#so no ones worried about clothes we're all focused on other things

[bookwyrminspiration]

How does your school work? You've mentioned a lot of interesting things about it, and now I'm really curious.

I'd be more than happy to explain! Though I can't promise to cover every interesting thing I've said because I've forgotten them all. It is a pretty cool situation that works out great for me, but if you have any questions--about my school, college in general, etc--I'd love to answer! (started over explaining, but hopefully it makes sense)

Essentially, it's a dual credit high school. I can't speak to how it works at other high schools, but my understanding is typically they might have a dual credit program where students can choose to participate in dual credit. The difference here is that my entire school is dedicated to that specific concept, built around it. Here, there is no option but to participate; it's why you go here.

Dual credit means that we're earning high school and college credit at the same time, so I've been taking college courses at an official community college since 9th grade. All of it is paid for my district, I don't have to pay for the college education.

The way it works, instead of electives (like spanish, drama, art, etc.) at a typical high-school, our electives are our college courses. These can be things like the normal electives, but they can also be things like philosophy, culinary classes, welding, etc. These classes count double, both towards the high school side of things and the college side of things--hence dual credit!

The only courses the high school offers itself are the basics, like math, english, history. They're condensed into semester long courses to match the college, and everything else is college. As you progress through any high school you need less core classes (e.g., I only had PE the first year, next year it was an open slot for an elective) and can take more electives, so your schedule also gets more free.

Right now, I'm a senior in high school, so I only have one class a day. This semester, I only had English, and next semester I'll only have Econ/Gov. I finished my math credits before 10th grade, and there's no more required science or history. So during the school year I go for an hour and a half (that's the length of one period), do my class, and then go home. (freshman have a full school day, and it gets less with each year).

The time you save you can put towards the college courses you're taking. A certain number are required each semester (with one high school class, 3 college are required. with 2 high school 2 college are required, etc.) so you count as a full student, but you can take more than that. If these classes are in person, then you'll attend them when they're held and do the work like any other homework. I've personally elected to take all my courses online because it's less draining for me, so I just go home and do my work.

My school is structured in such a way that the goal for all students entering is to graduate high school with a two year degree or a certificate, though that's not the limit. I've personally already earned several degrees.

It's also an incredibly small and close-knit school. You get in via a raffle, so you apply then they randomly select students to get in. There's about 60 kids in my grade level (if it was full there'd be 72), and almost all of us have been here since 9th grade so we're all familiar with each other. We've been taking classes together for four years. I will say that unless you're directly involved with student government or something, you won't know shit about the other grades. You only know your own because our schedules don't let us mix. And since it's so small, the teachers all know us pretty well. It's a lax and friendly atmosphere, treating us like adults in college instead of kids preparing for college.

The principal knows all our names and she jokes around with us, same with all the other faculty. The other day the principal and vice principal were standing next to the stairs talking and I passed them by, and they called to me and joked, saying, "Quil, we hear you only have a 104 in english, you better step it up!" and they complimented some of the art they'd seen for an assignment I'd done. My 10th grade English teacher gave me books from her personal collection to read and I gave her a few from mine. Even this one teacher I never had (he's new this year and teaching a grade below me) knows about me (though that may be because I'm an accomplished student, so staff tend to hear about me).

I'm probably missing something, but that's the gist of it! I take core classes at the high school, and college courses that count for college and elective credits. This gives me an incredibly free schedule (that doesn't match the rest of the district) with a personal, relaxed environment. And it's all paid for!

It's definitely not for everyone, but it's wonderful for me because I don't have to be in a place for an extended period of time and all the teachers are more than accommodating when I use fidgets and earplugs. Couldn't imagine going anywhere else :)

[heavyhitterheaux]

Call Her Daddy (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: 🤭🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack goes on the Call Her Daddy podcast and of course has to talk about his wife

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jack, it's about damn time you showed up for an episode of my podcast.” Alex said after the both of them sat down and got comfortable where the podcast recording would take place.

“What can I say? I'm a busy man. And it's good to be here.”

“Definitely busy seeing as you just recently put a total of three babies in your wife, but we'll get to that later. We're focusing on you, first.”

“Look, I can't help it if my wife is fine as hell. Might as well go hard or go home.” He replied while shrugging and of course Alex laughed.

“Don't worry, you'll get to talk about how much you love your wife in due time because we know that’s a running theme with you. But first, I want to know more about Jack Harlow. Did you always want to be a rapper? And where did that drive come from?”

“Always wanted to be one and I remember selling my CD's back in middle school. My mom was a heavy influence on that and she would freestyle with me in the car when she would drive me to like soccer practice and different things like that.”

“That's so cute and adorable that your mom influenced you. Now when people think of rap, Kentucky isn't really the first place people think of.”

“Not at all and I'm from Louisville and a lot of people don't know that it is literally an entire city. When people hear Kentucky, the first thing that they think of is some back roads country ass shit when it's not.” He answered as he thought about when he first started and some people would tell him that he would never make it out Kentucky let alone Louisville.

“And did a lot of people support you? Or did they try to discourage you? How was that growing up there?”

“It was about half and half. A lot of people were confident that I was going to make something of myself, but others weren’t. But I’ve been serious about this shit from day one and it’s slowly but surely paying off. My girl wouldn’t let me quit for nothing even if sometimes I wanted to.”

“Now, what were you like in high school? Were you the popular jock, the nerd, part of the science club? Did the girls fall out over you?” Alex asked while getting comfortable in her chair and adjusting.

“I mean I always had friends and I wasn’t the one who would be stuffed into lockers or some shit. Like with certain things people knew not to mess with me. And it always seemed like girls always liked me, but when I set my eyes on one, that was it. It was a done deal. We weren’t even together yet and people knew that she was mine and they would respect it.”

“So, I want to ask you since you said that about people knowing that she was your girl and respecting it. Now we are talking about the First Lady, correct?”

“The fucking one and only. Had my eyes on her ever since I was fourteen.”

“A little birdie told me about you hiding a boy’s clothes after gym was over because he liked her and wouldn’t leave her alone? Not baby Jack getting jealous.” Alex said while laughing and Jack soon joined in along with her.

“Look, he asked for it and I didn’t have a problem with him after that. Like dude get the fuck away from my girl.”

“And what did she do when she found out?”

“She never found out until we moved to Atlanta after we graduated so she had absolutely no idea. But, she definitely got on my ass. But she’s not so innocent either, but you’ll have to ask her about that.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely the next person I need to have on here. Now what is the album that you think is your best work or the one that you are most proud of?”

“Hmm, Jackman hands down. No features, just me talking and getting my feelings out. I was able to be home in Louisville with my wife for about a year and a half and I took that time to reset and get my mind right because a lot of shit had been going on and happening around us and I felt that it was important for me to do that, but now we’re back to making the catchy shit that people can really vibe to and feel good music so I’m excited for this new era.”

“Lovin’ On Me! Now I am loving your new song and I notice that it says I don't like no whips and chains and you can’t tie me down. So no whips and chains in the Harlow household?”

“I… look I have a story about that. It’s not the fact that there’s absolutely none because at one point in time there was.”

“Damn, do I need popcorn for this because I feel like I need popcorn for this.” Alex added while busting out laughing.

“So, I tie her up, blindfold her, we got the nipple clamps, all that shit, and I handcuff myself to her to get her to stop moving and I lost the key in the process. So, she notices that I get quiet and she’s freaking out asking me what’s wrong and when I finally tell her she’s like call Urban. He’s our best friend who lived with us at the time and he has seen some wild shit and I know he’s so fucking tired of us. So with my free hand, I use my phone to call him and he comes and sees what the situation is, finds the key and leaves us there and goes to sleep because we had woken him up and he was pissed. So he just left us there until the morning.”

“I LITERALLY CANNOT! But, was it really a punishment though? Handcuffed to your wife so I can imagine a few more rounds came after that?” Alex asked while wiggling her eyebrows.

“More than a few.”

“Now talk to me about the other wild shit that he has seen.” 

All Jack did was hang his head as he busted out laughing.

“I… I don’t even know where to fucking start. Urb is always getting pulled into the middle of shit that he absolutely had nothing to do with.”

“That’s what best friends are for. Now, how do you feel about choking?”

“Anything she wants, I will do it. Nothing is off limits for her. I admit that it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but if it’s going to make her orgasm faster, I’m all for it. She definitely comes first. Pun intended.”

“Oh, so you’re all about putting her needs first in the bedroom?”

“And in life, that’s my baby and her needs and wants are always going to be met. Been doing that since we were fifteen when we were officially together.”

“Now you said nothing is off limits when it comes to her, so she’s just like ‘babe, let me peg you’.”

“No, absolutely not, no one is sticking anything up my ass. I love my wife through and through, but no. That’s a little too much for me. Come on Alex, I’m not that adventurous, my lyrics literally say ‘I’m vanilla baby’.”

“Well, I might have put an idea in your head that you’ll want to try with her later.”

“Nope.”

“Favorite sex position?”

“Do you…. Do you not know what they call me?” Jack curiously asked her in disbelief.

“No, what do they call you?”

“Missionary Jack.”

“Please shut up because literally no one calls you that, you call yourself that.”

“I swear that’s what they call me!”

“And who gave you that nickname?”

“If it was someone other than my wife then that’s a problem. She’s called me that since forever.”

“What do you like about it?”

“It’s underrated on so many levels. I swear my triplets were conceived in missionary. Because here’s my thing, I’m face to face with her, at one point her ankles are going to be behind her head or on top of my shoulders and I’m going the fuck in.”

“Well damn, what’s her favorite position? I’m going to get her on here, but I want to hear it from you.”

“She likes to think that she’s in control, so she likes to ride me. But she knows who runs this shit. My kids aren’t the only ones who call me daddy.” Jack responded while smirking and all Alex did was playfully roll her eyes.

“Your wife is going to get you for that one and I’m going to let her have at it.”

“Yeah that’s how it all starts and it’ll end with me fucking her brains out like it always does.”

“You’re going to be in for it when this is over. Hmm, kinks?”

“I love praising her because I know it makes her reach her peak faster, but definitely a spit kink.”

“OH! TELL ME MORE! I am intrigued!”

“Alex, you are funny as shit.”

“I’m serious! Out with it.”

“Spitting in her mouth and watching her swallow it.”

“Are you sure you’re as vanilla as you say you are, because? Yeah I’m going to need wifey here to get her perspective. Do you think she’s ever faked an orgasm while you were in her? Would you be able to tell?”

“I know her body inside and out and she better not do that shit and have me find out about it. But, I don’t think she has.”

“Hand jobs, blow jobs?”

“Fuck yeah, I love me a good hand job or blow job.”

“Craziest place that you’ve gotten one or had sex period?”

“On a plane to Australia. We thought everyone was asleep, but of course everyone except Urb. This was what I meant when he is always getting caught in the middle of some shit that has nothing to do with him. It was difficult because I’m so tall, but we made it work.”

“What would an erotic vacation look like for you?”

“Definitely fucking her brains out non stop in some tropical ass location. We’re not leaving our room for the entire time that we’re there.”

“Ooohh, now if you could have sex in any location in the world, where would it be?”

“Hmm, I never really thought about it. Maybe some exotic ass shit like behind a waterfall or something. But, I was also thinking the white house lawn because I don’t mind an audience.”

“NOT THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN!”

“YOU ASKED!” 

“Have you ever had or thought about trying tantric sex?”

“I’ve never really thought much about it, but I would have to do my research. If wifey wants it, I’m down.”

“She really does wear the pants in your relationship, huh?”

“Alex, like I said before, you’re funny and no she doesn’t.”

