him anymore. Instead I-”

“Instead?”

Steve cleared his throat and turned up his gaze from his lap to the man before. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

The grin that came upon the doctor’s face was both endearing and searing. Steve felt his body get warm and his eyes were drawn to that mouth. He missed entirely what was said next.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said that’s perfectly natural. Your omega desires the one who will care for your needs. Typically it would be your husband. But it’s not uncommon for an omega’s sights to turn to someone else.”

“Oh.” It felt better to hear that it was normal.

“Now, let’s not dither any longer. You have a party to prepare for.”

“Speaking of”, Steve started as the doctor scribbled something down. “I know it’s very last minute, but we would be honored if you attended.”

“Would you now?”

“Of course. If all goes well, we-I’d have you to thank for my child.”

“In that case, I would be honored to attend. Now, onto business. Do you feel that need arising now? When you look at me?”

Steve thought about the times he had admitted to Jason the sort of feelings his husband caused within him; how his husband had recoiled to know his inner thoughts. Steve didn’t want Doctor Munson to be repulsed by him. But if he lied to a physician, what was the point?

So he nodded. “Yes. I am, I mean I do, feel those things.”

Doctor Munson nodded and moved to stand behind Steve. “I’m sure you and Mr. Carver have plans for a more private celebration tonight, yes?”

“Yes. We want to make the most of my appointment today.” He could feel the doctor’s breath against his ear.

“And as I understand it, this will be your first knotting. Being knotted and pupped up, you’re going to experience some changes. It’s time you got acquainted with yourself more than ever before.”

Steve tried to turn to see what he meant but Doctor Munson was already moving, placing a large mirror in front of him. The doctor got behind him again and put his hands on Steve’s waist.

“May you lift your skirts and spread your legs?”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up but obeyed. When all was said and down, his core was exposed to the world. He was only able to glance at his reflection before turning his head away. He was surprised to feel a gentle hand massaging his hip.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of down there.” His hands moved down to Steve’s thighs, slowly making their way inward. “You have a healthy thatch of hairs.” 

His hand cupped Steve then, simply holding him. Steve’s breath got short and yet he felt secure, safe. Doctor Munson hummed, sounding observant and pleased.

“Has your husband ever told you how lovely you are down there?”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, though he wasn’t quite sure when they’d closed. ‘Lovely’? Down there? He turned his head to look at the doctor’s face but he wasn’t even looking at Steve. His eyes were on the mirror. Steve turned his gaze to that and found eyes transfixed on their reflection. Specifically on what was happening….down there. Doctor Munson’s finger was stroking up and down.

“I asked you a question Mrs. Carver. Are you still lucid?”

“He’s never-n-never said that about me, um, rather about that part of me.”

Doctor Munson tutted. “Husbands aren’t always the best at expressing themselves, I’m afraid. But I’m sure he must think so. Beautifully pink in color. And the shine.” He took in a deep breath in the same moment that Steve breathed out. He pushed a finger in, a low growl coming from him as he watched it get sucked in.

“All alphas owe their lives to this. It’s a pity they don’t always know how to show appreciation. So allow me to tell you - the way you could take a knot is divine.” He pushed a second finger inside. “And the way this same part can pass through a child, bringing new life into the world, is godly.”

Steve’s hips shifted but he fought to keep them still. In his mind he could hear Jason reprimanding him. And he could also hear his governess telling him that good omegas stayed perfectly still so their alpha could complete the deed without interruption.

“Don’t fight your instincts.”

“B-but I-I was told-”

“Your body knows what it needs. And if your mate hasn’t given it to you right away, use your body to tell him what that is.” To prove his point, Doctor Munson stilled his hand.

Steve couldn’t help the whine from the back of his throat. His hips squirmed without any coordination for a few moments before he was able to find some kind of rhythm and he watched through the mirror. Watched as those deft fingers moved in and out of him.

“That’s it, Mrs. Carver. Just like that.”

“Steve. You can-that is to say-you may call me by my first name.”

“In that case, you may also drop the formalities with me. Those close to me know me by Eddie.”

“Eddie”, Steve sighed, trying it out. It certainly felt more intimate than calling him by ‘Doctor Munson’. And right now, he didn’t want to be known as ‘Mrs. Carver’.

“You’re doing wonderfully Steve. You produce slick like a master and your scent is perfectly enticing. You can take a good stretching”, he said, a third finger slipping inside. “And then there’s this little button.” His other hand pulled at the top of his mound.

After his first appointment, Steve had been curious. He had thought to look but could never quite gather the nerve to look for long or do any true exploration. But he remembered where he had felt Eddie’s tongue that sent jolts of lightning through his body.

“Do you know what this part of you is for?”

Steve shook his head. Hole was for the alpha and then later the pup to come through. Everything else was a mystery that only men in medicine knew. He watched with hungry eyes as Eddie finally touched it, just with the tip of his finger and still he reached up and clung to the sleeve of the doctor’s coat. 

“Do you understand now?”

“Wha? Mmn, what?”

“Pay attention, Steve”, Eddie reminded gently. He touched the small nub again and this time Steve paid attention to his own reaction. Not just how it felt good but what his body actually did in response to it. How his hips lifted to meet the touch, how he tightened around Eddie’s fingers, and how more slick came from him.

“Do you see now?”, Eddie asked. “Most will ignore it but this part of you is important too.” He used the hand not currently in Steve to spread his slick around. “It will make you clench around your alpha. That, combined with his knot, will make sure none of his seed leaks out. An evolutionary advantage, back from the days where an omega could be taken by any alpha. It made certain that even if that happened, a bonded omega would already be pupped by the one of their choosing.”

His fingers started to thrust deep into Steve while the ones on his other hand rubbed quick circles. Steve’s head came to rest on his shoulder, mouth agape and eyes rolling back. His husband was most definitely the last thing on his mind right now.

“That’s it Steve, let go. Just feel. An alpha should consider this his honor, his sacred duty.”

Steve found it hard to believe any alpha would feel that way but certainly Eddie must. He was focused on his mission and nothing else. And Steve felt that delicious heat build up in him again just like last time. Then he felt Eddie nuzzle at his neck. His high collar kept from any pure skin contact, but it made him burn all the same. Eddie buried his nose on the side of his mating bite.

A clear challenge to the alpha who had already bitten him.

Steve opened his eyes in time to see himself put Eddie’s fingers in a death grip and watch everything down there pulse in time with the waves of pleasure that crashed through him. This time, instead of washing his hands, Eddie brought his slick-soaked fingers to his mouth and cleaned them off with his tongue.

“What time is that party?”

For the evening’s events, Steve changed his gown to something more celebratory. It showed his neck and parts of his shoulders and collarbone. But of course, his bond bite was hidden under a choker, as was custom. The only omegas who went without were those without a bite to show. Steve had spent the better part of the evening distracting himself with idle talk.

Eddie hadn’t arrived yet and it made Steve’s thoughts wander. Did he help out all omegas the same way? Was Steve just next in a long line of conquests? Eddie had never offered Steve anything but his medicinal techniques and yet he was clearly challenging Jason. And Jason didn’t even know it.

Jason said nothing about Eddie’s scent on him when he returned home, though Steve was sure he must be able to smell it. He washed himself before the party just to be sure.

And speaking of the party, it was going swimmingly, he had to admit. Everyone was enjoying themselves and Jason had his chest puffed out all night. It made Steve anticipate their bed all the more. When it was time to dance, Steve took his husband’s hand and followed his lead. Dancing for him was an excuse to have his alpha’s hands on him in public. Jason always kept a respectable distance though. Sometimes more than respectable. 

After one dance, they moved to the side. Steve could have danced more but sometimes it felt like Jason only wanted to touch him when necessary. Jason conversed with some of the other men, Steve loyally at his side when someone tapped his bare shoulder.

“Eddie?”

“Apologies for my late arrival.”

“‘Eddie’?”, Jason echoed.

“I would like to make the most of what time I have left in the party. So if I may impose, may I have the hostess’ for this next dance?”

Steve was tempted to take Eddie’s hand even without his husband’s approval. But he still looked to Jason, hoping he didn’t look too eager.

“You have my permission, doctor.”

Eddie took Steve’s hand and led him to the dance floor. He didn’t wear his white coat and his hair wasn’t pulled up like in his office. Instead, it fell over the shoulders of his dark jacket. Eddie nodded to Carol and Steve was reminded that she was one of his patients. Eddie brought him into a dancer’s hold so close that their chests rose and fell against each other.

“Carol is due any day now”, Steve commented as they swayed to the music.

“And glowing with the pride of it. Mr. Hagan must be proud.”

“I’m sure they appreciated your help. Carol was so worried before conceiving.”

“And that worry was stress that made it all the more difficult for their family to grow. It seems they’re doing quite well now.”

“Do you help all omegas in the same way?”, Steve ventured to ask.

Eddie grinned. “Each person who passes through my practice requires different care. I don’t normally gossip about specifics, but for the Hagans, I simply coached Mr. Hagan through some bedroom techniques. Mr. Wheeler simply needed a tonic for vitality. But you, Steve…”

His gaze got intense and Steve realized he could scent him for the first time. It made sense for doctors to cover their scent, otherwise it could unease a patient. But this was a social event and Eddie had no need to hide his cinnamon and cloves scent.

“Yes?”

“I knew I had to assist you by any means necessary. And if that meant I was allowed to touch…to taste…”

Steve’s body grew warm. “Tonight-”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“But Jason-”

“Will be taken care of. He is still your husband. And I intend to respect his claim over you. But you deserve a pup. You deserve to hear a child’s laughter in your halls and to be someone’s mother.”

“Eddie”, Steve sighed, not even realizing how close their bodies were pressed until the musicians changed the tune.

Their bodies separated and Steve was returned to his husband. Steve fanned himself and used the dance as an excuse as to why he was slightly flushed, not that Jason acknowledged it beyond a sneer. As the party began to wind down, Steve noticed his husband was more intoxicated than usual. He became worried about what this meant for the night and his suspicions were proven correct.

Their guests had gone home and the married couple dressed for bed. Jason needed help getting into his gown and he was in bed while Steve was still sitting at his vanity, brushing his hair.

“Jason? Jason?”, Steve called out, going over to his side of the bed. “Don’t you remember tonight?”

“He’s just about passed out”, Eddie’s voice sounded from the door, causing Steve to whip around.

“You’re here.”

“I said I would be.” Eddie shrugged his coat off. 

“Here? Now?”, Steve asked his heart rabbiting.

“Yes”, Eddie nodded. “He won’t wake until morning. But the scent you make and the sounds you produce should reach his subconscious mind and make him more susceptible to you.”

“You’ll give me a pup? Tonight?”, Steve put a hand to his chest, trying to calm his heart.

“I promised it to you and your husband. And I am a man of my word.” Eddie closed the distance between them and cradled Steve’s face, illuminated only by moonlight, then kissed him sweetly.

It was a different kind of kiss than what Steve was used to. Barely there pecks. This was like a thunderstorm after a drought. Eddie’s hands smoothed down Steve’s neck, around his waist, and then settled on his hips. Steve’s hands stayed perfectly still at his side. When Eddie pulled back, he took Steve’s hand and guided him to the other side of the bed where he normally laid. Steve laid down on his back.

His heart had just calmed down but it picked up again as Eddie undressed himself fully. Steve’s legs trembled, fighting between the instinct to spread and show himself and his learned behavior of keeping his legs shut. But he remembered the alpha’s words just that morning. He was allowed to give in to his instincts. So he not only spread, but he pulled the hem of his nightgown up and over his knees, exposing himself to the room. 

“There it is, just as gorgeous as always”, Eddie praised, coming onto the bed.

Steve thought he should feel more shame. Or more reservations. He was letting another alpha take him while his real husband and mate slumbered right next to them. But Jason benefited from this too. Eddie started to kiss his thighs and Steve just about forgot the presence of his husband. He felt warm breath on his loins and covered his mouth before he could cry out. Then a hand came up to pull it away.

“Mr. Carver needs to hear you. He needs to associate your sounds with satisfaction.”

“But I’ve never…”

Eddie licked a stripe up his core, eliciting a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp from Steve. “The more you allow yourself to feel, the better chance you have at conceiving.”

Steve’s lips parted and he allowed short breaths. Then Eddie’s tongue started to draw circles and whimpers fell from him. He thought he’d be more scared of Jason waking up. He turned his head to see his husband on his back, appearing almost dead to the world. Then Eddie blew cold air onto his hot flesh and Steve jolted, a sharp cry coming from him. Jason shifted, turning on his side now so that he was face to face with Steve.

That only stoked the flames in Steve’s body and he felt himself get more wet. Eddie hummed, seeming pleased at his reaction.

“You feel good and you want your alpha to know that.” He rose up and kissed Steve’s chest through his gown while rubbing a finger against his slit. He pressed the first one in and released a low rumble, pleased at how easily it slipped in. His lips found Steve’s neck, the unbitten side, and sucked a mark into it.

“Alpha”, Steve moaned softly, arms winding around Eddie.

Eddie got him to three fingers like before and then pulled them out. Steve’s eyes fluttered as he felt the head finally slip in. One hand fell from Eddie, needing to grip something and that ended up being Jason’s nightgown. Steve could feel his husband’s chest rise and fell while Eddie sunk deeper and deeper into him. His mouth fell open and every indecent sound he had held back all these years were set free as Eddie thrust in and out.

Every touch was true to Eddie’s words from earlier. He considered it a privilege and an honor to be allowed to do this. Steve felt something else begin to push up against him and realized in euphoria that it was a knot. He was going to be knotted, he was going to be filled and thoroughly seeded and it would finally take root and turn into a beautiful life.

When it popped into him, he could hear Eddie growl into his ear. Eddie bit into his shoulder and Steve saw stars.

Jason didn’t stir until morning came. He sat up, head still swimming from the previous night. He rubbed his temples and slowly stood up from the bed. It was only then that he noticed Doctor Munson sitting in a chair on the other side of the room.

“What are you-?!”

“Shh”, Eddie put a finger to his lips. “Watch your volume. Your wife is still resting.”

Jason looked down to see that Steve was very much still asleep. “Why are you here?”

“Mr. Carver when a patient puts their trust in me, I see it through to the end. And I must say, you performed quite well last night. As I was able to observe, Mrs. Carver was properly knotted.”

Jason’s brow furrowed. He didn’t want to say that he had no recollection of that. But he truly remembered nothing after collapsing into bed. Eddie stood and walked over to the bed. He was fully clothed, excluding his coat and hat.

“The proof is right here.” Eddie pulled the blanket back and then lifted Steve’s gown. He then very gently spread his legs. “His amount of slick is proof of a coupling. But if you look very closely, not a single drop of your spend is on the outside. I say not even a textbook would have a more perfect illustration.”

Steve shifted and Eddie covered him back up. Jason swallowed, feeling challenged and yet now knowing why.

“So it is done?”

“Conception should be complete, yes. But your journey has only just begun. We can discuss it more later. But I recommend that Steve visits my office regularly from now on. Perhaps every two weeks or so.”

Jason watched as Doctor Munson put his coat back on and then his hat. “Um, yes, very good. Thank you, doctor.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Carver”, Eddie smirked.

tbc?

[madlori]

Hi Lori! I don't even go here but I've seen your 911 posts and I was wondering, why did Buck and Tommy break up?

You want the Watsonian reason or the Doylist reason?

The in-universe reason is that Buck got a little spooked finding out that Tommy was once engaged to his own ex, Abby, who Tommy was really not being honest with because he knew he was gay the whole time. Buck spirals a bit about it, wondering how Tommy could lie like that, and Josh schools him a bit about the realities of being a fortyish gay man and what it's like to be closeted. Buck overcompensates a bit, realizing the depth of his own feelings, and semi-impulsively asks Tommy to move in with him. Then Tommy has his own spiral, and he tells Buck he can't move in with him because he knows how this ends - he's the shiny new novelty to Buck, he thinks, as the first man he's dated but he won't be the last. Despite Buck insisting that he can be both, Tommy says if he goes in any deeper and moves in, Buck will break his heart and he can't bear it. So he breaks up with him.

Now, it did not feel like a final breakup. Neither wanted it, they both felt strongly about each other. It felt like a very typical roadblock a couple would hit in the 3rd act to overcome and get stronger and most viewers are assuming that's what's coming. But post-episode interviews revealed that Tommy won't be returning. THAT is what sent the fandom into a tailspin.

This breakup made...not a lot of sense in-universe, for a variety of reasons, but whatever.

The external reasons are murkier.

I am of the opinion that they HAD been writing this relationsihp to go a much longer distance, but something changed and they did a last-minute swerve. There's a hard disconnect between some interviews of just a few weeks ago and this episode, although there could be other explanations. None of that is known for sure. Could be this was the plan all along.

But it doesn't feel like it was. It was completely out of left field.

Speculation runs from network interference to cost cutting to cast not wanting to continue it to...well. It doesn't matter.

I don't think it's 100% that Tommy will never return but it's probably at least 98%. And 100% for the near future.

We're all pretty heartbroken about it. And it wasn't even a good episode apart from that, although the breakup scene was well acted and effective.

[aventurineswife]

Hey !!! How are you?? I love what you write so much so ure so talentedd !!

Also could u do an aventurine x reader where like they started dating not long ago and like aventurine notices self harm marks on reader’s arms ?? (If ure comfortable w/ that ofc)

“You Drew Stars Over My Scars”

Summary: In the early stages of your relationship, Aventurine notices scars on your arm. With quiet compassion and understanding, he addresses it gently, offering his support without judgment. As you share a vulnerable moment, he reassures you that he’s there for you, bringing lightheartedness and warmth to ease the conversation.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Emotional Support, Fluff and Angst, Healing.

Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, References to past emotional struggles

A/N: HELLO!!! I'm doing alright and I hope you are doing alright as well!! Thank you for appreciating my work! I put my best effort into writing each character as accurately as possible, even while balancing my personal life, so your support means a lot to me! 🤭💖🫶 Don’t worry about your request—I’m comfortable with it. But for anyone struggling with something similar, please reach out to someone you trust completely. It may not seem like much, but sharing is better than keeping everything to yourself. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here! Don’t hesitate, and remember to love yourself more! ❤️

It was one of those rare, quiet evenings. Aventurine had cleared his typically packed schedule, something he was only too willing to do since the two of you had started dating. After a whirlwind start, tonight felt like a pause – a chance for him to simply be with you, away from the risks and wagers that often defined his world.

You sat beside him on the couch, your arm resting casually against his. Aventurine noticed a faint change in your body language – a hint of self-consciousness, a slight turn of your wrist. The faint movement caught his eye, and he saw them – the small, faded scars along your arm.

He glanced up, meeting your eyes with a gentle look, saying nothing at first, allowing you the space to choose whether to share or to stay silent. But his hand reached out, fingers brushing along your forearm. The gesture was soft, free of judgment or expectation, just a comforting presence.

"Can I ask about these?" Aventurine asked softly, his tone inviting but unintrusive.

You hesitated, not used to this level of openness, especially when it came to scars from a part of your past you were still trying to make peace with. You shifted slightly, averting your gaze, but Aventurine’s hand gently anchored you there, his thumb brushing softly over your wrist. His eyes, usually so full of confidence, held only a quiet, calming sincerity.

“It was… it’s something I went through,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “It’s… something I still struggle with, sometimes.”

Aventurine listened, his hand never leaving yours, his gentle touch reminding you that he was there, that he was listening and would wait as long as you needed to feel safe in sharing. After a beat, he spoke, his voice thoughtful and warm.

“You know,” he began softly, “I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’ve felt, what led you here. But… I do know about hiding things that hurt. I’ve got my own scars – maybe not the kind you can see,” he added, his smile faint but real, “but they’re there.”

The weight of his words settled around you, and you felt something shift – a wall you’d kept up out of habit, slowly lowering. You exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, as though you were finally in a space where you didn’t have to hide this part of yourself.

He leaned closer, his hand now holding yours firmly but gently, grounding you in the moment. "I'm here with you, okay? Whatever you’re going through, I want you to know it doesn’t make me see you any differently. You’re… important to me." The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, and it softened something deep within you.

“Thank you.” you said quietly, squeezing his hand back.

Aventurine tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “How about this – every time you feel like you’re slipping, like things get too much, you let me know? We can talk, or… not talk,” he said, a hint of his usual humor breaking through, “or we can find some ridiculous way to distract ourselves. I’ve got these mooncake cats I haven’t introduced you to yet.”