“I literally do not think that anyone will agree with you. If I were to do a poll right now, everyone will probably say that she does.”

“I let her think that she does.”

“Mmm hmm, sure. Now what is your dirtiest sexual fantasy?”

“I don’t even know since I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to it and not many things are off limits.”

You had just gotten to the hotel that Jack was staying at while he was filming for his episode of the Call Her Daddy podcast when you decided to surprise him. He had been going non stop since the release of his new single and getting ready to go on The Kentucky Tour. 

Of course Urban was with him and sent you a text saying that he was almost done and you promptly took a quick shower and slipped on one of Jack’s favorite lingerie sets which happened to be black and purple. You threw on your black silk robe in case you got cold and simply laid out on the bed and played on your phone waiting for your husband. 

You had fallen asleep waiting for him when you felt him reach down and place a kiss on your lips and your eyes fluttered open.

“What are you doing here?” He playfully asked as he was now kneeling on the bed in front of you and playing with the ties on your black silk robe.

“I wanted to surprise my husband since he’s been working so hard and I figured you would want a little time to have me to yourself.” You answered while motioning for him to lean down so that you could kiss him which he quickly did.

As Jack deepened the kiss, he took the opportunity to undo your robe and took in the sight of you in front of him.

“A sight that I can never get tired of seeing.”

He started to kiss down your neck when you lightly pushed him away from you and flipped the two of you over as you went to undo his pants and slide down his boxer briefs.

“Last night on the phone with you wasn’t enough and I decided that I wanted you in my mouth as soon as possible.”

The night before, Jack was complaining about missing you so just like you had done many times before, you gave him a show which ended up with him cumming multiple times as he watched you. 

Jack had now tossed his shirt to the other side of the room and you had gotten his boxer briefs completely off before taking him in your mouth painfully slow making him grab the back of your head and buck his hips towards you.

“Baby, do not fucking tease me right now. All I basically did was talk about how good I fuck you in that podcast and we need to get to it before I fucking bust. This shit is starting to hurt and take that lingerie off.” Jack whined as you were making yourself comfortable.

Before taking him back in your mouth, you did as you were told.

“Patience, my love. You know that I’m always going to make it worthwhile.” You answered him as you went back to pleasuring him with your mouth and your eyes began to water as you felt him reach the back of your throat.

You were taking your slow sweet time and even though Jack was getting annoyed, he was in entirely too much pleasure to say anything at the moment knowing that when he finally did cum in your mouth that it would be worth it.

“Ahh fuck. Come on baby, go a little faster than that.” Jack pleaded with you, but then you took him out of your mouth and went to the edge of the bed and laid down upside down.

“Get over here and face fuck me then.” You said while giggling and Jack wasted no time getting in front of you and sliding himself back into your mouth while throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, ohhhh shiiiiit.”

Jack had now taken a hold of both sides of your face and began moving in and out of your mouth as you reached down to play with your clit knowing that if he saw you playing with yourself that he would cum faster.

“Come on baby, open that pretty mouth of yours wider for me. You can take more of me, you’re doing such a good job.”

You did as you were told and inserted two fingers while still continuing to play with your clit with the opposite hand as you felt the spit from your mouth leaking down the sides of it.

“You playing with your pussy for me? Add another finger for daddy.” 

Listening to Jack, you added another finger as he reached down to spit on your clit which made you increase the pace of your fingers.

You couldn’t help but to moan while Jack was still in your mouth and knew that you were going to reach your peak soon.

And as if right on cue, you heard Jack.

“Fuck, baby.” He tightly held onto you as you hit your peak and felt the cum shooting down your throat and out the sides of your mouth, but you continued sucking him off not showing him any mercy.

“Hold on!”

You shook your head no as you continued to move him in and out of your mouth, but finally let up when you felt another load shoot into your mouth and quickly swallowed it. Jack slightly moved away from you as you sat up and turned around to face him smirking.

“Wait until I get your ass for doing that.” Was all he said as you reached up to kiss him. You caught him off guard as you reached down and slowly began to jerk him off when he broke the kiss and looked down at you.

“Get your ass to the top of the bed and spread your legs so I have enough room.”

You moved until you reached the top as Jack hovered over you and simply looked down at you to admire you.

“What, babe?” You asked as you were now beginning to shy away from him, but all he did was lightly grab your face and kiss you.

“Nothing, it’s just my wife is so gorgeous and I’m about to have her screaming at the top of her lungs with how good I’m about to make her feel.” He answered as he began to rub small circles along your clit and reached down to kiss you while slipping his tongue in your mouth.

When you least expected it, he slowly entered you making you gasp against his lips which he quickly quieted you with another kiss as he began to move.

“Look at my pretty girl taking this dick.”

Jack then lifted your legs so that they were on the top of his shoulders and began pounding into you making you gasp as he caught you in another kiss.

“Shiiiit.” Was all you could mutter as you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck as both of your noses were touching.

As Jack continued to keep the same pace, he kept his eyes on you and simply smirked.

“Open your mouth.”

You felt warm liquid slide down the back of your throat as he continued to move and place small kisses along your breasts.

On your right breast, he placed a small kiss and bit down and continued to suck on the same spot as you were letting out a series of curses and whimpers.

That was going to leave a mark, but you would deal with that later.

Jack then reached down to play with your clit and he quickly went to suck on your other breast knowing that he would have you come undone in front of him in less than a minute.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jack then felt a rush of warm liquid hit the bottom part of his stomach and smirked as he reached up to kiss you.

As you were slowing down your breathing, Jack continued to rub small circles along your clit while kissing down your neck.

Once you felt that you recovered enough, you reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube that you had brought and handed it to Jack as you moved to get on all fours. 

All he did was smirk at you before opening the bottle as you were making yourself comfortable in front of him.

You had only done anal a handful of times, but you found yourself wanting it more and more lately and of course, Jack wasn’t opposed.

“Baby, remember you have to relax so I can get in easier.” You heard him say as he was getting ready behind you.

“Yes, I know.” You softly answered as you felt the tip.

Jack noticed he was meeting resistance so he added more lube and had you arch your back a little bit more before trying again.

He was moving in slowly and didn’t hear anything from you which had him concerned and he simply stopped.

“Baby, you okay? You aren’t saying anything.”

“I’m fine, just keep going.”

After a few minutes, he was fully in and gave you a minute to adjust and made sure that you were okay.

“You ready for me to move?”

All you did was nod towards him as you felt him moving in and out of you.

“You’re doing so good, you’re doing so good for me baby. Arch your back a tiny bit more.”

Complying, you slowly but surely started to notice how good it felt as Jack reached down and you felt him insert what felt like a vibrator in you. 

You had no idea when he had time to get it, but you weren’t in any way, shape, or form complaining. 

“Babeee, oh fuck.”

“Got a new toy to use on you.”

Between the vibrator and Jack pleasuring you, you felt your legs begin to get weak and the perfect arch that you had once had was forgotten as you were trying to hold yourself up.

Jack noticed this and instead of turning the vibrator down and decreasing his pace, he did the opposite and turned it up while increasing his pace making you scream out.

“Baby…. Mmm… fuck I can’t…”

“Yes you can and you will, arch your back for me. Such a good girl.”

Jack reached down to play with your clit and your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks making you scream out as he slid out and released all over your back.

He then slid the vibrator out of you as you collapsed on your stomach and reached down to kiss your neck.

“You okay, down there? You were so good for me.”

You let out something of a groan letting him know that you were okay and he instantly laughed while sliding off the bed and pulling you by the ankles so that you were at the end of the bed and Jack was on his knees.

“Get on your knees for me because we are nowhere near done.”

This made you do a double take as you looked back at him in confusion.

“You didn’t think you were about to come all this way and I wasn’t going to taste my wife’s pussy, did you? Spread them damn legs.”

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[crueisummer]

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

series summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

chapter summary: You and Charles stay up talking about your dreams, fears, insecurities, and things that haunt your mind when you're alone.

chapter warnings: vvv emotional, feminism (oh no! jk), derogatory remarks, swearing, mental health, mentions of death (herve, jules, tonio)

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 2 means we're halfway there!! For this chapter, I focused on the delicate's chorus to show the more vulnerable and "human" side of the characters. I will add the other aspects of the song to the following chapters. I also wrote this in a different style but I hope u guys like it. <333 Lastly, thank you all so much for almost 500 likes on the first chapter. ·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. screaming! crying!

word count: 3.5k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

                ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

01:57 ━━━━●───── 03:52 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

The light beamed into your eyes from the window, intensifying the pounding in your head and increasing your thirst. As you opened your eyes, you squinted against the brightness, gradually adjusting to the sudden flash. Sensing movement beside you, you turned around to find Charles sleeping shirtless beside you. Memories of the previous night flooded back, replaying in your mind.

Before leaving the party with Charles, you looked for Kika to inform her of your departure. Seeing Charles waiting for you near the elevator, phone in hand, she expressed concern with a worried expression. Charles had recently ended a three-year relationship, and his ex happened to be the best friend of his previous ex. Kika was well aware of Charles' red flags, as she knew you, her dear friend Y/N, were known for wholeheartedly loving and falling hard for others who often failed to appreciate you as you deserved.

“Please be careful,” She smiled at you to which you nodded. She watched as you approached Charles and he smiled upon seeing you. As you waved farewell to Kika, she softly whispers to herself, “with each other’s hearts.”

You and Charles found yourselves seated on the floor of your hotel room's living room, uncomfortable party clothes off, cozy hoodies on, and legs crossed, with a spread of chips, beer, and mini alcohol bottles laid out before you. During your conversation, you discovered your shared value of family, discussing the strong relationships you both had with your loved ones.

"Are you close to your mom?" It was a question you always asked the guys you were interested in. You believed that a man who had a good relationship with his mother would treat his partner with love and respect. Although it didn't always turn out to be true, you still posed the question.

"Yeah, the first thing I do when I return to Monaco is visit her. You know, she's the only one I trust to cut my hair?" Charles smiles warmly, reminiscing about his mom. "You see, she's a professional hairdresser. So, sometimes when she watches me on TV, she'll send me a text saying I need a haircut. I just reply with her flight details to come see me, and we laugh about it, but she still comes over. That's why I've never had a bad haircut!"

"That is adorable! How often does she visit and watch your races?" You ask, eager to know more about his mother.

"Well, not as often as I'd like, that's for sure. She usually accompanies Arthur to his races."

"Races? He races too?"

"Yeah, he competes in Formula 2. Sometimes the Formula 1 and 2 races coincide on the same weekends so I get to see them both." You're momentarily taken aback. Wow, they must be RICH rich!

"Formula 2? How many Formulas are there?!" You exaggerate.

"Just three, cheri," he chuckles. "You know, my dad used to race in Formula 3 back in the '90s."

"So, it runs in the family, huh? What does your dad do now?" You inquire, looking down and grabbing a chip. The room falls into an unexpected silence, and you glance up, noticing a soft and melancholic expression on his face.

"Well, actually, I lost my dad seven years ago," he replies, offering a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Charles! I’m sorry, I had no idea..." Shock overtakes you, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand. Is that why he’s only been talking about his mom and brothers the whole night?

He interrupts, "No, it's okay. I think I’m getting used to talking about it. You know, they always interview me about their deaths. Sometimes I feel like they don't truly respect them, or me, and they just want me to talk about them for views and content."

"Deaths?" You're taken aback, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words.

"Yeah, over the past seven years, I've lost three important people in my life. My dad, my godfather Jules, and one of my best friends, Tonio."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to hear that. How have you been coping?" Rising from the floor, you move closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

"Sometimes I find myself spiraling into these depressive episodes where I just want to close off my heart. Because if you close your heart, no new people can enter, only to leave again." He looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. Your expression softens, and he musters a small smile in your direction. He continues, his voice filled with emotion, "I've tried it before, but I realized that it doesn't make anything easier. These days, I just choose to remember them for who they were, their lives, their dreams, and the sacrifices they made for me to be where I am today."

You were taken aback at Charles’ maturity. The mere thought of losing someone dear to your heart was overwhelming, and here he was, having experienced the loss of not just one, but three significant people in his life. You couldn't help but admire him for getting through his hardships and finding happiness in the time he shared with them. Especially since he uses it as motivation to be a better person.

As your conversation continued, you decided to shift to a lighter topic in an attempt to lift Charles' spirits. You shared stories of performing in numerous countries, while Charles recounted his experiences racing in Formula 1 events across the globe. You laughed at how unfamiliar you were with his sport, just as he was with your music.

He asks if you have your phone with you.

"Um, it's somewhere around here," you respond while searching for it. Eventually, you spot it on the kitchen counter. "Why?"

"Just open Apple Music or Spotify, whichever you prefer," he says with a mischievous grin as you sit back down in front of him. You nod and show him that Apple Music is open.

"Now search for my name," he instructs, and you type his name, discovering that he is listed as an 'artist'. There’s no way…

"Charles Leclerc Artist? How are you an artist?" you raise an eyebrow at him and glance back at your phone. You notice that he has released two songs in the past year.

He laughs at your confusion. "Well, Ms. Grammy singer, I also play the piano. I wrote these songs last year and finished them around the time of the Australian GP and the Miami GP, which is why they're named AUS23 and MIA23."

You're shocked, your mouth hanging open dramatically as you listen to the songs. Charles laughs at your reaction. You didn't think he could become any more attractive, and now he surprises you with this. Could he be the incarnation of your dream man?

"That's amazing! I guess I know who to call when I need help with a song," you wink at him, and he chuckles.

"No, no. You're at least 100 times better than me. I don't have as much talent as you do to write lyrics for the music," he praises you.

“Okay, since you know a bit about my art and making a song and all that, I, on the other hand, have no fucking idea about Formula 1. Like, why do you have to travel all around the world and race on different tracks? Is it like some kind of world tour?" You burst into laughter at your own humorous analogy, and Charles, who was as intoxicated as you, finding it amusing as well.

“Do you really want to understand it?” You nod at his question as he sits up straight and stretches his head and hands, “warming up” to explain.

"You see, every race weekend is different. Let’s say you do Plan A for this weekend, sometimes it works, and we get podium. But sometimes despite our best efforts, it doesn’t. So, after the race, we talk about what went right and what went wrong and then we make a new plan for the next race. Do you understand so far?”

You nod at him. Though a slight confusion still lingered in your mind, you couldn't help but be captivated by the passion radiating from his every word. The way his eyes sparkled, and his voice exuded genuine excitement revealed the depth of his love for his job. In that moment, you realized that this wasn't merely a profession to him; it was a true calling, a relentless pursuit of excellence that fueled his spirit.

"I still don’t understand. Maybe being there and watching it firsthand can help me. What do you think?" you playfully suggest, winking at Charles as you extend your legs onto his lap. He responds by grabbing your leg with his left hand and dramatically clutching his heart with his right, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, amour, the thought of you in red."

As your connection deepened, you both began to open up and share parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden. You spoke honestly about your doubts, worries, and the overwhelming thoughts that haunted you when you were alone.

"Can I ask you something?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"Go ahead," he replies, grabbing a chip and taking a bite.

"Have you read about me? Like on the internet, in articles or magazines?"

"I see the headlines, but I don’t really read them, so let's just go with a 'no,'" he says, wiping the salt and dust from his hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I’m sure I already know your answer, but doesn't it bother you sometimes, the things they write about you?" you question, and he nods, encouraging you to continue. "It's just that they always make comments about my personal life, especially with the people I choose to be with."

"Yeah, well, those people's lives are so miserable that they have nothing better to do than try to ruin ours," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing.

You glance down at your lap, your hands fidgeting as you gather your thoughts, when Charles interrupts, taking your hand. "Hey, I know it sucks, but I think it's something that comes with success. It bothers me too when they do that to me. Look, I won't pretend to fully understand what you're going through because I know I don't."

You look up at him, puzzled. "Do you remember earlier at the party when you arrived before me? When your car pulled up at the restaurant, they went crazy. Now, I've been in front of cameras since I was a kid, and I know a thing or two about paparazzi, but I've never seen fame like yours before. They were taking so many pictures of you that it didn't even look like flashes anymore, it’s like someone had switched on a blinding light for those few seconds you walked from your car to the door."

"I couldn't really see you because of the crowd, but when I heard them shouting your name, it just made sense. Don't tell the engaged couple, but I'm 100% sure you were the best thing at the party. " he winks at you. "But still, that doesn't make it okay. The reason they act like that is because they are taking advantage of your popularity. They think that getting a good picture of you, or a story, out of you or even something they made up, is big money.”

You’ve thought of this before, the way they treat you is different from other celebrities, but you hesitated to bring them up, fearing it would make you appear arrogant. It was a nice change to discuss about your life, popularity and the challenges that come with it, and to be met with Charles' honest and genuine response. You look back at the times you talked about this with a partner, and how they dismissed your concerns, labeling you as ungrateful, overreacting, or even a drama queen. The contrast in reactions causes you to appreciate Charles' maturity, understanding and support.

Despite your seemingly different lives, his centered around sports, yours with music, your personalities and passion for your respective crafts and families made you remarkably similar. With every word exchanged, the infatuation between you grew stronger.

So, at 4 am, while leaning against the balcony of your hotel room, a comfortable silence settled between you.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never experienced this before.” Charles says softly. “Staying up at this hour and talking about my life and the shit I go through to a girl I’ve only met for 8 hours now. It makes me feel like I want to tell you my whole life. It feels…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“I get what you mean. I never thought we would have a lot in common, especially since from the outside, it looks like we’re living different lives. But it looks like we're not so different after all.”

“Y/N, I know it’s too soon because we’ve only just met but I really want to get to know you better.” He faces you and draws himself closer. His green eyes pierce your Y/E/C eyes, he smiles genuinely at you.

As you gaze at him, your heartbeat quickens. You can’t tell if this is real life because you’re experiencing emotions you’ve never felt before. Here stands a guy who is caring, grounded, and by the way, absolutely gorgeous, and he is genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your thoughts waver back and forth, questioning whether this is okay. Is it cool that I’ve shared everything in my mind with him? Is it chill that he’s in my head?

Your mind and heart go into battle. Think! After all, you've only known this person for eight hours! Eight hours, Y/N! On the other hand, what if this is actually okay? Could this be the story of you meeting "the one"? Or your soulmate?

You tried to find a compromise.

Blushing, you gazed up at him and agreed, “I feel the same way. But can we take it slow? I never like to rush things, especially relationships.”

He nods and hugs you from behind. “Is this alright?”

You hummed and you both stayed there, watching the stars and the beautiful view of Florence.

You didn’t want the night to end, and you couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him right now. So you tried to make up excuses for him to stay. “But, you know, it’s too dangerous to drive at this hour.”

“Cheri, there is no such as thing as a time that is too dangerous to drive.” He chuckles at your cuteness. “Plus, I’m a Formula One driver, I think I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t because we just finished doing shots like three hours ago! And what if other drunk people are driving around too?”

Charles lightly laughs at your stubbornness. He knows you’re too prideful to just tell him to stay the night, especially after you both agreed to keep things slow. He sees you avoiding his gaze, so he addresses you, “Y/N.”

As you looked up, he smiled at you and gently holds your chin and locking eyes. "Je suis folle de toi.” he uttered.

Confused, you smiled in anticipation, knowing he had likely said something sweet. Seconds later, he translated himself, the proximity between your faces nearly undoing you. "I am crazy about you.”

...

Carefully locating your phone, you closed the bedroom door behind you. Retrieving two water bottles from the mini fridge in the kitchen, you settled on the couch in the living room of your hotel suite, resting your legs on the coffee table.

You check your messages and there were some from Kika, and your management team. Kika texted you and said to meet her for brunch at 11. Though, with a Monegasque driver in your bed, you don’t know when you can leave, so you move on to the other conversations, keeping in mind that you reply to her soon.

Your management team’s group chats were asking where you are and who you were hanging with. You read their earlier messages and saw that there are articles and pictures of you and Charles leaving the party last night. You open your Twitter account and see the two of you are trending. Of course, we are.

You scrolled through the tweets and some fans were happy, some were not, some just... don't have any opinion. And you prefer the latter. Reading the tweets of the fans was one thing, but the way the media and articles talked about you was different. It's like they didn't have respect you.

The articles get to you, Why is there so much scrutiny around my dating life? They called you a serial dater, manipulator, etc., even creating "warnings" about you for Charles; saying you're just gonna break his heart and write a song about him.

You furrow your brow, wondering why they single you out like this and why other women aren't subjected to the same level of scrutiny. It's frustrating because they never say these things about other people, especially men in the industry who engage in similar dating behaviors. Your male friends in the industry can date different people or even cheat and sing about it without raising any eyebrows. But when it comes to you, the accusations fly.

When they accuse you of "jumping" from one relationship to another, they label you a player or claim you cheated. If you choose to casually date without exclusivity, they call you a slut. It never ends. Where do they expect me to stand? When will it all just stop?

You start to question whether the people you want to be with have seen what has been written about you and if your reputation, which may be based on something fake, can affect the real connections you might make. You begin to ponder the significance of it all and how much weight a reputation actually carries.

It's unfair. Your personal life should be yours alone, and people should mind their own business. If this is the price you pay for sharing your music and being famous, you want no part of it anymore. It feels like they don't respect you as a human being.

Hot tears stream down your face as your thoughts consume you, overwhelming you completely. Seeking solace, you sink from the couch to the floor, resting your chin on your knees. It's a familiar position, offering some comfort when you're feeling low. The grounding sensation reminds you that you're still here.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles already woke up and was also reading messages from his team. He was about to greet you when he heard you sniffling. He slowly opens the door and sees you on the ground, knees to your chest, crying. Suddenly, he understands the pain you're going through. He felt awkward. He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend to go back to bed.

But Charles can't resist the sight of your shattered state. He pushes the door open fully and gazes at you, broken and vulnerable. His heart shatters alongside yours. Slowly, he approaches and sits in front of you, taking in the magnitude of your pain. You're startled, having forgotten he was sleeping in the other room. You wonder if he knows what you're crying about, if he's seen the internet already, but the thought pushed back behind your head when a pair of warm, gentle hands cups your face, thumbs trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong, mon ange?" he asks softly.

"Everything. The things they say about me... they're so mean. They're ruining my name, my reputation..." You manage to utter between sobs.

"Shh.. I know, cheri. But I don't care about what they write, alright? I want to know you. The real you." He comforts you. Running his hand up and down your arm as you find solace in his comforting embrace.

For the next ten minutes, you pour your heart out to him, releasing your pent-up emotions. When Charles senses that you had calmed down, he fetches the water bottle from the table and hands it to you. You finish it in one go.

"Feeling a little better now?" He offers, his considerate nature shining through. You smile and nod, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asks, showing his concern for your well-being. You shake your head for a no.

“Do you feel like going downstairs, or should we order room service?" Going for a walk would be refreshing, and it might help improve your mood, but given that you've just bared your soul to him, you don't feel like going out. More importantly, you remember that you'll encounter numerous people and potentially face unwanted attention when you're seen again with Charles.

"We? You don't have to stay here with me. I feel better already." You face him, pulling away from his embrace. You instantly regret it as you start to feel cold already, missing the warmth of his body against yours.