That earned a soft laugh from you, breaking the lingering tension in the room. He caught the sound, grinning as he pulled his phone out and showed you a photo of his silly, mooncake-shaped cats. He held it up with a playful smirk.

“These little guys reminds me every day not to take life too seriously. So, any time you need them, They're just a text away.” he added with a wink.

The lightheartedness lifted the weight from your heart, and you looked at Aventurine, grateful for his presence, his understanding, and his unspoken promise to be there, both in laughter and in the moments that were hard.

And as he pulled you into a gentle embrace, you felt it – the quiet assurance that, whatever scars you both carried, you didn’t have to bear them alone anymore.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 5 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

It was supposed to be a peaceful—boring—day. You yawned and stretched your arms above your head, feeling the tension in your muscles ease as you walked back from the raid you had been sent on as support by the Hunter's Association. Healing a few injuries here, casting some support spells there—typical stuff. A cozy evening of spoiling your children at your Gardens awaited, and maybe you’d even treat yourself to some well-deserved rest.

You let your guard down for just a moment, something you rarely did outside your domain. And perhaps, you shouldn’t have.

The first thing that went wrong was the collision. You hadn’t even sensed anyone nearby, which should have been impossible. Your senses were too sharp, finely tuned from years of surviving the system’s trials.

The second thing that went wrong was that you stumbled backward from the impact—an almost absurd realization, given your strength and agility.

You could’ve been able to catch yourself immediately, but before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you.

The third—and most unsettling—thing was the face that came into view as you were pulled flush against the person. Your eyes shot up, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Stormy grey eyes stared down at you, too close, too familiar.

There, standing before you with an unreadable expression, was Sung Jinwoo.

Your mind went blank for a split second before you quickly masked your surprise with a polite smile—a customer service smile, the one you used to deal with awkward situations. What the hell was this situation? A K-drama plot twist? You fought the urge to groan. There was no way he would recognize you. You had worked hard to stay anonymous, to keep your involvement in his life strictly hidden. This was just an unfortunate run-in, surely—

And just as you were about to step away, you felt it—the familiar tug in the back of your mind.

<Fancy meeting you here, Trial Player!>

Damnit, you cursed internally, your blood running cold.

"'Trial Player,' huh?” Jinwoo’s voice was calm, almost casual, but there was a dangerous curiosity in his tone. The strange glint in his once stormy eyes, now glowing in a sharp blue, set your nerves on edge. “Interesting title.”

Of course, the system wasn’t done. It never was.

[Dear Trial Player, (Name). 

Be careful not to spill your secret to Player Sung Jinwoo, 

else you may find the penalty... quite costly.]

[To not disrupt the predestined events of this world too much, things that should be kept a secret by the Trial Player include: 

- True origin 

- Prior knowledge of this world.]

[Reminder to watch your words, Trial Player.]

You swallowed hard, mind racing. You were treading on dangerous ground. The glint in Jinwoo’s eyes wasn’t the detached curiosity of someone stumbling upon a stranger; it was the look of a predator that had cornered his prey.

“It’s… complicated,” you managed to say, trying to buy yourself some time as you mentally sorted through your options.

“I have time.” His voice was as calm as ever, but the weight behind those words made it clear—he wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t going to let you go, until you explained yourself. And of course, he had. You knew his schedule better than anyone else—You hold back wince; you sounded like a stalker just now.

 His eyes never left yours, and the weight of his stare was almost suffocating.

Your eyes darted around the street. Too open. Too public. If you were going to spill even a fraction of the truth, you needed privacy. “...Follow me,” you said, steeling your nerves. There was no escaping this encounter now, but at the very least, you could control where the conversation would take place.

Jinwoo’s lips quirked up in the barest hint of a smile, as if he’d already won. He let you go, didn’t ask questions, didn’t press you further—just nodded, as if he had expected nothing less than your cooperation. He fell into step beside you, his presence both comforting and unnerving at the same time.

---

You sat across from Sung Jinwoo in a small, secluded café, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your cup. It was peaceful here, or at least it was supposed to be. The gentle hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee—under any other circumstance, this would be the perfect place to relax.

But the man sitting in front of you wasn’t just any ordinary guy. He was Sung Jinwoo, and not the E-rank, sweetly awkward and adorable version of him you once quietly helped. No, this was the Jinwoo who had been through hell and back, the one who had grown stronger, and the one who was currently giving you the most piercing stare you had ever been given in your whole life.

You weren’t afraid of him, but you weren’t naïve enough to think this would be an easy conversation, either.

God, why couldn’t it be the E-rank him? At least that Jinwoo wouldn’t be giving you this much of a hard time.

[Choose your words carefully, Trial Player.]

You clenched your jaw at the system's ever-helpful reminder.

Jinwoo was watching you intently, sipping his coffee as he waited for your answer. His questions were understandable—he was the protagonist of this world, after all—but each answer felt like walking a tightrope, balancing half-truths and white lies. Years of surviving in this world had changed you, turned you into someone far more cautious and guarded than the girl who had first been dropped into the dungeon all those years ago. But you hadn’t expected to have to use those skills on him of all people.

“Look,” you started, choosing your words carefully. “There are things I can’t tell you—things I’m not allowed to tell you.”

His eyebrow raised slightly, though he pushed further on that matter, for now.

“This ‘Trial Player’ business. What does that mean?”

You bit your lip, carefully considering your next words. You had to walk a fine line here. “I had a role to play before you became the system’s player. A trial run of sorts.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “So, you were meant to take my place?”

“No.” Your response was immediate, a bit too sharp, perhaps, but you needed him to understand that. “I was never meant to take your place. I was… a beta tester for the system. Nothing more.”

Jinwoo’s gaze bore into you, as if weighing the truth of your words. The silence stretched, tense and heavy, until he finally spoke again. “And now?”

“I... don’t know.” The only truth you let slip.

“I suppose you’ve been watching me for a while now,”

Your heart skipped a beat. So, he did know?

As if knowing what you wanted, Jinwoo then mentioned the system. Apparently, his system had become unnecessarily chatty—and vague—about you after his awakening. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Just because the system hadn’t forbidden you from helping Jinwoo in small ways didn’t mean it would keep your actions secret forever.

“Paying the hospital bills,” he continued, his eyes locked onto yours. “Items arriving at my door when I needed them. Heals when there was nobody around.”

Your customer-service smile faltered, a tiny fraction at the edges of your lips. He had figured it out. There was no point in denying it. “...Yes.”

You were out of your depth now, there was no turning back.

"So," Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours, "how long have you been helping me?"

Your fingers twitched. "For a while now," you answered, purposefully vague. Not a lie.

"Years, then."

You nodded, biting back the urge to say more. He didn't need the specifics.

"And why?" His gaze was steady, but there was a flicker of something behind it—curiosity, maybe, but also wariness.

You had expected that question, but it didn’t make it any easier to answer. Why had you helped him? The official answer was because he was the protagonist of this world. But deep down, it was more than that. You admired him—his strength, his perseverance, and the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without complaint. Somewhere along the way, admiration had blurred into something deeper, something more personal.

"I just... wanted to help," you said softly, your fingers tightening around the cup in your hands. “The system... didn’t give me much of a choice from the moment it chose me as the trial player. And perhaps it had turned a blind eye; helping you—it felt right." Another half-truth, but still rooted in reality.

Jinwoo studied you for a long moment, his gaze intense. You could almost feel the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out whether you were a threat or an ally. He didn’t press further, which was almost worse. Silence stretched between you, heavy with unsaid words and unanswered questions. You wished you could explain everything, tell him the truth without the system suffocating you in response, but you couldn’t. So, you settled for half-truths and hoped they would be enough.

Then, out of nowhere, the conversation took a turn.

“Let’s keep it that way then,” Jinwoo’s voice was casual, almost too casual, “you’re joining my party.”

Your mind screeched to a halt. “Wait, what?”

“I said,” he repeated, leaning forward slightly, “you’re joining my party.” There was something in his tone that left no room for argument, but it didn’t make any sense. Jinwoo had always been the lone wolf. Solo raids were his thing. He didn’t need healers anymore—not with his own incredible healing factor.

“No—”

“I’m not asking.” And you berated yourself once again for being weak to his eyes, especially the current glowing ones. That beautiful, beautiful blue hue.

“Why? I mean, you don’t need me.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching onto the strange phrasing, and you suddenly felt the invisible tightness around your throat. Watch your words, Trial Player, the system’s voice echoed in your mind, a third reminder today that made your blood pressure spike every damn time.

The system wasn’t just blocking you from outright saying it; it was suffocating you, a warning wrapped in discomfort. You cursed yourself internally.

Jinwoo answer interrupted your thoughts, “Let’s just say… I’m curious. About you.”

Oh. Oh. What did you expect? This wasn’t about your healing abilities. He was suspicious of you. He knew something was off, and now he was keeping you close—keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and all that.

But you weren’t his enemy, were you?

You opened your mouth to argue further, but just as you were about to speak, the system chimed in again.

<You have been invited to join Player Sung Jinwoo’s party.

Trial Player (Name) cannot refuse this offer.

Would you like to accept?

{Yes}>

You internally screamed. Seriously?

"...I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?" You said, your cheeks were starting to hurt from forcing a smile throughout this conversation as you selected the only option on the screen.

Jinwoo smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "No, you don’t."

---

After discussing the details for your future joint raids, you watched Jinwoo’s back as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking sense of dread. You were trapped. Whatever game the system and Jinwoo were playing, you were caught in the middle. And now you were officially part of his party.

You sighed, slumping back into your chair. It was supposed to be a peaceful day. You should’ve known better.

[So, how have you been? ~]

“Shut it.”

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [013/10/2024] -

[cyarikaplease]

say no to this

step dad!din djarin x f!reader

summary: you have sex with your step dad in the mines of mandalore

warnings: explicit smut, must be 18 years or older to read, step-cest, if that is not your thing then please click away

Life on Mandalore has been nothing short of hectic. It’s not that you don’t like having the clans living amongst each other. But the fact of the matter is you don’t feel like Mandalore is your home. You didn’t grow up on Mandalore and based on the legends you didn’t understand why the others were so determined to come back. And now that you’re living here, you still don’t get it.

They’ve done their best to make the place feel more like a home. Houses made of stone have been built but they’re more utilitarian than cozy. They’re still trying to figure out what land can be used for farming and it’s a miracle no one’s starving yet.

And then there’s your mother. Your mother decided to get remarried once you got settled here and she chose to marry none other than Din Djarin. You expected your mom to get married again sooner or later. She’s been lonely since your father passed away during battle many cycles ago. But you didn’t expect her to marry Din. You’ve heard the rumors about him but you didn’t meet him until right before everyone went to reclaim Mandalore. You didn’t have time to address your attraction to him back then but that’s when it started. Between the saunter in his step, how broad he is, and his brilliant silver armor you’re head over heels. Not to mention how good he is with his then-foundling and now son, Grogu.

He’s been the only person concerned about your transition to life on Mandalore. As if your attraction to Din needed to grow any deeper. Your mother has been busy with Bo-Katan and the Armorer, developing infrastructure and surveying land for farming. Which left you alone with Din and Grogu. He’s been great with checking in with you here and there.

On the rare occasions when he went with the others to attend to matters, you were left to watch over Grogu. And it made you seethe with jealousy. Not that you didn’t like watching Grogu. You just felt like you should be out there with your man. Because deep down, you developed not only a crush but a slightly possessive one at that.

You think he feels it, too. There have been times when his visor lingers on you. And although you can’t see his face like he can see yours, you can only imagine what his expression is like underneath his helmet. Or it’s a pat on your shoulder or his hand on the small of your back as he’s trying to scooch behind you. It’s literally anything. It doesn’t matter what because your mind has convinced you that he wants you like you want him. Sometimes you think you’re crazy, that you’re foolish for believing that your stepdad could possibly be into you.

But maybe you’re not so crazy after all.

It’s another typical day for you. You’re sitting outside, looking up at the muddled atmosphere. You sense Din beside you out of your peripheral, towering above you.

“Doing alright?” he asks, crouching down to sit beside you. He sets Grogu down, letting him waddle around on the rocks, lifting a few of the small ones with the Force.

“Not really. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. What can I help you with?”

“Probably nothing. I’m just never going to get used to this place being home.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“What is it?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“What about doing some things to feel more connected to the creed?”

“Like what?”

“Have you visited the Living Waters?”

“No.”

“I would start there.”

“I thought you only had to go there if you messed up. You know… like you did,” you joke.

“Very funny,” he deadpans.

“But I’ll go if you think it’ll help.”

He scoops Grogu into his arms and stands, offering his free hand to help you up. You grab your helmet and take his hand, standing so close to him it makes your stomach flutter. You look down before replacing your helmet on your head and see his hand flex after he lets it go. And it leaves you wondering what that could mean.

You bid him goodbye, feeling his visor burn a hole into you walk away. The journey to the Living Waters is uneventful. Most if not all of the threats were cleared out by the others a while ago.

Once you get there you take off your helmet and jetpack, sitting on the stone floor by the water's edge and enjoying the solitude. It’s actually peaceful down here and you hate feeling that way. You’ve gotten so used to being apathetic about every aspect of this place that feels weird to enjoy something here for once. Since moving here you’ve gotten used to being alone, since your mother and the other clan members have been so busy. Aside from the moments with Din and Grogu, of course. But here it feels like you’re alone on your own terms like you chose for it to be this way instead of the others just abandoning you.

“How are you doing?” a voice says behind you.

You startle with a jolt, turning your torso to get a glance at who’s there. It’s Din, of course. Who else would it be? No one else cares this much to come all this way to see how you’re doing. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him but you must’ve been too far in your own head, reflecting.

“I don’t mind it down here,” you say, turning to face the water again.

He detaches his jetpack and sits beside you like he did on the surface, but this time he spins around to face your side, back nice and straight up nice and straight with his hands resting on his knees. You scooch around to meet him in the middle, both of you facing each other. Grogu’s noticeably absent this time.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Playing with the other younglings.”

“My mother?”

“Still with Bo-Katan and the others. Something about planting a few test crops to see how they take.”

“Ahh.”

“Just admit you like it down here,” he says. You can just by his voice that he’s wearing a smug grin on his face.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes, “But don’t tell anyone. Or else they’ll start asking me to help out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just glad something finally got you to feel better. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. You turn your head back towards the water and ask, “But why do you care so much?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care if I’m happy or not?”

“I know what it’s like to move to a strange place, to feel like you don’t fit in.”

You stifle a snort, prompting him to ask, “What?”

“When have you ever felt like you didn’t fit in?” you say, turning your head back towards him.

“Lots of times. Especially when I’m the only Mandalorian in a room.”

“Oh yeah? So what did you do to make yourself feel better?”

“It’s empowering not to fit in.”

“How so?”

“It means there’s something about you that sets you apart from the others.”

“I don’t think I have that.”

“You do. You just don’t see it.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your spunk.”

“My spunk?”

“Yeah. You’re not afraid to let your mother have it. That’s for sure.”

That gets you to laugh, a real laugh. Maker, you haven’t laughed or felt this much joy since before you moved here.

“Thanks for saying all that,” you say, inching closer to him.

“I mean it,” he says, leaning forward.

Without thinking you inch closer even more and now the gap between you two is almost nonexistent. You gaze directly into his visor, imagining what he looks like underneath his helmet. As if he read your mind, he gravitates his hands towards the bottom edge of his helmet, lifting it off of his head. You throw your hand over your eyes out of respect. Is he crazy? He just redeemed himself for doing this not that long ago.

“You can look. We’re a part of the same clan after all.”

His voice. His unmodulated voice.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yes really,” he chuckles.

You put your hand back in your lap slowly, taking in his appearance. He’s better than you ever could’ve imagined. His brown curls are slightly matted from his helmet, albeit in a cute way. His facial hair is slightly graying along his jawline. And his eyes, so warm and brown they make you melt.

You’re so close to him that his warm breath tickles your face. He’s so intoxicating it makes your mind short-circuit. Without thinking you lean forward, closing the small and almost nonexistent gap between you two, pressing your lips against his. He freezes, his body going tense and stiff before melting into the kiss. His hand finds your chin, his rugged and calloused fingers gingerly touching your skin. The kiss grows more and more passionate; more heated. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging for access. But it’s almost like that brings you back down to reality. This isn’t just any man you’re kissing. This is your stepdad.

You pull back and look at the water again, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flustered you are.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were just acting on your feelings.”

“My feelings?” you say, looking at him again and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, your feelings. It was only a matter of time before you acted on them.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“H-How long have you known?”

“A while. Since before your mother and I got married.”

You place your head in your hands, mortified and groaning in embarrassment. You feel him inch closer again, bringing his head by your ear like he’s whispering a secret.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I feel the same way,” he whispers, tickling the shell of your ear.

“You do?!” you ask in disbelief, poking your head up.

“Mhm,” he says, kissing you again with the same grip on your chin.

“But aren’t we breaking the creed?” you ask, pulling away again but hovering over his lips.

“Look where we are, cyar’ika. We can just bathe in the Living Waters after.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Relax, mesh’la. Let me take care of you.”

He gently pushes you so you’re lying on the stone floor. He pulls off one of his gloves and hovers over you, ghosting his fingers over the fly on your flight suit. You’re embarrassed by how wet you are already. But it’s natural given how much you’ve fantasized about this moment. You just didn’t expect it to take place here beside the Living Waters.

He opens the fly of your flight suit and palms the wetness in your underwear. His mouth curves into a devious smirk before he bites his bottom lip. You look down between your legs and see the bugle in his fight suit, his cock hard and straining against the fabric.

“You’re so wet, cyar’ika. I’ve barely touched you.”

You whimper in response and he chuckles darkly, watching as you writhe under his touch. He loves every minute of it.

“Have you touched yourself and thought of me?”

Your mouth opens to respond but no words come out, surprised at his bold question.

“You can tell me, cyar’ika.”

“Y-Yes,” you admit.

“What did you think about?”

“Uh, something not too far off from this.”

“Tell me,” he repeats.

“You sneaking into my room at night, touching me while I sleep.”

“Dirty girl,” he says, resting on the back of his heels. He opens your flight suit more, taking your underwear in his hands and ripping apart the fabric. You gasp but he doesn’t stop, tearing your underwear in half before pulling them off of you and tossing them to the side.

“Din!” you say, turning your head and glancing at the strewn fabric.

“Need you. Now,” he grunts, taking his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, slicking them with his saliva. You spread your thighs apart farther, aching for his touch already. He slides his pointer finger inside you, curling it painstakingly slowly against your g-spot.

“Mm, Din please, I need more,” you whine.

“Are you begging?” he asks, hovering his face mere inches above yours.

“Kriff… Yes, I am.”

“Say it.”

“I need more… more fingers,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his middle finger inside you.

Soon the cavern is filled with your moans, echoes bouncing off the rocky walls. He brings his head over your cunt, spitting a wad of saliva over your clit before rubbing his thumb over it. Your back arches up off the floor and he steadies you with his other hand on your hip.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers, cyar’ika. Can you do that for me?”

“Harder,” you beg.

He obliges, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit. With one last push against your g-spot, you cum, walls clenching and releasing his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, astonished at the amount of wetness you produced.

You ride out your high with a jumbled string of moans, whimpers, and curse words, letting your orgasm subside. He pulls his hand from you, holding his fingers above your mouth. They glisten under the dim lights of the mine.

“Open,” he commands.

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth for him. He places his fingers inside your mouth and you taste yourself on your tongue. He guides your mouth close with a hand on your jaw, commanding again, “Suck my fingers.”

Once he’s decided you’ve done enough, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and grabs your chin, kissing you deeply while his other hand pulls out his cock. He rests on his heels and takes off his other glove, gathering your spend and slathering it on his cock. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a look and somehow it’s more than you could’ve ever imagined it to be— long, thick, and uncut.

“Are you ready, cyar’ika?” he asks, hovering over you again and coaxing you to lie back down.

You nod and he thrusts into you slowly, burying himself down to the hilt.

“You feel so good like this pussy was made for me,” he says, nestling his head into the crook of your neck and sinking his teeth in your skin. Your response is barely coherent, another mix of moans and curse words.

“Use your words, cyar’ika.”

“Harder, p-please. I can take it.”

He pokes his head up and meets your gaze again, lips curled into that damn devious smirk.