"And I'm not leaving until you feel your best again. So, restaurant or room service?" He asks again. God, he is even more hot when he's stern... and caring about my well-being, of course.

Considering your current state, you prefer the comfort of staying within the confined space of your room, cuddled up next to him. "Room service, please."

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 42)

The next few days were spent filling out paperwork, taking a few cognitive tests, and answering questions N was sure Khan already knew. Despite that, Khan had assured him multiple times that this was purely procedure, and he essentially had the job.

It was also spent worrying… each time he came home he'd been drawn to his girlfriend like a moth to a particularly purple flame, as soon as he was in range to hear her core, that warm haze would overtake him, and when he came back to his senses, he was already holding her no matter where she was, a chair, the couch, taking a nap, it did not matter.

It made sense… he loved her. He wanted to be close and it wasn't the closeness that worried him. It was the fact he wouldn't even remember how he ended up there that was the problem, he was walking through the doorway one moment, and curled up tightly against her the next.

He wasn't sure she remembered either, she would often seem to jolt “awake” around the same time as he did, then they'd look at each other, confused.

It was like a mandated cuddle session, and he didn't exactly mind, but some control over when and where would be great, thank you.

“So everything seems to be in order, last thing we need to do is put you through our basic training.” Khan’s voice finally cut through the TV static that was N's thoughts, all of his eyes suddenly focused on the man, which seemed to immediately trip Khan up, even if he wasn't consciously aware of the fact N had seven eyes.

“Basic Training?” He asked, quirking up an eyebrow, wasn't that reserved for stuff like the military?

“Yes! The WDF does more than watch over doors! We're the defacto police force for the colony, we keep an eye on everything! And we need to make sure you're in tip-top physical condition.”

Khan looked N up and down.

“And I tried to tell everyone it was functionally pointless… considering, but everyone wants to see you put through your paces, so thats what were going to do today!”

“Well, okay! I love doing anything?” N agreed, much like he did most of everything in his life, but he wasn't confident, wasn't this normally pretty hard?

“Great!”

Ten Minutes Later…

N was actually… kinda impressed at the obstacle course the WDF had for training, it had a climbing wall, a barbed wire crawl, tire steps, and a rope shimmy. Everything all about enhancing motor control and maneuverability, since strength and speed can't really be improved when you're made out of steel and hydraulic.

The room he'd been lead to was huge, the ceiling curving in a dome shape above them. A group of 20 or so people were on benches not too far away, all wearing WDF badges on different parts of their clothing. Khan led him to the starting line with a clipboard and a timer, looking excited himself.

“Alright! There is a benchmark of three minutes that you have to beat. But that should be no problem for you.”

“Ah… I have wings, should I…?”

“Oh! Yes it's probably best if you… refrain. Just to make it fair.”

Alright, no wings then.

He was nervous, genuinely. He'd never been through actual training before strangly enough. He'd just been… pre-programmed. Or re-programmed, with combat protocols innately.

While he was hunting, combat came naturally almost on autopilot, every sense heightened, reflex sharpened. He'd never enjoyed it, but he'd never had to think about it very hard either.

So, when it came to actually navigating through the course, he wasn't sure if he could without putting himself in ‘hunting mode’.

“Are you ready, son-in-law?”

He rolled his eyes before nodding, he got in a sprinters stance, surely this wouldn't be too hard right?

“Go!”

He shot off, legs beating underneath him as he came up to the tire steps, it felt strange, being bound to the ground instead of flying, and he felt way more clumsy this way then normal… oh well.

His systems charted the path for him, and his legs moved without putting in much conscious effort, then it was on to the barbed wire.

What once was a silent room seemed to fill with murmurs as he went, he threw himself onto his belly and scrambled underneath, he could feel the wire digging into the back of his coat, but he didn't slow down even as he started to sink into the mud.

He emerged out the other side filthy, but now came time to scale the wall, he had to will away the instinctual way his wings wanted to come out, he took a moment to pause, it was a sheer wooden wall, sanded down to remove any grooves or notches to climb up.

This was for workers.

How would a worker get over this?

How would Uzi get over this?

He took several steps backwards, taking a deep breath as his systems calculated his jump.

He got a running start as he pounced on the wall, and kept running, every servo in her legs keeping him upright as he ran up the wall and grabbed the top of it, before hoisting himself up. Murmurs turned to a few tentative cheers.

The final challenge, was a rope shimmy from the top of the wall to the finish line, he could jump down from this height no problem, but at this point, a part of him wanted to prove himself to both Khan and the rest of the WDF that he didn't need his “upgrades” to do this.

He wrapped himself around the rope, tail included, his weight had the rope sag and bend more then intended, which was an extra challenge as he climbed down, turned upside down.

At this point, he heard several whoops from the benches, making him smile despite the fact that his joints were getting a little sore from how quickly he'd been moving, he quickly shimmied down until he hit the final sprint to the finish line, where once again he put every once of power into his legs as he took off in a dead sprint, before he reached the finish line, where he had to dig his claws into the ground to slow down.

He panted, feeling his vents take in air so hard it was producing a low whine, his hands gripped his knees, he was muddy and gross and sweaty (why do robots sweat?!) And his breath was ragged, but he felt a hand slap his back.

“A minute fifteen! New record!” Khan said happily, looking like he had stars in his eyes, N smiled, his hair falling into his visor.

It was abundantly clear that his body had not been designed for anything but ambushing and flying, a more “death from above” then a persistence predator, because his joints were currently screaming “what the heck did you just do?!” at him. He wanted to sit down now…

“Great! U-uggh.” Khan led him over to a chair where he instantly collapsed in it, throwing his head back and not quite caring he was still covered in mud.

“Wow, that was kinda impressive.” A voice said, they were young whoever they were, a masculine voice that sounded like your typical dude-bro at the beach.

“Mm. Thanks.” N didn't have the energy to say anything else, thankfully he was quickly recovering.

Although he might recover faster if he could get a little bit of oil… he had brought it with him.

He put a hand in his pocket and fumbled with the container hidden there, the guy next to him continued speaking.

“N right? I'm Guy, I was the newest recruit before you. My time was 2:15.”

“Doesn't sound bad!” N replied, this guy was friendly at least, he could always get behind that.

He quickly took out his container and took a long gulp, the oil hitting his systems, immediately he felt better, his joints relaxing and his core settling, he sighed as he brought it away from his mouth, his long tongue coming to lick his lips from the access.

Huh… Guy had fallen real quiet all of the sudden

N looked back at the drone who'd been speaking to him, who's red eyes had gone hollow and his mouth slightly agape, N lifted an eyebrow before realizing why, he looked down at his container, slightly stained with oil, being quite obvious what was in it.

“Oh uh. Sorry… just started getting a little warm.” N tried to explain with a smile on his face, trying to be friendly but also succeeding in flashing his now oil-covered fangs.

Guy gulped.

“I-um yeah dude. N-no problem, guess you gotta kick the craving s-somehow.’

N looked confused for a moment.

“It's not really a craving, I just need it so I don't overheat.” He laughed nervously, sensing how tense the air had gotten. “Boiling in your own shell’s not fun.”

Guy was switching between curiosity and fear, tentatively, he seemed to choose between the two.

“What- what does it taste like?” He asked, still stammering but clearly not nearly as put off by it as before.

“The oil? Uh, sweet, this batch is a little earthy I guess, but that depends on where I get it from.”

The stuff in his container right now was actually from the nursery, it didn't taste nearly as metallic as oil from already living (or dead, he guessed) drones, instead having a more earthy, rounded taste.

He kinda preferred it honestly, plus, no one died for it.

“This is from the nursery, my girlfriend picked it up for me when she went for our daughter.”

Guy seemed to relax further.

“Oh, so it's not… you know?”

“N-no, I haven't killed anyone in… months.” He probably didn't need to add that last part, but he felt the need to defend himself, he really wished that people would stop looking at him and seeing… a monster. Even if he couldn't really blame them.

“Cool. Cool.” Guy replied awkwardly, before it seemed he had another question on his mind.

“How's that work?”

“How does what work?”

“You and a worker drone, is she like… pfft, okay?”

N… suddenly didn't like where this was going.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean, she's a worker drone right? Don't you have like… murdery instincts? Damn, if she can handle you, she's gotta be a freak in the sheets.”

N felt something white hot broil inside him until it's vitriol was bubbling in his throat, his hand twitched, and he just barely kept a feral growl from escaping his mouth.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about Uzi that way.” He said, dripping with politeness even as his tail was slowly coiling like a snake, ready to sting the nosy drone if he didn't leave soon.

“Oh shit! Doorman? Damn I knew she was a freak, just didn't know it went that deep!” Guy laughed, N's eye twitched.

Kill him!Kill him! He's a threat! Kill him!

No. No. Don't kill him, do not kill him, you don't like killing, he's not being threatening, he's just being gross.

You must protect them! He speaks of her like she is not yours, kill him! Before he becomes a threat to the kit, to Uzi!

He closed his eyes, clenching his fist before letting his anger roll out of his mouth. Even so he still vibrated with it, unable to truly let it all wash over him.

He'd never felt more angry in his life.

“Guy. Do not talk about her like that.” He was far more firm the second time, his tail was fully coiled, pointed directly at the drones jugular although he didn't seem to notice.

“Ah right. Sorry, sorry, shouldn't talk about another dude's girl like that. My bad.” Guy lifted both his hands, clearly trying to appease him, N would feel more appeased if the man left him alone, preferably on another planet it possible.

“Guy! Get your ass over here before the new guy snaps your neck!” Another member of the WDF called him over, before the man in a yellow hard hat and pink eyelights made his way over to him.

“Sorry, Guy doesn't know when to shut his servo. I'm Hal, what did he say to you that got you looking like murder?”

“I'd… rather not repeat it. He insulted my girlfriend.”

“Oooh, he's lucky it wasn't me, if he'da insulted Reida I woulda rung his scrawny neck.” The drone had a fake, but beautiful beard attached to his face, it was brown, along with is decently long hair.

“Reida?”

“My wife.”

“Ah.”

“Your names N right? or is that a nickname for something?” He asked, he was rather blunt, but nothing about the drone was threatening, he was a boxier, thicker worker model, betraying his age to be closer of that to Khan’s.

“It's Serial Designation N, technically, but just N please.”

“Righto! Glad to have ya! Khan’s talked a lot about you!” His hand came to slap roughly on N's back, it was strong enough to rock him forward slightly and send mud flying in all directions.

“Really?”

“Aye, er well, he's talked nonstop about his grandaughter, and you come up too.”

“That… makes more sense.”

“That means you're with his daughter right? Uzi?”

“That's her.”

“Guy better watch it then, if Khan hears that he's gonna blow a gasket. An so will I to be frank, that girl don't need anymore grief.”

N liked Hal more the longer he talked, he also sounded like a dwarf from one of those movies he and Uzi watched… Lord of the Rings?

“Thank you. I didn't actually want to hurt him.” N said, sighing, he wanted to cover his visor with his hands; but then he'd just get his visor smudgy.

“Yeah ya did.”

“Uh-”

“Don't sweat it kid. We've all been there. Though…”

“Hmm?”

“My Reida woulda kicked his ass first! Hah!”

Next ->

[seashelldom]

: ̗̀➛ 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄

pairing: tonowari x fem!reader na'vi

word count: 829

shelli's note. SFW angst; attachment issues

masterlist | part 1, part 2, alternate ending

Tonowari stared at the shell with confusion. Once that confusion subsided it was replaced with guilt and sorrow. He crouched down picking up the shell and holding it tightly in his hand. You would wish he would hold you tightly in his hand like he did with the shell, but it wasn't meant to be.