“I knew you could,” he says before kissing you. He draws his hips and slams into you. It’s a symphony of pants, whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, squelching sound your pussy makes. You tangle your hands in his hair, tugging on it lightly. He moans into the kiss and thrusts into you harder, until you cum around his cock. He pulls his head back and studies your face as you cum. Tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm ripples through you, core muscles spasming erratically.

“Good girl,” he says, repeating it over and over again while the pace of his thrusts never falters.

He cums inside you, balls deep and hitting the deepest angles inside you. You’re filled with the warm feeling of his release, looking at his face as he cums. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a soft O. The curls on his forehead are matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead. You can’t help but absentmindedly bring a hand to his cheek and stroke his facial hair. He’s beautiful.

He pulls out of you and sits between your legs. The post-orgasm clarity is settling in and you’re left with the reality of what just happened. You zip up your flight suit and sit up, looking at him with a wild expression in your eyes.

“What now?”

“Into the waters we go.”

He puts his cock away and stands up, offering you his hand. You stand and walk down the steps with him, slowly submerging yourself in the water, never letting go of his hand.

“Repeat after me: I swear on my name. And the names of the Ancestors, that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor… and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

You say the phrase back to him, looking in his eyes the entire time. Although you’ve just repented for your transgressions, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t matter. The feelings you have for him only run deeper after what just happened.

He leads you out of the water where you replace your helmets and reattach your jetpacks. He turns to you one last time before leaving and says, “No one can know.”

“No one can know,” you repeat before he takes off and you’re left with the stillness of it all, wondering if that will be the first and last time you have sex with your stepdad.

[testingmoloch]

Round two of going through your blog and taking note of really interesting posts.

So my first thought is that I think this scenario would lead to a lot of more divergent populations than convergent ones, primarily due to artificial selection of gametes. I think a vaguely "autistic" population on a generation ship would have massive practical and emotional drift towards deliberate genetic tampering. I get the impression that a lot of cultures with this leaning have much more sympathy to various forms of eugenics and transhumanism than is typical among the general population, and living on a generation ship seems to strongly imply a need for active intervention in the gene pool due to smaller genetic diversity and, in lower tech variations, possibly radiation damage. The possible need for population control to keep a steady state (plausible but not certain depending on strategy and technology) also seems to suggest a general cultural push in this direction.

Given this kind of pressure, I think the actual cognition of the populations would actually diverge from each other relatively rapidly as contingent factors and small shifts in starting conditions embedded themselves into the population, and modified genotypes began to iterate with their own children. I have a very vague thought of an end state thematically similar to pre-modern Japan, where the various cultures of spacers think of themselves as incredibly diverse due to this kind of variation, but miss the ways that they converged due to the bottleneck and lack an appreciation for just what kind of possibilities there are. I think first contact with cultures without that bottleneck, such as far future Earth, modern Earth, or an alien race might be incredibly disorienting to this culture, as they might have a strong narrative that combined the ways the bottleneck shaped them as basic parts of cultural progress they assume would repeat in any advancing civilization.

I do think the largest conceptual issue here is that I would expect that any civilization capable of sending out a generation ship would likely have technology that would overwhelm the proposed genetic bottleneck, with advanced AI and genetic engineering leading to biological immortality and significant cognitive enhancement of the population. Avoiding this seems particularly difficult in this scenario, as the kind of cultural taboos that would seem to suggest an aversion to human enhancement or AI dominance would almost certainly decay in the bottleneck scenario. I think you might need something rather strange, such as a caretaker AI with very particular boundaries for intervention, for the genetic bottleneck factor to be a primary influence on subsequent societies.

Thought living rent free in my head:

The future of space travel belongs more to the person with the 50 Bad Dragon dildos than it does to anyone resembling a midcentury test pilot.

The person who can live in 24/7 HVAC while staring at a screen, *that* is what golden age writers couldn't envision when they imagined that generation ships would just fall into disorder.

It's gooners that are optimized to be the middle generation on a gen ship.

Gooners are the future.

[gottalovetumbler]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 9

ⁱᵈᵏ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Info: sorry this is unfinished, pt 2 will be day 10, I got off work at 11:30 and had to drive home through a blizzard so I don’t have the energy to finish it anytime before tomorrow at like 6pm so I figured I’d get this half out now and finish it tomorrow, use of Y/N (sorry lmao), cussing (ofc)

——— 😏 ———

You wake with a start. Heart already bumping blood through your ears as you slowly scan the dimly lit room. It’s unlikely that whoever was here last would be back, but not impossible. Deeming the coast clear you slide out of bed. Static shocks through the blanket and sheets as you move.

Clock says it’s 11:45 and lunch gets served at 12 and not wanting another visitor from dark side Bobble (please tell me yall get this reference) you throw on some pants and make your way to the Cafeteria. Slippers quietly squeaking in the empty hall as you go.

Maybe if you just peak your head in, just enough for Bobble and Vel to see you, then they’ll lay off and you can go back to sulking. The white noise of talking grows louder the closer you get to the multiple sets of double doors.

Should be easy enough. The cafeteria is huge and the little 141 crew typically sit in the far back corner, furthest from the entrance right infront of you. So they shouldn’t see you super easily but the guy from last night, he’s expecting you so hopefully he’ll be on the look out.

It’s like a giant pack of starving wolves when you peak around the entrance to see in. There people shoveling food into their mouth like this is their last meal ever, some are even playfully fighting each other for the last cookie or bread loaf. This only cements the fact that you don’t like eating with everyone else and prefer to come by later and eat. Glancing around some more, you take stock of the familiar faces.

Chase is in the food line, dishing out a soup of some kind, already looking tired and it’s not even 15 minutes into the hour long lunch yet. As suspected, the 141 & co are in the back corner. Everyone’s there, including Bobble and Vel and they all seem to be chatting. Not planning or preparing for a mission but just chatting. Like long time friends.

You still have 4 approved days of leave but maybe you should go help Chase out. He’s looking worse for wear and last thing you need is him getting injured some stupid way like you were. Maybe if you’re sly enough you could slip into the back of the kitchen and help with making food or something.

Ghost is busy keeping something out of Soaps reach while also standing in the corner and surveying the room. Gaz, Price, Nikolai and Rudy are playing something with cards. Ale and Val are arguing over something on a laptop screen. Nikto and Konig are stood together about 6 feet away from ghosts on the same wall, also surveying. Finally, Bobble and Vel are just leaned back in their seat, facing forward. Though if you had to guess, they’re probably talking to each other just not showing it.

The counter is roughly 25 feet away whereas the table holding all your issues, is over 60 feet away. Should be easy enough to slip in and help a little, then on the way out you’ll wave to Bobble to show you came and head back to bed.

After double checking and making sure everyone’s preoccupied, you shuffle your way to kitchen door, fling it open and slip inside. You may have used a bit to much force with door because it hits the wall with a resounding SLAM

The noise wasn’t loud enough to draw attention but to make sure you peak through the opening above the counter. No one seems to have noticed till you lock eyes with none other than motherfucking Bobble and quickly drop to the ground.

‘HOLY SHIT!,‘ Now THAT was enough to draw attention. ‘Y/N? What the fuck are you doing on the ground?’

‘Chase, shut the fuck up! Do you want me to get caught! I’m here to help you dipshit, you look like you’re already one foot in the grave.’ You scold, army crawling towards the corner of the kitchen both to block the view of you to anyone else but to also grab your apron stored there.

‘Scolded for what? You’re on leave but it’s not mandatory. No one’s gonna care whether you actually relax or-.’

‘No one's gonnae care if who relaxs or nae? Th' only person ah know who shuid be relaxing is y/n bit she's also ben keepin herself cooped up fur nearly 5 days wi'oot talking tae a'body. Ah swear if she's left her room 'n' didnae come 'n' see me foremaist ah'ament gonnae be very happy.’

A quick glance at your face tells Chase he’s already fucked up so, bless his heart, he attempts to damage control.

‘Ah hello Soap! I’m not sure what you’re talking about haha! Are you wanting second-‘

‘Is she back there?’ Dammit

‘Umm…. no?’

‘No? You sure you wanna lie to me soldier? If I look back there and I see her in those fucking plaid pajama pants and pink slippers, you’re gonna wish you were never born.’

‘Oh…. well you see….. she….’

‘you’re gonna wish you were never born, meh meh meh.’

‘’m sorry I must be hearin things. I swear I just heard a little bird mock me. Did you hear anything Johnny?’

‘Aye sir. Ah believe it cam from th' kitchen richt infront o' us.’

‘Tha’ so? I could’ve sworn who I just heard swore she’d never leave her little-‘

‘Ok ok, can you guys stop now. You know I’m back here now either get the food or get out of line, you’re causing a backup.’

Sure enough, there was now a line of 50+ soldiers all waiting for their food. Growing hungrier by the second but not stupid enough to say anything. Price opens his mouth, seemingly to say something back at you but you just shoo him away.

——— tbc ———

[shatcey]

Dark IF (William)

The main part of this event basically coincides with William's main story. I'm not even kidding. The same situations, the same words… At first I was pretty sad about it but… the endings are really good.

Of course, I finished both of them. I liked the bitter ending better. Perhaps, like certain someone (who say the exact opposite), I love drama too much.

After Victor send Kate to the twisted word with parting words "it's in you hands to find the happy ending..." Kate recalled...

Not creapy at all... all things considered...

As soon as Kate appears in the twisted world, she meets Cheshire cat Liam. Who introduced himself quite happily. Suddenly the bell rings. And Liam explained that this meant that someone had been beheaded on the orders of King of Hearts William. And this is a common occurrence in this world.

Kate seemed to ask too many questions about William, and Liam asked if she was interested in him. But no, she just needs to find what's missing. The lying Fox Harrison appeared. And Liam recommends him as an informant.

I'm not in a position to judge, but if someone was presented as a "liar"… why would you trust him? And even more so to buy information from him? Who knows what he's telling you. Well, we all know that we can trust Harry, but this is her first time meeting him. There's no way she could have known about it.

Kate had nothing to pay, so she decided to look for information on her own. Liam told her about William's abilities and advised her to be cautious around him.

She decided that it would be very stupid to meet William without preparation. This guy must be crazy (these are her thoughts, not mine). She resolutely went to the city and… found herself in front of his castle. It's really a destiny.

She looked at the strangely familiar castle (familiar to me, not to her), but decided that she shouldn't go there…

How did he manage to jump so high? Is he magical? Don't tell me it's Benjamin… Wait a minute… Jewel? Victor? Are you playing matchmaker again, you little... rabbit?

And, of course, there were no guards or servants in this castle, so no one stopped her, and she ended up in the dining room with William… There may have been servants there, but they've been turned into furniture or something. Oh, sorry… the wrong fairy tale…

How did he know her name? He… сan't read minds for real this time, can he?

…and we on his main route. Do fun stuff and became free from the morality and expectations of society. And, of course, Kate fell for him very hard. Nothing new.

A sudden thought…. Are we stuck on Groundhog Day by any chance?

She couldn't find what is missing so returned to Harrison. Harry asked her what she would give him for this information.

Harry replied with his canonical "that's not half bad" and told her about William.

It turns out that the people William executes have committed terrible crimes in the past, but cannot be judged by the law. So he chooses the path of destroying "evil with evil". Strangely familiar isn't? And since the bells were ringing at that time, many people were so scared of it that the number of crimes in this country decreased significantly.

And as a bonus, he added that there is Mad Hatter who is plotting something against William. He wants to dethrone William and take his place. Indeed, this guy is crazy.

Kate returns to the castle and asks William to explain himself. So he tells her about why he frees people. He said exactly the same as he said on his route. A selfish observer… something like that. And he asks her what she wants, and… she tell him. And in the morning she wakes up in his bed, remembering last night and blushing. Typical Kate.

But she noticed opened letter and read it…

And here we have two endings. The developers don't give any recommendations, but it seems to me that chronologically the bitter ending comes first. You'll understand what I mean.

Bitter ending

Kate remembered her conversation with Harry and decided that she needed to warn Will about Mad Hatter. But she searched the whole castle and couldn't find him. She thinks he's probably gone to the court, and she has a very bad feeling about it.

She ran out of the castle, just wondering for a moment where exactly the court was, and Liam ran up to her. Explaining that there was a commotion in the court, but he didn't see her and became worried. Kate asked him to show her which way the court was, which he did.

In court, the final verdict is announced by the judge

I'm so glad it's not Vivi. This guy is really crazy.

The guards pulled out their guns and pointed them at William. Wait a minute… Are you going to do it right here? There will be blood everywhere… Oh, you have red carpets, so there's nothing to worry about. Okay, continue.

At the last moment… Kate jumped out of nowhere and covered Will with her body. I really thought he was going to die this time… But that's impossible when Kate is around.

Right, we need Roger! Roger, where are you? Oh... right... the wrong fairy tale... again

He asks her why she did it, and she replies that she doesn't know, her body moved on its on. She loses consciousness due to blood loss and doesn't hear his words.

I have goosebumps. This is so…

She thinks that she still cannot leave, she has forgotten something… In the black void of nothingness, she finally remembered. Then she was a child and could do whatever she liked, she visited Wonderland and met the king of hearts. They spent several days together, and she did whatever she wanted, and if she was in danger, William protected her. But he said she had to come home. As parting words, he asked her to be honest about her wishes. She asked him what if she became the one who wouldn't do it?

Oh, so this is what she heard at the beginning?...

Kate opens her eyes and find herself in the library. There is no pain or blood on her. She's definitely returned back to the real world. She remembers everything. She promised to protect him when they met again, but she forgot about it. And because of that, she faced such a bad ending. She looks around and thinks that, despite the fact she return to the real world, this place seems bleak. Because her lover is not here…

She thinks that even if she finds herself in Wonderland again, the same ending may await her. But her heart is free, and it screams that she wants to see him again… And this time with determination to find her happy ending… she "jumps" into the book.

Victor and Harrison are in the theater-like place. Harry informs Victor that Kate will be coming back to them soon.

I'm not sure if Vivi said "you", he could say "we" or "me"… I didn't take a screenshot with JP's text.

So… this endless sad circle can only be broken with a happy ending. And for that, she just needs to find what is missing…

Premium ending

Kate read the letter and decided to warn William again, but this time he came up to her with a tray of tea.

Oh, can you make tea? Why am I even surprised, you're the same perfect self.

She asks him about a letter and what he plans to do. Of course he will come, because that's what he has to do to stay true to himself. She reply he could be killed… But he doesn't think that's a big deal. Kate clings to his jacket to keep him from leaving… And we're back to his route…

Kate begged him to cancel the order, not to leave her… But he only smiled and kissed her on the forehead. The door closed and Kate wondering why this William's kiss seemed so familiar to her. And she remembered memories from her childhood. When they parted, she promised to protect him the next time they met, he laughed and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

They must be magical…

So… Remembering everything, she was even more determined to help him, but that she could possibly do… Scream, girl, it always works if you need to attract attention.

But she didn't even have to do that, Liam came in. She's freed from Will's order and can run after him, and the same as it was at the Bitter ending, she asked Liam to show the way.

In court, the judge passes the same sentence, the guards point guns at Will, and Kate jumps in front of him again

Will laughs and asks her why she acted like it was the end. Kate suddenly realized that she didn't feel any pain. She looked at the place where she thought she had been shot.

As I thought… The watch is magical… It catches all the bullets.

Will looked around at the people in court, ordered them to "Not move" and called Harrison over. Harry showed up and explained that Mad Hatter was spreading false rumors about William, but in fact these were his crimes. And members of parliament take bribes to hide them. Criminals!

William said that if it was only Mad Hatter's sincere wish, he would have allowed himself to be killed. But Mad Hatter started destroying other people's lives, and he can't forgive him. So…

And again, it's good that they have red carpets… What am I saying?..

Several days later Kate and William are having a crazy tea party for two in the dining room. Kate asks if he knows what is missing. She hasn't returned home, so she still hasn't found it. He says if she wants to come home, he won't stop her. But she means exactly the opposite. If she had known what was missing, she would never have found it to stay with him forever.

So he has a theory, but...

This kind of won't help… I'll definitely forget what we talked about in an instant…

I didn't buy epilogue, but I probably will… if so, I will write about it later. If there's anything in it besides "hot stuff". And… if there's still a point in it. This event will most likely take place on the EN server in late November or early December.

My thoughts

I really like the way they combine everything together. The clock, the voice she heard, the feeling that she had forgotten something important… It's really amazing. At first, I was really upset that story was repeated. But the developers managed to create a new version based on the old one, and it's really amazing. After a slight change in the key points, everything looks completely different. Will's magic call was presence on the main route, but it was a subtle hint like her deep thoughts. This is the main key here. He called her, he lured her into this world. The first, the second time… maybe millions of times. And she continued to follow his call. It really feels like destiny.

I'm actually really curious… If William's story is so similar with his route, maybe other's stories as well? I haven't read Alfons's story, I was waiting for it to appear on the EN server, so I can't be sure.

I really like the idea of Victor as a god-like character, a kind of storyteller… who knows how the story should be like… and don't stop until it's exactly like that. Or… I have goosebumps… he is destiny itself.

And I'm really interested to know what the role of the Fox is in this world… Why does he remember everything, even if everyone's memories supposed to be reset?

In addition, I want to say that the part in the real world on the bitter ending is written so well that I was tempted to show you the whole scene. But I was stopped by the number of screenshots that I could put in one post. I really like it, it gives me goosebumps, no matter how many times I reread it. And yes, I cried… It's too good…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[osamusbigtits]

it's an odd day for motoya. he's spending time with osamu and osamu alone. they haven't really gotten much one on one time. typically, suna is with them. suna is the one who brought motoya into the relationship.

but sitting here on the couch, watching a cheesy romcom with osamu, motoya wonders if he's doing it wrong. this whole dating his boyfriend's boyfriend thing.

osamu's been very involved with suna and motoya. and motoya never minds; in fact, he loves the added attention. he's gotten time alone with suna, for then to talk and explore and figure things out.

but motoya isn't quite sure where he stands with osamu.

motoya chances a glance over at the man. osamu sits casually, legs spread and an arm thrown on the back of the couch. he checks his phone with every occasional ping. motoya assumes there's a myriad of things osamu must worry about ranging from his restaurant to his twin brother.

motoya checks his phone to a rather apparent lack of notifications. he frowns.

osamu sits up and stretches. motoya shamelessly watches the flex of osamu's muscles and his eyes dart to osamu's tummy when his shirt lifts up and exposes the skin.

"hungry?" osamu asks.

motoya takes a moment to collect himself. "I could eat," he manages to reply.

osamu hums and stands up. "I'll whip us up something real quick, darling," he says and walks away. motoya's face flushes at the pet name.

motoya brings his focus back to the movie. he gets easily immersed in the story. he loves a good romcom, especially one where the main character is stuck in an internal battle of what man to choose.

"there's a clear answer," motoya mutters to himself as the main character hashes out her grievances to her best friend. "the one tried hitting on your best friend."

"you're so cute," a voice appears beside motoya, making him jump. osamu laughs. "sorry, didn't mean to scare you. here you go." he hands over a plate. some rice with some beef in a sauce.

motoya takes the plate happily, always excited to eat osamu's cooking. "nah, I'm just jumpy," motoya says, brushing osamu off.

motoya takes a bite of food and hums in pleasure as the flavors dance along his tongue. even something so simple can taste so good. it makes motoya a little jealous. his cooking skills extend to basic meals, mostly being able to heat up a frozen meal.

"that good?" osamu asks.

"I don't know how you do it," motoya mumbles, taking another bite. "but everything you make is heavenly," motoya finishes with a sigh.

osamu laughs, but when motoya sneaks a look over, he can sew a faint blush on osamu's cheeks.

motoya hesitates. he should ask osamu about cooking, right? why does this feel worse than a first date?

"what got you into cooking?" motoya asks. he watches osamu as he continues to eat, hoping that it was a good question to ask.

osamu lights up. "my ma always brought me and tsumu into the kitchen. she thought cooking was an important skill, and it turned into sort of a hobby for me. in high school is when I really started to cook on my own and try to experiment," osamu rambles with a smile on his face.

"oh yeah! suna's talked about how you would make lunches for him."

osamu flushes. "yeah, my crush wasn't subtle."

motoya giggles. "still took suna a while to notice, didn't it?"

osamu smiles. "it did."

they lapse into silence. osamu continues eating peacefully, a small smile on his face. motoya sets his plate down and let's his mind wander.

"what are... I mean, how do you feel about... me?" motoya asks. he keeps his eyes firmly on the tv, even as he feels osamu peering at him.

osamu hums, taking a moment to think.