It never was. Maybe you knew this from the start? When did he become like this? You thought in your head. One thought coming from the other. Were you truly a poor excuse in a wife? And a nagging one at that?

Clingy, they said. Is it so wrong to cling to your husband? Wasn't it truly the way of things? You did love him with all your heart, but you would start to think that you were far too attached to him.

Maite?

Maite..?

"Maite!", said your mother as she brought you out of your thoughts.

"What's wrong?", she added.

"Ah, I'm sorry Mother, I've just had a stressed day," you replied in a fainter voice, including a small voice crack due to your depressing thoughts.

Your mother gave you a small smile before taking whatever you were working on out of your hands and setting it down on the table.

"Go rest in your marui, I'm sure Tonowari will be waiting for you there.", she said softly with a smile.

Ah, yes. You had to go back to your home with the person you least wanted to encounter. You still had not told your mother about this interaction with your mate, and that was why you made up fake excuses to stay in your Mother's marui for the time being.

You gave your Mother a smile and a respectful nod and stood up, saying your goodbye as you lightly walked out of the marui.

The night time was always a peaceful time of day for all, but not for you.

You trekked silently along the village, worrying about not waking anybody from their slumber. Once you reached your marui you let out a sigh and had a deep breath. Tonowari had to still be out with his companions hunting, right?

You walked in and were greeted by a familiar face, your mate. He sat along the bed you shared, sharpening his spear and focusing his attention directly on it. Oh, Eywa.

He stopped and raised his head taking a look at you. You shared eye contact, which was silent. Although, your eyes spoke volumes.

Both of you stayed like this for a few seconds before he reverted his attention to his spear once more. Although, there was a bit of guilt marked on his face, something you could not see.

You clenched your fist and let out a small sigh and spoke.

"Am I really this clingy and irritating to you like you speak of?"

Why would you say that? Eywa please help me, you thought. Maybe you should've stayed silent. But you continued.

His eyes quickly came to yours, with that same silent eye contact. He looked lost for words, this you could see.

"Please tell me that at least a part of this was real, Tonowari.", you spoke in whispers, holding back a tear.

"Speak Tonowari, please."

"You made a promise.", you continued.

These words shot daggers into his heart. He was so used to his quiet and loving wife. Why did he feel all this sorrow deep in his heart if he believed you were so irritating?

"I'm.. I'm sorry.", he spoke quietly.

"What are you sorry for?"

"For everything, for what I said. And for how I acted.", he said breaking the eye contact, for he couldn't bear to see the pain written all over your face.

He dropped his spear and stood up, coming close to you, so that both your waists were almost in touch. As he towers over you, you feel a wet tear rolling down your face. Not yours. His.

He raised his hand and stroked a piece of your hair gently.

"I don't know how to love you… but I'm ready to try.", he speaks.

"No. We're finished, Tonowari. You do not love me.", you reply, tears now visible in your eyes.

You get out of his grasp.

"I'm leaving.", you grab your things, clothes, anything you could possibly snatch in those 10 seconds. You spot your seashell on the table. The seashell he gifted you. Your disdainful gaze softened a bit at the sight, before you grabbed that as well. You shoved everything in a basket before going in front of him again.

"Please, yawntu, I will try and I will be better. I-", he said and you cut him off.

"Don't, please.", you winced a bit at his words. "Don't make this harder than it should be." You grabbed his hand, gently although you wish you hadn't. You placed a familiar seashell in his hand, and closed his finger, making his grab the seashell in his hand.

"Goodbye, yawntutsyìp."

"Goodbye, Tonowari."

shelli's note. sooo.. part 2 wasn't out as soon as i thought it would be. apologies, but finals has me in a chokehold. 💋 also, thank you so much for all the nice comments, trust i read every one of them :)

glossary. yawntu - beloved / yawntutsyìp - little loved one / maite - daughter

taglist. @shadowmoonlight0604 @illumi3 @ohh-to-be-a-frog @domino-x3-blog @neteyamforlife @queentheweeb @nervoussongcherryblossom @dopedreamobject @peachinsomniac @arminsgfloll @thehoneymushroomhealer @anangelwhodidntfall @tojisleftarm @koalalafications @isimpforfictionalppl @gg-trini @avatar4life @bellstwd @kgive @kirisimpster @johfaam @mrs-sullys-blog @zoexme @saltedcoffeescotch @hangezoes-wife @myh3artttt @ramdomhoe @versz @mortallyscrumptiousmilkshake @reallysparklychaos @awblessme @die4niyahhh @serenaaasworld @annna101 @lunamhm565i @zoetrope1997 @princessknight005 @hoziersfairy @depressedriches @kittenslovie @bewbz2110 @vilovedr @amiets2 @yukichan67 @drunkscientists @janelongxox @violet-19999 @spookymicrowave @peterbesteyyy @cryingwhilereading @moonpie3000 @mysticfoxphilosopher @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @ghostlyworld @vermilionzombie @peterbesteyyy @salyourpal @ichoosetotorment @banana-milkbread @defiance749 @pinkzalien

© seashelldom 2023 ; all rights reserved ; do not translate, copy, claim my work as your own, or repost on another site.

[chrysalis-the-butterfly]

Lease Bound is still going - now with bonus sexual assault.

I haven't talked much about Lease Bound here, apart from a post focusing on Blaire Hopburn and one reblog. But the latest page update left me so shocked, so disturbed, that I had to say something about it.

Quick bit of context: It's Chapter 13, and we're back at Yonique, the lesbian bar where bouncer Jaden had that infamous encounter with three trans women. Tonight is Ballroom Night, where both single women and women in relationships can learn to partner dance. But there's an odd number of people, so Jaden is pulled off door duty and enlisted to take part by her fellow bouncers Parniya and Shez:

Jaden: You can't just call "shotty not" before one party is even present! I wasn't even working on that day! Parniya: (hates dancing) Our mistake. We'll take note for next time. Jaden: B-But I'm wearing shorts, so I'm the most under-dressed! Shez: (hates wearing sleeves) That's no worries. Ari's gotcha there! Parniya and Shez: (tossing Jaden into Ari's arms) GOOD LUCK!

Already we've got Jaden being forced to do something against her will. But it gets worse.

Jaden is pulled up on stage in front of the guests and other Yonique staff. Ari, the club's DJ and social media manager, does a quick little magic trick and produces a screen.

And then this happens.

Ari: For my next trick: I'm gonna turn this dweeby bouncer... (moves behind the screen) ...Into a dreamboat! (Ari removes Jaden's t-shirt, shorts and shoes, which fly into the air, along with the chair Jaden had been sitting on) Jaden: HEY! W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! (Additional items of clothing fly into the audience) Jaden: ACK! Where are you getting all those clothes?! Ari: Oooh! This one is perfect...!

Ari is giving Jaden a new outfit for Ballroom Night. Before she does that, though, Ari suddenly and without warning removes Jaden's clothes. In front of an audience. Behind a screen, yes, but still very publicly (you can even still see their silhouettes through the screen).

This is sexual assault.

That's not hyperbole. This Australian website explains that "being exposed to sexual behaviour without your consent, such as forcing someone to take their clothes off" (emphasis mine) counts as sexual assault.

Now, technically Ari is taking Jaden's clothes off for her, rather than making Jaden take them off herself, but it's the same principle, isn't it?

And what makes it even worse is that ... I don't think Jaden even wears a bra.

Because in Chapter 10, in a flashback to a make-out scene, her then-girlfriend Alexis cups Jaden's breast, and there's no indication that Jaden had needed to take a bra off first - implying that she doesn't always wear a bra.

What if she happened to not be wearing a bra on Ballroom Night? What if her breasts got exposed to Ari when Ari stripped her of her t-shirt? Wouldn't that be humiliating and degrading?

And Ari is a character we're supposed to like! She's a lesbian working for Yonique, and the Yonique staff are supposed to be the good guys! (Or good gyns, I guess?) The author clearly wants her audience to like these lesbians and bi women more than the trans and enby characters. And yet she has one of her lesbians sexually assault another?!

Compare this to the QT Collective (the LGBTQIA+ university club that Blaire is part of). The worst thing the trans men and enbies do is speculate on Jaden's gender identity based on one photo and a few comments from Blaire, who's only just met her. Prying into the gender identity of a real person, a stranger, is pretty iffy. But it's nowhere near as bad as forcibly taking someone's clothes off.

Not even the trans women in Chapter 3 do anything like this! True, Ginger threatens to assault Jaden, but Jaden is able to stop Ginger before that happens. She's in Bouncer Mode, and prepared to defend herself.

Here, though, not only has she been thrust into a situation she never agreed to be in, but she's been stripped of her clothes by a coworker in front of an audience.

Actually, this isn't the first time Jaden has been in these awkward situations. In Chapter 12, Shez brings Jaden in to assist with her self-defence class, without telling Jaden that's what she's doing, prompting Jaden to think, "What the hell have I gotten myself into...?"

And earlier in Chapter 3, a trio of women flirt with Jaden and try to draw her away from her post. They get pretty touchy, leaning against her. At the time, one could brush it off as a comedy moment, with Jaden being portrayed as a heartthrob who doesn't realise how handsome she is to others, but now it hits different.

But even after everything that had happened with the comic so far, I didn't expect this. At best, it's a comic makeover moment that falls flat. (The Cast Page does say Ari has a "juvenile sense of humour".) At worst, it's a revival of the Predatory Lesbian trope.

In any other story, this behaviour would not be okay. It would be called out, and Ari would face some sort of consequences for her actions, and Jaden would get support. But here, I strongly suspect this will be brushed aside as "just Ari being Ari". Or maybe a commentor will argue that it's not sexual assault and say, "Heaven forbid a woman do anything."

Then again, Blaire did looked pretty shocked at the spectacle. Maybe she'll speak up in future pages, and tell Ari it's not okay to do that to someone. She can be pretty stubborn when she strongly believes in something.

Come on, Blaire! Do it for feminism!

Sexual Assault Resources

For the UK: https://survivorsnetwork.org.uk/resources/

For the US: https://www.nsvrc.org/survivors

For Australia: https://www.nasasv.org.au/support-directory

Feel free to reblog and add more for other countries.

[rock-n-macabre]

Guilty as Charged - Severen x fem!reader

✨ This is a one-shot based off of the Severen x reader series, requested by @sailormoon181 with a request of Severen's gal being one with a zest for getting in trouble, and he has to discipline 'em ...but did Severen bite off more than he can chew? (Like always. Gluttonous rabid possum man.) ✨

I giggle and hold up the stolen garment up to Severen for his approval.

"We can transfer your pins and patches to this thing. Just gotta get me a seam ripper, and I'll start on it!" I beam with enthusiasm. I was determined on helping revive his tattered trophy jacket after the 18 wheeler fiasco.

Everyone turns in the RV, including Jesse who spares a quick glance over his shoulder before his eyes widen for a moment.

"Did you jus' steal that from that vendor on the boardwalk?" Jesse questioned me.

With a mischievous grin spreading across my lips , I give a small nod.

"No one saw a thing, swear on it, Jess'! I jus' couldn't handle hearing Sev lament about his unfixable jacket. Believe me, that thing was tattered beyond repair. You know me...I'd do anything to make him happy." I bat my eyelashes, which by no means worked on the seasoned veteran.

Jesse slammed his hand down on the steering wheel.

"Were you even aware of the surveillance cameras around?"

"I....but...."

"Or the people in the surrounding stalls attempting at selling their goods while y'all flamboyant fuckers were causing a scene?"

"Well ~I~ was being quiet, Sev on the other hand....."