"I think you're cute and I do like the time we spend together." heat rushes to motoya's face at the simple compliments. "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better or even date you. but I want to put the ball in your court. yknow? I never want to force you into something you don't want."

motoya takes a moment to think. he plays with a loose thread on the couch.

"can we?" motoya asks and meets osamu's eyes. "date. I mean."

osamu searches motoya's eyes and for a moment, motoya wonders if he shouldn't have asked. but osamu smiles, soft and warm like the smiles he gives to suna. warmth rushes through motoya's chest.

"I would love to, sweetie," osamu murmurs. he reaches out and takes motoya's hand.

motoya relaxes. "thank god. I was a little scared you hated me and thought I was ruining your relationship," motoya admits.

osamu laughs and wraps an arm around motoya's shoulders. "please. rin and I don't need any help ruining our relationship. besides, you're too adorable to hate."

motoya weakly pushes osamu's shoulder. "you're too much."

motoya smiles as osamu kisses his cheek.

why didn't he do this sooner?

[red-room-studi0]

Silent Hill: Gone Turbo

HE IS HERE AND HE IS HERE TO SUFFER!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

I will now tell the tale of this silly little guy ✨

In this Au, Litwak’s arcade is located in Silent Hill.

This event happens after the road blasters incident and after the Arcade closes temorarily for a while. 

Turbo and the Twins never survived the Road Blasters incident. But the day the arcade closed, Turbo was reborn inside the arcade in human form. Turbo wakes up seeing the arcade empty and confused as to why he’s inside an empty arcade. The cabinet games were looked to have been shut down (in the real world the cames are still plugged in and still running). Turbo’s memory of his life and what he had done has been erased. He only remembers his own name the Twins, Glitching and the town he lives in. 

Turbo exits the Arcade and wanders the ghost town and takes time to get used to the environment and take time to think and all that stuff. Turbo eventually comes to the theory that the Twins are probably somewhere in the town and decides to go out and find them. In the typical Silent Hill fashion, He runs into monsters, people who are also looking for someone or something, people who want to kill him and all that stuff.

During Turbo’s journey he learns more about the town, The Order, the fire incident and just about anything there is to know about the town. 

The twins ARE present. But the’re only visibly seen by Turbo and are not there for him for any good intentions. The twins exist in the Town as demonic spirits to Turbo to torment Turbo, ofc Turbo doesn’t remember what he has done until later and would live the rest of his human life in guilt and regret after defeating the twins. 

Turbo would finally understand why he was reborn in the town. The monster infested town is his Hell. And he has to forever live in it until he finally accepts what he has done and forgives himself for it and promises himself and the arcade to be a better person. 

There are Four endings you can choose from bassed on how you would like the ending to be.

Turbo moves on and forgives himself and decides to be a better person and forgive himself on what he has done. Turbo in this ending decides to find Litwack and help him through harsh times becoming his close friend and help him run the Arcade.

Turbo never forgives himself and forever blames himself for what he has done to hurt his twin friends that he was close too like they were his siblings (Turbo and the Twins are not related) and other people (even before the Road Blasters incident). He decides to forever force and drown himself in his sorrows, guilt and pain. forever live in the alternate nightmare of the town that is his Hell. Forever.

The UFO ending (if you’re a Silent Hill fan then you know lol-)

The Dog ending (again if ur a Silent Hill fan, you know)

Side Story: This is mostly about Litwack and as to why the Arcade has Temporarily closed.

Mr. Litwak’s wife had fallen severely ill to an unknown disease after Road Blasters and Turbo Time got unplugged. A week later Litwaks wife succumbs to the illness. Litwak becomes severely depressed and temprorarily closes the Arcade so he can get well and make funeral arrangements. Litwak never had another employee or assistant to help him continue run the Arcade during harsh times.

FUN FACTS: As a way for Turbo to save his progress, he uses an Nintendo NES console to save. He uses an unknown NES cartridge to put in the console and save. Throught the process of Turbo’s journey, the image on the cartridge slowly appears and becomes visible. Once fully visible the game title and image reveals to be “Turbo Time”. Which unlocks another memory for Turbo.

Another fun fact, at a point through Turbo’s journey he comes across two red cars that appeared to have collided into eachother. One is fully red and the other is red with a familiar white stripe. The white striped car seems to be the one that has caused the crash and looks to have “T boned” into the other car. The person in the car appears to be dead and looks to be veary familliar to a racer dressed in all white. The face though is completely unrecognizable as the face has been completely crushed and disfigured. A gold medal sits next to the dead body and is ised to unlock a door (yay know like your typical horror game puzzle/key fashion). This unlocks another vague memory, but Turbo didn’t know that the dead body was supposed to represent him after the incident. 

Another fun fact: Turbo’s last name “Torrenz” was a last name he had given himself from a poster when he was talking to a cop.

ANYWAY thx for reading! This was actually sm fun to makkkeeeee hehehehehehe 💖💖💖

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (13) - Moving Through the Silence Without Motion

Whew- sorry, this one took longer than anticipated!! I was on vacation last weekend and couldn't make the last-minute changes I wanted to make that would have allowed me to post on Tuesday, but it's all done now! ☺ Back on schedule!

✧˖ Release Schedule: Every 2 Weeks ˖✧

Summary: The camp deals with the aftermath of their encounter with the dream visitor, and a certain fluffy friend joins their odd group of misfits. Ofelia experiences another embarrassing predicament, and their party finally enters the goblin camp to face down the three leaders and clear the way for the tieflings in the Grove. Branded by a priestess, rediscovering the luxury of coffee, and sharing a sweet opportunity with her favorite fanged companion aren't enough to cushion the blow of reality all while Astarion tries to sort through emotions he would rather not address.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,603

AO3

Took some fun screenshots!! Please enjoy the opening below the cut ❤

✧˖Tag List: @khywren @allymcfee

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart pokes her face into Ofelia’s tent, pale and clammy. Ofelia scrambles to wipe her tears away, nodding and meeting the half-elf’s eyes.

“Yeah… I think so… did you see it too?” Shadowheart’s lips set in a firm line, nodding softly.

“We all did. Here, it’s dawn… come out. Let’s all sit and talk around the fire.”

Ofelia heeds Shadowheart’s suggestion, pulling her boots on and fixing her hair into a loose bun, resolving to bathe before they start the day. Officially. She hesitates, once again finding her return to her bedroll to be a mystery.

The last thing she remembers is swaying in Astarion’s arms, thinking about how pretty he looked under the light of stars, music from her own world making her feel like they were in their own pocket in time, separated from the tadpole, the cult, all of it. She remembers wishing he’d been from Earth, that way she’d want to go back… And try as she might, she can’t bury these stupid feelings.

Her face flushes in shame at the memory of pressing that kiss to his cheek, that pang of longing when he hadn’t shoved her away but instead gazed at her in surprise… It makes forgetting that it happened ten times worse. Then she returned to her tent, somehow, a faint feeling of unease now clouding her mind. How did she get back? Did she go back alone? She can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something important, but she can’t put her finger on what it might be…

She walks out into the early dawn, stunned to find another surprise- a welcome one at that.

“Scratch!” Ofelia crumples to her knees as he runs up from beyond the outskirts of their camp, the rest of her groggy companions yelping or jumping out of the way as the dog barrels into her. “Oh, I’m so glad you're safe!” She mumbles into his fur as it pokes her neck and cheek and he nearly knocks her backward. He licks her face and barks and she scratches his ears, giving him little kisses on the snout and top of his head.

“Is that a dog? Oh my goodness!” Karlach cries tearfully, bringing a stick over. She seems to be talking to Scratch, but all Ofelia can hear are soft yips and excited growling. “He says he wants to stay if we’ve got the room?”

“Oh my god of course he can stay!” Ofelia sobs, wiping her eyes as Scratch licks the happy tears off her cheeks. “I love him so much,” She sniffles to Karlach and the two of them giggle and lead Scratch over to the fire as the rest of their companions huddle around.

“In addition to Lae’zel, we’re letting more than one mangy mutt stick around?” Astarion frowns, a sour look on his face. Ofelia scoffs as Gale hands her a steaming cup of tea, watching Lae’zel do no more than grunt and roughly shoulder the vampire out of the way on her path toward the fire. His affronted yelp and subsequent snarl make Ofelia laugh under her breath as she smiles at Gale in thanks and hands Scratch a couple of hunks of sausage from their stock.

“You all were approached in your sleep by the same visitor, weren’t you?” Astarion mutters, lips still twisted in displeasure. Ofelia regards his unkempt head of hair with an amused smile, feeling privileged to see him before he’s had a chance to put himself together for the day.

[twipsai]

omega and silver fic is up! ill put the full thing under the cut yayyy

~

Days and weeks and months melted together, years going by as his body rusted and decayed, warping itself beyond repair as fewer and fewer people dared to enter the Flame Core, fewer caring to check in on them.

He wasn’t conscious for a large portion of it. How could he be? Why would he be? Any reason to stay present was gone.

So he sat. He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

…

And then.

And then one day.

One day, something new. The feeling of something stirring against his chest awoke him from a multi-decade slumber. It took minutes, maybe hours, for all of his systems to come back online. The ones remaining, anyway. Everything hit him like bullets— two lifeforms detected, tactile input detected, loss of ammunition, left shoulder joint disconnected, motor functions offline…

Everything buzzed faintly.

Finally, he could see again.

He shifted his cameras down to see…

“CHILD.”

The kid’s eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards from being curled up against his side. A scream erupted from the child’s body. Analysis showed he was a hedgehog, about six, not matching anyone stored within his database.

Though, there weren’t many people around who did, anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Omega questioned, voice echoing unpleasantly against the cavern’s walls.

The child didn’t answer, his breathing picking up speed as his hands started to tremble. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at Omega.

“I BELIEVE I MAY HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. THIS WAS NOT MY INTENTION.”

It looked like the child couldn’t breathe, now, as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. He grasped a hand around his neck while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Somewhere in his data storage, something like a memory surfaced. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

At some point, someone he knew had something like this happen to them.

“INITIATING ‘COMFORT’ PROTOCOL.”

Through old, crackling speakers, a song started to play. Even with the terrible audio crunching, the piano still rang out as soft as ever. Slow notes drawled on. The lifeform behind him shifted. The child took about 3.49 seconds to visually indicate he had heard the music. His ears perked up and his terrified eyes softened. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-three seconds, the child’s heart rate decreased from 110 beats per minute to 100.

The first thing that tiny child squeaked out was, “Can you move?”

Omega responded after a moment to check. “NO.”

The child then slowly stood, inching forward on trembling legs to sit closer to the music. He leaned an ear to Omega’s chest where the sound crackled out from. He was way too warm for a tiny child, and if he wasn’t showing no other symptoms, Omega would have thought he was sick.

As the song steadily reached its conclusion, the child seemed about as relaxed as he was going to get.

“What is this?” he asked.

“GYMNOPEDIE NO. 1.”

The child looked up and squinted his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“IT’S A VERY OLD SONG FROM AN ESTIMATED 400 YEARS AGO.”

“A song? What’s a song?”

Omega was never very good at explaining the more… human aspects of life. The alive parts.

Others would be better suited to explain this.

He knew many that could’ve.

“A SONG IS TYPICALLY A COLLECTION OF NOTES PLAYED IN SUCCESSION TO CREATE A MELODY. WHY WERE YOU SLEEPING ON ME, CHILD?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I DO NOT CARE. YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION.”

The child’s grey quills flared out even more than they already had, and he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. “Your body is cold. It’s very warm here. I was just trying to cool off…”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“I think it’s Silver.”

“YOU ARE NOT SURE?”

“No.”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“I’m trying to get to Crisis City.”

That was an unfamiliar location. Omega checked his residual memory, and cross referenced it with previous data he had archived. “THE RUINS OF SOLEANNA.”

“Um. Maybe?”

“THE HEART OF IBLIS. INQUIRY: WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH?”

Silver sat down in the place where his left arm should have been, under exposed wires sparking threateningly. This close, Omega could see the scabs on his knees, the blood soaking through the messily-wrapped bandages, the cuts littering his arms and legs, his calloused hands and feet— he could see the determination in his eyes as he folded his hands in his lap and furrowed his brows. “I'm going to defeat Iblis.”

If Omega could laugh, he would. “DOES NOT COMPUTE. SILVER THE HEDGEHOG: SMALL, MORTAL, POWERLESS. IBLIS: GIANT, IMMORTAL, POWERFUL. I ASK AGAIN; WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR DEATH?”

“Because I have to! I have powers no one else has, if there's something I can do, then I wanna help!”

“FURTHER DATA NEEDED. WHAT POWERS DO YOU POSSESS, CHILD?”

“Um, someone told me its called psy– psycho— um—”

“PSYCHOKINESIS.”

“Yes! Psychokinesis!”

There was no telling how powerful the child actually was. Omega knew better than to underestimate children at this point, when three had accompanied him on adventure after adventure before the flames had consumed the world.

They were children. Most of his companions were. 

His chest suddenly felt strange. Felt. He tried to run a diagnosis on his power core, only to find that it was still destroyed. Nothing had changed about his state. What made that feeling?

“Excuse me, uh… sir?”

“OMEGA.”

“Huh?”

“THAT IS MY NAME. E-123 OMEGA.”

“Oh. Well, your eyes are glowing.”

Strange. Someone once said that he was very expressive— he thought it was what she called “sarcasm”, but then went on to explain all the little things she noticed about him, and how he reacts to things. It seemed that, even with almost all of his functions offline, he was still finding ways to express himself.

“Omega?”

“WHAT.”

Silver looked up at him shyly. “Can I lean on you again? It’s very hot in here, and you’re very cool…”

“I LACK THE PROPER MOTOR FUNCTION TO STOP YOU.”

“That’s why I asked.”

A memory surfaced. Covered in rust and cobwebs and ash.

A very long time ago, he was carrying someone gently, as gently as he could. This person was tired— he had been through a lot that week. He could barely stand. So he carried him to his room quietly, trying his best not to tear the blankets he used to tuck him in. He must not have done a very good job at being quiet, because he woke up to a degree.

“Omega,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed. “Don’t… don’t let anyone do anything to you. Even though you’re… you’re a robot… you should get to be your own person…”

He quietly took a step back. 

“YOUR MUMBLING IS INCOHERENT,” Omega replied. “TELL ME TOMORROW; I WILL STILL BE HERE.”

And he turned.

And left.

Silver, for one reason or another, was dragging up memories that he thought had been trapped in old storage. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a conversation with another person in over a hundred years. Maybe the long stretches of silence had a way of turning one into a poet.

“YES,” Omega finally replied, “YOU MAY LEAN ON ME.”

Silver crawled over his lap, smushing himself in between Omega’s in-tact arm and torso, forehead leaning against his upper arm. If Omega thought the child would listen, he would warn him about getting tetanus from his rusted fingers.

“I have a question now. Is that okay?”

“YES.”

“How old are you?”

“73,784.8 DAYS HAVE PASSED SINCE MY CREATION.”

“Uhhh… that’s a lot…”

Eggman didn’t program conversion to weeks, months, and years into his internal clock. Eventually it would stop counting up when it hit 999,999.999 days. It also meant that he had to mentally convert it himself. “APPROXIMATELY 200 YEARS.”

“Oh.”

…

The child looked up at him with impossibly large eyes.

“Oh! Were you around before Iblis was, Omega?!”

“YES—”

“Can you tell me about it?! Please! I’ve heard stories but— but not from someone who was there! You gotta tell me!”

Much to his dismay, Omega was finding this child amusing. And familiar. “WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?”

“Um, um…” When he was in thought, Silver fidgeted with his poncho’s hem. “Tell me about the sky!”

“...THE SKY?”

“Yes!”

Omega hadn’t been outside for most of his lifespan— he had spent it in the Flame Core. But he did remember that— “IT WAS GIANT.”

A massive expanse that blanketed the entire earth. A constant in a chaotic life. No matter where you went, the sky followed.

“IT WOULD CHANGE COLOR. MANY COMPARED IT TO A PAINTING.”

The child looked up at him with wonder in his eyes, absorbing every syllable.

“IT WAS THE ONE THING IN LIFE THAT REMAINED.”

Absolute awe was written on Silver’s face. 

Omega could make a well-informed guess of what awaited him outside the cavern if he was ever fixed.

“Can you tell me about the people?”

“YOU ASK MANY QUESTIONS.”

“I haven’t gotten this many answers before.”

They were his companions. Teammates. Friends, though, that was pushing it a little, as one of them would say. After so long to think about it, to put his feelings into words, he came to the conclusion that he must have cared about them. They were almost all gone, now. Almost. But he could remember watching them from afar, completely captivated by how they moved. It was all just play to most of them. They would train against each other, race across continents, get takeout in the middle of a mission… Everything was just another day. They laughed in the face of danger. They stood tall. They cared.

Oh, how they cared.

“I BELIEVE THEY WERE NOT VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE PEOPLE OF THIS TIME.”

“No?”

“NO. THEY WERE ALL JUST PEOPLE. MUNDANE.”

Silver knitted his brows together in thought, then pointed past where Omega’s cameras could reach, behind the two of them. “Was he there?”

But he knew.

He knew.

Knew who he was pointing to.

“YES.”

“What’s his name?”

“SHADOW.”

“Why is he trapped in there?”

While Omega couldn’t see him in his position, he knew exactly how Shadow looked. Arms up and cuffed with giant metal rings, attached to a hexagonal cage that stretched over him in a diamond shape, glowing pink and white. The image was committed to his long-term memory.

Perhaps it was better he couldn’t turn to see.

“HUMANITY THOUGHT HE WAS THE CAUSE OF THE FLAMES OF DISASTER.”

Silver stood and walked behind him. The tingle of apprehensiveness of having his back turned to a sentient being was duller than he remembered. “Was he?”

“NO,” he could say for certain. “NO, HE WASN’T.”

“Then why did they do this to him?”

He could remember his claw gripping Shadow’s neck as he begged and pleaded for mercy. He remembered his body acting without his command as he unfeelingly attacked him. He remembered Shadow going limp on the floor, almost dead. He remembered watching as people crowded around him and quickly put him into stasis.

He remembered standing with him,

for centuries.

Maybe as an apology. Maybe because it was what he was built to do.

He remembered.

“HUMANITY FEARS WHAT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, CHILD.”

Quietly, Silver walked back to Omega’s side, leaning on him once again, and a little more curled up in his lap than he was before. “I know,” he said. “I know that.” 

Of course he did. Omega could have guessed that, especially in this world; this world that was dominated by terror. After all, Silver was here, alone, at six years old. Whatever reason he had for that couldn't be a pleasant one.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE I FOUGHT ALONGSIDE BACK THEN.”

“Before Iblis?”

“YES.”

“I do?”

“YOU ARE MARCHING TO FACE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. YET YOU REMAIN OPTIMISTIC. YOU STRIVE TO PROTECT A BROKEN WORLD THAT HURT YOU.”

Silver fidgeted with the hem of his poncho. His markings pulsed with light. “Even if the whole world was against me,” he whispered, “I'd still protect it.”

“I SEE. INQUIRY;”

“Mhm?”

“HOW CAN YOU FIGHT WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T WIN?”

For a long time, Silver stayed quiet.

He spoke slowly. “As long as I don't give up… there's hope.”

How optimistic. How cruel, for a child to say those words with a trembling voice. If Omega could, he'd weep. 

Then, he returned to his excited demeanor. “Hey, you know what? I could probably get Shadow out of there!”

“YOU COULD NOT.”

“I could try! If I could wake your friend up, then maybe—”

“CHILD.”

He stayed quiet.

“I MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THOSE I HELD DEAR.” He flickered some of the lights on his body on and off. “I BROKE THAT VOW ONCE. NOW, I WILL REMAIN HERE, BY HIS SIDE, UNTIL I AM GONE.”

Silver was practically curled up in his lap, forehead rested on his chest. His body temperature had dropped significantly since he had woken up. “Okay, then. Hey, I have another question.”

“ASK IT.”

“Can you make that ‘song’ again?”

How optimistic.

How cruel.

“YES. I CAN.”

The piano hummed through his broken speakers. It made ear-splitting popping noises occasionally, but Silver didn't seem to mind. He shifted so his ear was right above Omega’s internal speaker.

His companions would have liked Silver. It was obvious— maybe even Shadow would have. But they were separated by eons.

Omega only hoped the next time they met, it was for a kinder reason.

‘Hoped’...

Silver must have been rubbing off on him.