"OH GODDAMNIT ENOUGH! Can't we have one night where we don't have to worry about you both causing mayhem?! I expected better of you. Him? We're used to it by now. That was a risky move, Y/N. Too damn risky." Jesse growled before focusing back on the road.

"Jess' , c'mon now, she didn' mean to...." Severen started before Jesse cut him off.

"The two of you enable each other way too damn much! Now... Since you've been with us much longer, Severen, I trust in you to... discipline Y/N. You nipped 'em, so you'll teach 'em." Jesse finished the conversation, leaving Severen to look in between Y/N and Jesse before looking up to Diamondback for guidance. She let out a small laugh and shrug.

"This is gonna end up well .... " She rolled her eyes as Homer scoffed.

"Y/N is just as bad as Severen in regards to that! Discipline? More like treat them. There'll be no learning done!" Homer groaned.

Diamondback laughed as she knew all too well of the moments where Severen 'disciplined' Y/N. It was just like how Severen got pure enjoyment out of his scoldings. The two were cut from the same cloth; it was both a blessing and a curse.

Severen had a glint of mischief in his eyes as he reached out his hand for Y/N to take hold of as he helped them up.

"Now, now, darlin'.... I reckon I oughta teach ya a lesson. Only outlaw allowed to make like a bandit is yours truly... Not a sweet li'l thing like yerself.....ya don't want ta get in any trouble now, would ya, honey pie?" He smirked as he led Y/N to the back corner of the RV out of sight from others.

I looked up at him as I followed his lead. I knew damn well the punishment he had in mind wasn't gonna do no good. It just made me want to repeat offend. He knew it damn well, too.

He took a seat before he brought me down to sprawl across his lap.

"Now, darlin'.... After each...tap .. I want ya to thank me. I saved yer behind. It's the leas' ya could do." He smirked. I barely had any time to react when he delivered the first smack across my ass. He probably thought he was being courteous by giving a small rub and squeeze after.

"T-thank you, Sev! Ahhh..." I give a small groan and he goes to deliver another smack.

"Tha's a good girl, darlin'!" He cooed, before rubbing again after the smack.

The smacks and the "thank you's" lasted for about 10 times before I started to cave. Words becoming jumbled into the pillow on the ground. Severen stopped for a moment to gently lift my head up, his hands clamped around my cheeks.

"Wha' was that, honey? Couldn' hear ya." He smirked.

I groaned as I looked at him, eyes half lidded.

"Sev...please ..." Severen tutted me.

"Now 'm glad yer using yer manners like a good girl, but I'm lookin' fer 'thank you', not please....but..I guess beggin' works good too....ya know how much I love to hear ya beg for me, darlin'.... It does things...." He slipped his hand back down lower to feel in between my legs before I looked up and gave a chuckle.

"Now, sugar ...by the looks of things, I reckon you rather enjoyed your punishment..." His gaze stayed locked on mine.I give a lazy grin before rolling so I'm laying face up on his lap.

"I reckon you're right, cowboy. Guilty as charged."

A look of amusement comes across Severen's face before turning to a devious expression that would make the devil tremble.

"Now that just won't do, huh darlin'? Jess' told me to give ya a learnin', and I intend on doin' so." I have barely time to react as he tackles me to the floor, pinning me down, before reaching for a pair of handcuffs he had stolen off a cop. In a fluid motion, he cuffed my wrists before sitting back on his heels and looking at me.

"You'll have to behave yerself fer me, okay honey?" He grinned as he booped my nose. Ugh that man.

"You've GOT to be kidding me. Severen, I swear --" I get cut off by him tying one of the kerchiefs he had, using it as a makeshift gag in my mouth. He crouches down so his face is mere inches from mine. My eyes narrow at him.

"No back talkin' your elders now, sweetheart. Tell ya what...if ya behave....I'll treat ya nice. Jus' gotta sit still for the next....I'd say two an' a half hours.... Ya can be a good gal for me and I'll come back for ya. Swear on it." He winked before placing a kiss on my forehead.

He started to head towards the main quarters of the RV, before he turned around to look at me.

"This oughta learn ya to behave...even though it was a mighty cute gesture. I gotta admit....Ya look pretty when yer all tied up, darlin'." He said before leaving me to my lonesome.

Joke's on him.... I'll never behave. He probably knows it too. I chuckle to myself, shifting a little bit. He was just as bad. I guess it was punishment in the end the way he just left me hanging after riling me up. Deep down I knew he was biting at the bit to finish what he started. I could see his shadow sitting down, his leg bouncing on anticipation. I was right. I, too, was driving him wild.

And that's what makes it all so damn fun.

[animasolaoriginal]

(4) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 4: The Truth

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.4k -- READ ON AO3

when a girl learns more than she can handle

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

Additional warning: there's sexual assault ⚠️ in this chapter, just a small scene, but I'll tag it nonetheless. Nothing too graphic, but the implication is there! Read at your own risk!

4

There are eleven people in this camp, Nebbia included, but there are more than a dozen horses, and she's only managed to take care of half of them before Ben beckons her into the shade near the tree line, close to where Thunder grazes, and presents her with food.

And only then does she notice that she's starving. She takes the steaming bowl with shaking fingers, not caring how dirty they are. Horses can be surprisingly dusty, and she can only imagine them running through sand storms or muddy terrain.

The mountain of a man sits on the ground, leaning against a log, his long legs stretched in front of him, one knee angled, his own bowl in one large hand while he pushes the soup's contents around with a spoon in the other. She settles next to him, bringing the stew to her nose and inhaling deeply. Vegetables, some sort of meat, a hearty broth, all so savory and delicious smelling, she feels her mouth watering just staring at it.

“So Ginny is the cook?” she asks with a side-glance. “And Milly the washer, the Stacys work in the supply tent, you are the horse guy,” she keeps listing. “Mitch runs the place and Steve... helps him? What do the three other men do?”

He watches her with an amused glint in his dark eyes. “They mostly sit around and drink,” he says with a deep chuckle. “They're more useful on... well, for other things, outside the camp.”

Nebbia stares at him, so many questions burning under her nails. But for now she focuses on the food, bringing the bowl to her lips and taking a cautious sip. Humming softly, she closes her eyes as the warm liquid runs down her throat.

“Also we do switch our chores, you know?” he adds while she enjoys her food. “I cook sometimes, or provide the meat. And I can stack boxes, too.”

She looks at him as she lowers the bowl and smirks at him. “Have you ever washed clothes over a washing board?” she teases lightly. “Or in the creek?”

“Milly never let me,” he replies with a wink. “And I do not want to mess with that woman!”

A laugh spills from her lips before she rolls her eyes. “Sure, Ben,” she says, holding his amused gaze. “You're afraid of a tiny little lady?”

“Those are the worst,” he chuckles, gently poking her with his elbow. “Right, short stuff?”

She shoots him a dark glare, but can't keep the smile down. It feels so easy to joke with him. “Oh, right you are, mister mountain! We're ankle-biters, after all!”

He nudges her again, giving her another wink before he goes back to eating his soup. She keeps looking at him as she does the same. They eat in comfortable silence, surrounded by the buzzing of insects, the neighing and snorting of the horses, and the bird song in the trees behind them. It's so peaceful, and she still wonders what the catch is.

How did she go from worrying about doing her job right and not dying doing it, to casually sitting on a meadow with this large man who is still technically a stranger to her – and despite it all, it feels right. Feels good. And she realizes she has missed being so... carefree. She hasn't been carefree since the day the Madam has told her she had to start serving men now.

Without training, without proper warning. That first night, with her first cock in her throat, she has wanted to die, to never do this again, because it had hurt so bad and was awful and dirty, and she has been so ashamed of it, disgusted by it. So much so she has scrubbed her tongue afterwards until it has bled.

And even though she has endured it, it never got easier, she always cared about it, about trying to make it better for herself, about doing a good job, about holding it together until the customer was gone. Then she would worry about the next one, and the next... An endless cycle of worries, and she only learned to hide her true feelings better, to pretend she didn't care.

But now she is here, worry-free, for now at least, sitting in the shade, eating a hearty meal, next to a nice man for once. And it all feels too good to be true...

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ben whispers beside her, leaning towards her. She flinches and almost drops the bowl.

“Uh, nothing,” she replies, giving him a weak smile, trying to focus on the stew in her hands.

“Really?” His voice is a low hum in the air.

She takes a deep breath. “What's the catch?” she then blurts out, putting the bowl to the ground next to her as she turns to him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in worry.

“The catch?” he asks, deep lines on his forehead.

“This is all... well, it feels so different, so nice, so easy. And life isn't supposed to be that easy, is it?” She fidgets with the hitched-up part of her skirt, pulling her knees to her body and hiding them under the wide material.

“You sound awfully bitter for an eighteen-year-old,” he muses, scooting a little closer to her until she feels the warmth of his hip against hers. “But you're right, life isn't as easy as we sometimes wish it would be. But it's easier here, I promise. You're not alone, you're not forced to do things you don't want to do,” he adds, tilting his head to her as she cautiously turns hers towards him, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes are gentle, warm, inviting, she can't look away. “You can ask for help here. You can say no...”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating his words, still fixated on him, and the elephant in the room. “What do you do, Ben? Outside the camp?” she then whispers, watching him frown slightly, before he looks away with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trying to make a living,” he then says quietly, his eyes wandering over the camp and the house in the distance, while hers wander over his body, the gun on his belt, the cowboy boots, the muscles in his exposed forearms. “With any means necessary,” he adds, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She stares at him, torn between wanting to feel scared of the image that pops up in her head (Ben holding a gun to another man's head, his face hidden behind a bandana, his other hand closed around a sack of money or other loot) and wanting to justify his actions, wanting to see reason, to understand it. Making a living... by taking it from another? She remembers the supply tent, how well stocked it was, his room full of little boxes and trinkets, how much money he's spent on her last night.

“So, I was right?” she then whispers, licking her lips as she looks him over. “You are the type I would encounter on a Wanted poster?”

He looks at her, his face unreadable, eyes hard and slightly darker, his jaw clenched. Without saying anything, he tilts his body to the side and puts his hand into his back pocket, fishing out a folded piece of paper – that he hands to her.

She frowns, takes the paper and slowly unfolds it. The page is weathered, yellowish, crinkled. Its edges are sharp and rough as if it's been looked at a lot. And there it is, Ben's face, pencil drawn. He looks a little younger there, his hair a bit thicker, the beard less full, the shape of his jaw more defined. The eyes are the same, hard and deep, only with less lines around them.

There are words over and under it, but she can't read them, yet she assumes this is a Wanted poster, maybe it says Dead or Alive, listing his crimes in dark font she can't make out. She traces a finger over the picture of his face, trying to process what this means. He's an outlaw. A criminal. Wanted by the law. What did he do?

“I have another one,” he says quietly, watching her closely. “It's even older than that, about twenty years old.” She looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. Wordlessly he fingers another folded piece of paper out of the chest pocket of his shirt and holds it between his index and middle finger, asking her to take it. “It might surprise you...”

She doesn't know what to expect, but she takes it, unfolds it, looking between him and the even more yellowish paper, even more used than the other one that lies on her knees, Ben's drawn face looking up at her while the real one has his eyes fixed on her hands.

Inhaling deeply, she flattens the paper, more words on the top and the bottom, but this time there are two pictures on it. One of Ben, looking even younger, with just the shadow of a beard, nothing more than stubble, hollow cheeks and a straight nose, his face hard and his eyes even harder. And next to him, in the other picture, she sees...

Herself.

Her eyebrows furrow. It's a girl, with long wavy hair in a side braid (just like she has now), draped over one shoulder, a round face with a pointy chin and high cheekbones and a small nose, beautifully arched eyebrows and full lips, and eyes that pierce her soul. Even in the sepia tone of the aged paper and the fading black print, they are lighter, almost shimmering in the way they're drawn. Her eyes.

She looks up at Ben in slight surprise. “Is that...”

“Your mother,” he says softly, gently taking the paper from her shaking hands, now tracing his rough fingertip over the edges of the girl's face on it.

Nebbia doesn't know what to think. Seeing her mother on a Wanted poster does nothing to her. Somehow it fits the image she has of her, an outlaw would also abandon her child in a brothel, right? Something hot twists inside her stomach, something bitter at the edge of her throat.

“We were... a good team,” Ben continues with a smile, oblivious to her lack of reaction, as he stares at the drawn face in front of him. “They never got us, not for long anyways.”

“What did you do?” she whispers barely audible, leaning slightly closer to him as if the horses could listen in to their conversation. As if the camp surrounding them didn't already know what they were discussing. The camp of outlaws.

Ben looks up at her, quiet for a moment as his eyes wander over her face, the same face as on the paper in his large hands that he slowly, carefully, lovingly, folds up again without looking at it. “Taking from the rich. Sharing with the poor.”

He makes it sound so... poetic. “You've been robbers. Thieves,” she says, not even putting it as a question. “You're outlaws, wanted by the law...”

There's a twinkle in his brown eyes, before his lips tilt into a smirk. “Yes,” he replies quietly, holding her gaze. “Does that scare you?”

It should.

But then she thinks back to her initial thoughts about the man sitting next to her. Good guys, bad guys, does it even matter? In a world where a sheriff can treat her like the whore she's been, leaving her bloody and bruised, while an outlaw like Ben has treated her with so much respect she almost wishes he'd be a little rougher with her. Does it make sense? Probably not. Does it matter? Not really.

“No,” she says, as steady as she can manage. “You've not given me any reason to be scared.” Yet.

His smile is dazzling, his lips curl up over straight teeth, one very visible dimple on his bearded cheek, the lines around his eyes deepening. “And you don't have to worry about anything, sweetheart. No one's gonna harm you, me included.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, and she can't help it, she smiles back, her cheeks warming up, before she slowly lowers her eyes back to the poster on her knees, Ben's stoic face looking up at her. “What... what does it say?” she asks after a moment of silence, her finger tracing the letters she cannot understand.

He watches her, his smile fading. His hot breath hits her cheek as he exhales loudly while leaning over her, his arm draping around her shoulder before he takes her hand into his gently, guiding her finger to the top text. “This says WANTED,” he whispers, and she shivers as she feels the roughness of his beard against her cheek, while he moves her finger along the edges of the large letters. “That's my name,” he continues, showing her the line of letters beneath the title.

She holds her breath, the warmth of his touch making her feel dizzy. Her eyes wander from how his big hand holds her smaller one to his drawn picture. He moves their joined hands lower, to the lines below his face. “That's the reward.”

“How much is it?” she breathes, not daring to move much.

He huffs a laugh, his jaw moving against her cheek. He's so close, his touch gentle, his body leaned over her as he holds her hand, embracing her comfortably. “$1000.”

“Is that a lot?”

“Yes, quite the sum,” he replies, almost sounding proud. There's smaller lines of text below that, and he slowly drags her finger over each word as he lists them. “These are my... felonies,” he says quietly. “Stage coach robbery, train robbery, bank robbery, horse theft, trespassing, property destruction.” He pauses, her finger pressed to the last word. She can make out six letters.

She waits, breathing shallowly against him. “What's the last word?”

He inhales deeply, slowly letting go of her hand and leaning back, retrieving his arm. She watches him as he takes the paper from her, folds it back together, then slips it into his back pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. It still chills her to the bone when he stands up, looks down at her with dark eyes and replies: “Murder.”

A little gasp escapes her. Her eyes wander over his hands, those large hands, long fingers, with veins and tendons moving under tanned skin, the calloused feel of them, full of scars and scratches. And she hears the crack of a nose as he's slammed the same hand, a brutal fist, into the other man's face. Because he's called her a whore.

She doesn't know how she feels about it. He's a strong man, she's seen his muscles, felt his strength, witnessed his brutality, violence, but when she looks into his warm eyes, she cannot picture him murdering someone. Her mind still gives her possible images.

Bullets flying through the air in quiet hisses, wood splintering, meaty thuds when they hit their target, shouts, yells, cries of pain. Blood seeping into the dirt.

Her eyes move to the pistol peeking out of the holster on his hips.

The barrel of a gun pressed to someone's temple, a strong hand holding them in place. Whispered threats, wide eyes of the victim, and then a finger on the trigger, bending, pressing down. Muffled cries, the echo of a gunshot, then sudden silence. Blood everywhere.

She swallows hard and looks down, hugging her arms around her knees. A shadow looms over her, and she lets out a little shriek when Ben crouches down in front of her, his large hands on her knees, his eyes boring into hers.

“Don't be afraid of me,” he whispers, eyebrows furrowed. “And don't trust these words. There's always more to a story than a simple word...”

Tell me then, she thinks, her lips trembling, unable to get the thought out.

“I'll tell you another time,” he says softly, as if reading her mind, one hand moving up to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping over the corner of her mouth. She holds her breath, her heart thundering inside her chest. “Okay?” His question hangs in the air.

Are you okay with not asking any more questions for now?

She nods into his hand, and he smiles slightly, then leans up and presses his dry lips to her forehead before he straightens and holds out his hand to her. She looks up, confused, flustered, not sure how to act, but she grabs his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. He holds it for a moment longer, watching her closely.

“Alright,” he then says, letting go of her, rolling his shoulders. “Let's get back to work, hm?”

The sun is setting behind the house, tinting the whole camp in an orange hue. The horses have been fed and brushed, some of them have braids in their manes and tails now, and she looks back at the fifteen horses and recites their names in her head. She's always been good with names somehow.

On the other side of the meadow she sees Ben carrying a sack of feed towards the troughs. She gives the little chestnut girl named Foxie, who snorts and bows her head as she smiles at her, a last pet, a last praise (“Good girl, Foxie.”), and then makes her way to the tall man who dumps the sack with a low groan to the ground.

“Looking good,” he growls in his deep voice, rolling his shoulder as he takes a look around the meadow and the happy horses. “Not sure Bill will appreciate what you did to his Libby, though,” he adds with a smirk, and she looks back to the tall mouse gray mare whose black mane is decorated with little wild flowers and braids.

She huffs a little snicker, blushing slightly. “Might make his ride to the brothel more pleasant,” she says under her breath, and Ben looks at her and barks a loud laugh, his large hand coming up to pat her back playfully, causing her to stumble slightly.

“Good one,” he croaks out, shaking his head, his hand still resting on her back. “You're a feisty one, eh, Miss Nebbia?” he jokes with a wink.

Her cheeks burn up even more as she looks away, feeling the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her blouse.

“You'll fit right in here with us,” he says softly and leans slightly over her, his hand sliding down to her lower back.

She turns her head to him, giving him a timid smile. His brown eyes glow in the light of the setting sun, causing her to stare at them longer than is necessary. Appropriate. He nudges her side with his fingers and smirks at her, then lets go and walks past her.

“Come on now, I think you deserve a wash,” he tells her.

Her heart skips a beat as she thinks back to last night, sharing a bath with him. Even if it has been rather innocent, with both of them on either side of the tub and only the occasional touches (You had your foot on his cock, she remembers with a little gasp, is that considered innocent?), it hasn't left her mind, and the want is still there. The want for more.

Nebbia follows him back to the house, but instead of entering it, he takes a turn to the left and rounds the corner. She can see the sheets and clothes billowing in the soft evening breeze near the creek, a little behind the house, and Milly walking between them checking if they're dry already. What she hasn't noticed before is another area further to the left, fenced off with tarps, nestled between two large pines.

Ben stops in front of it, watching her closely. Once she approaches him, standing small before him, looking up with a curious furrow in her brows, he gives her a smirk and raises one corner of the tarp, showing her what's behind them. She frowns further. It's not what she has expected.

It is like somebody took a wooden barrel, sawed it in half and presented the new pieces as tiny bath tubs. She might fit into it if she squatted, but she couldn't see Ben fitting anywhere near those tubs, unless he'd use it as a foot bath. Her disappointment must have been visible on her face.

He laughs softly and leans closer. “Sorry, darling, looks like you gotta do that on your own this time.” Her head snaps to him, her lips parted. It's almost creepy how easily he can read her.

His large hand closes around her smaller one as he pulls her past the tarps, letting them fall behind them. The area is small, only the barrel tubs and a small fire-pit between them with a large pot full of water on it. It smells like soap and flowers.

“Looks like Milly has it all ready for you,” he says softly, testing the water with his pinky, raising his eyebrows in confirmation, nodding to himself. “Just get in the tub and use the ladle here,” he points to a large wooden ladle hanging from the pot, “to pour water over yourself to wash. Leave it in the tub when you're done. You think you can do that?” he asks with a teasing smirk.

She stares at him, then at the set-up around her, ignoring the tease in his voice. Her eyes wander to the second bath tub. “Will you... join me?” she whispers quietly, stupidly hopeful.

He scoffs a laugh, his hand on her shoulder. “No, this is for the ladies only. Us filthy men will wash in the creek. Milly's made that very clear.” She looks at him, smiling tightly, trying to hide the pout threatening to take over. He seems to notice the struggle and squeezes his fingers into her collarbone gently. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

With that he leaves her standing there, beside the steaming pot of water and the strange little bath tubs. The tarp flaps down again after he's gone. An unsteady breath escapes her. She feels strangely empty without him, alone, cold despite the fire burning beneath the pot. Somehow she's gotten used and accustomed to his large presence, and without it, she can barely breathe.

And it hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

She's spent the entire day with him, or in his close proximity, and last night has been... so intimate, even though nothing has happened (sexually), but he has been there, treating her right, being nice, giving her hope. And he took her with him, allowing her a chance, letting her sleep in his bed, inviting her to meet his people, fighting for her honor, giving her something to do, making her feel like part of something.

But she isn't part of anything if he's not here. It's a strange revelation, and she wonders how she's become so dependent on him, on anyone, when all her life she's been alone, despite being surrounded by so many people. The girls at the brothel haven't been friends, nor family, Madam Claire was not like a mother, more like a... mistress, not giving praise, but demands. Mary has been the only one who's looked out for her, at least a little over the last two years, checking in occasionally, and Nebbia realizes with a heavy heart that she may never see her again.

She wonders what she's doing right now, but then she knows what she's doing, or going to do this night. The same as every night.

It feels unreal to be away from there. Inhaling deeply, the warmth of soapy, flowery steam filling her lungs, she starts undressing, layer after layer, thinking about what she would be doing if she were back at the house.

Preparing for the night, making herself look presentable (knowing it wouldn't matter after the first client who will leave her covered in cum and saliva, her hair messed up from being gripped so hard, her rouge and lipstick smeared from being handled so roughly), and she'd wait, kneeling in front of the armchair by the fire, listening for those footsteps, waiting, waiting for the door to open, for the next customer to walk in.

And she can't even imagine how she would wait lying on the bed, waiting to be claimed, trying to fulfill her new role as a real lady of the night now that she's of age and ready, or expected to be ready. Luckily she may never find out what it will be like to have a random stranger take her however he wants, doing absolutely anything with her just because he's left some dollars in the greedy hands of Madam Claire.

She's been so lucky that the first man to barge through her door on the night of her initiation has been Ben.

Exhaling deeply, she feels a shiver rushing down her spine as she thinks of him, the mountain of a man, so much bigger, taller than her, the gentle giant, his large hands holding her safely, everything about him gives her peace, calms her down, except for the little throb between her legs and the rapid beat of her heart whenever he's close to her.

With her mind occupied with his brown eyes, his handsome face, the sound of his beard scraping over her skin, the strong twitch of the muscles in his arms, she steps into one of the wooden tubs, kneeling down in it, and starts pouring warm water over her stiff neck and shoulders, calming under the warmth and smell of it.

She doesn't notice the flap of the tarp being pushed back until it is too late.

⚠️ A large hand presses to her mouth, and she gasps against it, eyes wide as she stares up at the intruder. It is not Ben. Her heart beats so hard it hurts in her chest, panic gripping at every single nerve and muscle. She flails, struggles, writhes in the strong hold, tries to kick and get away, but the tall man (what's his name, one of those three?, she can't remember) grips her, lifting her up effortlessly, dragging her out of the tub.

Her feet scrape over the ground as she sinks her nails into his wrist, blinking rapidly, trying to see who the attacker is, she's usually so good with names, but she can't remember, can't think. Screaming into the hand on her mouth, she keeps kicking, until she gets kicked in the stomach. All air leaves her, all fight gone as she convulses in pain, stars dancing behind her eyelids.

She's thrown into the dirt, chin hitting the hard earth, causing her to groan, not immediately noticing that the hand is gone. A heavy boot presses between her shoulder blades, pushing her flat on her stomach, before a big hand grabs her wrists to hold them behind her back, the grip brutal, unyielding. She can't move, only kick her legs helplessly before she feels a knee pushing them apart.

Panicked wails escape her, and another hand grips her hair, twists it, almost rips it while the braid comes undone, presses her cheek into the ground, keeping her still, but only for a bit, as her attacker realizes he might need a hand to do what he wants to do. She's not stupid, she knows, she feels her hips being lifted, ass up, her knees pressed into the soil beneath her, hands held behind her back, a body pushing between her thighs, something hot and heavy slapping against her sex.

Whimpers, silent cries, hot tears streaming down her face. Not like this, she thinks. Please... not like this... “B-Ben...” she gasps, trying to think of him, imagining how he would take her for the first time. Definitely not like this, pushed into the dirt, held in an iron grip, exposed and helpless. A body to use, and nothing more. He'd treat her right... “Ben...”

“Shut up,” a low hiss comes to her ear, a rough voice, she has no idea who it belongs to, and then suddenly, a sharp pain on her butt cheek as a hand like a branding iron snaps against her soft flesh. She screams into the dirt, squirming helplessly. A grunt fills the steamy air, it's gotten darker around her, not just because she can barely breathe in her position, with the pain of the slap throbbing through her body, but the sun is gone. It's dark and hopeless. Something hard pokes at her entrance.

“Ben!” she cries out through a curtain of tears, with the last bit of strength, courage, she can muster. The person behind her pauses, curses, and suddenly she's being pushed further into the ground, dirt scraping over her bare breasts, then hurried, receding footsteps, the tarp flaps, cold air brushes over her raised ass.

She falls to her side, still in that awkward position, massaging her hurting wrists behind her back, breathless, unable to do anything else. /⚠️

And suddenly he's there, his large hands picking her up carefully, lifting her onto strong arms, pressing her to his warm chest. “What happened?” she hears his deep voice. “Who did this?”

She blinks, feels him scraping dirt off her cheek, wiping at her tears. Her arms wrap around his neck as she holds onto him. “I-I don't kn-know...” she stammers, shivers. He inhales deeply, a rumble through his chest.

He sets her down for a moment, on trembling legs, it's cold, but her skin burns. Wrapping a blanket around her, covering her up, he picks her up again, cradling her in his arms as he carries her out of the bathing area, towards the house. “Are you hurt?” he whispers, his voice strained, as if he's holding back his anger.

A fist in another man's face. She flinches at the memory.

“N-no,” she breathes, leaning against him, cocooned in the blanket, unable to touch him. “They left before –” they could soil my innocence, she thinks in both terror and relief.

Her eyes wander up to him. Even in the dark she can see the muscle moving beneath his skin as he clenches his jaw tightly. He brings her to his room, not saying anything, sets her down on his bed, covers her in even more blankets. She tries to free her hands, and when she manages to slip one out of her cocoon, she grabs his wrist, holding him back, looking up in desperation. “Don't leave,” she murmurs under her breath.

He stares at her, his face hard, like the one on his Wanted posters. Murder. The word echoes in her head, and she can see this man looming over her doing just that. But she isn't afraid of him, she's... glad. In a twisted sort of way. Knowing what he is capable of. The strength in his arms, his body.

But when he closes his long fingers around her hand and sits down on the edge of the bed, she's relieved he doesn't follow the urge to repeat the crime she has yet to learn more about.

Struggling out of her blankets, she breaks free and throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, presses into him, desperate to feel his warmth, his strong hands on her, comfort, ease, reprieve. He slowly curls his arms around her, one hand holding onto her waist, the other cups around her shoulder, as he embraces her tightly, leaving no room for sorrows.

A tiny voice in her mind complains already. Nothing happened. Stop whining about this. You're fine.

But she doesn't feel fine, because something did happen. She was attacked, inside the camp that was supposed to be her new home. In the rare moments where she was alone, without Ben. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since she left the safety of the house to live in the real world...

A new wave of hot tears spills from her lashes, soaking into the collar of his shirt, her tiny sobs swallowed by how she presses her face into his neck. She feels him inhaling deeply, his grip on her tightening, trying to squeeze every bad thing out of her.

“Shh, it's okay,” he hums against her, his rough chin pressed to the top of her head. His voice and words sink into her cold skin, heating her up from within. “I've got you, baby girl.”

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

END NOTES: Oh the trauma (and all of it just so I could make Ben call her baby girl)!

I gotta say, I love me some dependency and hurt/comfort, even though I'm sorry for what I make happen to poor Nebbia. But it's needed to have these lovely bear hugs...

By the way, I was debating back and forth about the reward sum (again something that comes up once and doesn't matter but I still fixate on it every fucking time): When I played RDR2, all those bounties only ever gave $100 tops, and when looking at the Wanted posters of Dutch and Co. they had much larger sums, but they've been at it a long time, and ooh the stuff they did. But Ben? I didn't want him to be as cold-blooded as the people in the game, but still a criminal worth something, so in the end I settled on $1000. Might make sense, might not, does it matter? Not really. Just sharing my thought process here again, forgive me.

Anyway, back to the growing relationship between Ben and Nebbia. The plot is finally thickening and more things will happen! Stay tuned!

Picture credits to their respective owners. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[legendofmorons]

HELLO I HAVE RETURNED

can i request for a oneshot of reader having a bad mood throughout the day (due to stress/overthinking thoughts) while time notices their bad mood but doesn't want to interfere because he doesn't want to make their mood worse but at the end of the day the reader goes to time and they open up to him about the negative thoughts they've been having while time listens and comforts them (romantic)

— 🐺

Bad day (Time)

Of course! I'm always glad to do hurt/comfort things. And goodness this is an idea!

Pairing: Time x reader

Rating: T for cursing

Summary: When you have a bad day, you choose to see your boyfriend about it. He's supportive as always.

Warnings: None

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You can admit you haven't been doing great lately. Between stress, questing with heroes, and your geneal unease about things, you're irritable.

The weather only makes it worse, gloomy drizzels have been happening all week. You can't get dry or warm. Your clothes cling to you uncomfortably thanks to the rains.

Despite your best efforts to be nice and to play it all off you know you're failing.

It's all a vicious loop that keeps getting worse.

You can feel Time watching you, he has been since last week. He's watching like he knows something is wrong but he dosen’t want to push.

You can't decide if thats annoying or sweet. But you're starting to think both is the answer.

After the shit show that was today, you sit yourself down by the fire, blanket draped over you shoulders to fend of the chill of the autumn air. The fire is starting to truly light and put out heat.

Thankfully, no one seems to interested in dragging you into a conversation. So you just allow yourself to get lost while watching the fire.

You hear more than see someone move to sit beside you. Based on the steps you'd guess it's Time.

He's got even and very quiet steps, but he makes sure to be heard around you and the others. He's very considerate like that.

When you look over you realize it's not Time though, it's Warriors.

Well shit. You really are out if it. Aren't you?

We're ignoring the fact that you're upset that it wasn't your boyfriend and instead focusing on whether or not you want to go see Time or if you want more space.

You decide after a moment that you do want to go see Time. Maybe he'll have some ideas? At least you'll get some affection.

So you nod to Warriors and push to your feet.

You look around, finding Time leaning against a tree a few feet away. He's polishing his shield.

You walk over to him, drawing the blanket tighter over your shoulders.

"Hello, (Y/n)."

"Hey Time." You say with the start if a smile gracing your face.

"How are you feeling? I know today had a lot of running."

"It was- okay I guess. I'm still kicking aren't I?"

Time frowns at your answer. He knows your beating around the bush. He just dosen’t know why.

"You don't have to talk about it.... but please don't pretend to be okay. I worry about you, dear."

You can feel your shoulders relax a little at that. Time is such a sweet heart. He's always so understanding!

"Okay. I'm sorry, Link. I'm just- stressed out and tired."

You watch his face go soft, his brow relaxes and his eyes start to get the look they always get around you.

You've never had someone lobe you so much you could genuinely see it in their eyes yourself. Sure others could see it- but for him to be so in love with you even you recognize it in his eyes? It always makes you melt.

"Is there a way I can help you?"

"Would- Would it be okay if I vent?"

"Of course, dearest. "

"Thanks." You say.

Time sets his shield aside and sits down, patting the spot beside him in invitation. He figures you've been on your feet long enough and that you more than deserve to sit for a while.

You sit down on his right, taking his hand in both of yours as you trace the knuckles and scars on it.

"So... I've been stressed... I'm worried about everyone back home. And what if I get us all killed? What if my family needs me and I'm not there?" You ask, worries falling out one after the other now that you've set them free.

You continue to vent, still tracing Time's hand. Your words grow more tired with each one but you keep talking.

You allow yourself to vent until you feel light. Until you've said everything and then even found worries you didn't know you had until you said them.

And Time? He just listens, occasionally nodding or throwing in an encouraging phrase. He doesn't push you or ask you to stop.

He wishes he could fix all of your problems, but he's more than happy to let you take space to vent. He knows how important that is.

Once you're done venting, you take a deep breath to re-center yourself.

Then you look to Time gently, finding him to be looking right back. "Thanks for listening. "

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll always listen to you, dear. You mean the world to me."

"I appreciate it. I love you, you know."

"I love you too."

"Good." You say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder gently.

You realize that you feel better. By a lot. You can't say it's all Time, but some of it certainly is. But venting definitely helped.

"You know, you're really good at taking care of others."

"Thanks." You say, but you get the feeling Time isn't done talking.

"You're allowed to take care of yourself too. I hope you remember that."

"I'll try."

"Good."

"You have to take care of yourself too."

"I know."

"Can we just stay like this?"

"Of course, (Y/n)." Time says, removing his hand from yours.

He then wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head. "For what it's worth I think you're doing everything you can in all respects. I understand that you are stressed but I hope you know I believe you'll succeed. "

"Oh." You manage, his words sweet and unexpected. "Thank you."

"I'll be here for as long as you need me. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm here for you too."

"I know you are."

"Good."

"You can rest you know, if you fall asleep I'll wake you for dinner."

"You don't have to tell me twice." You say with a smile.

You close your eyes, listening to the others talk, laugh, and move. But the whole time Time just whispers sweet things to you and occasionally calls you pet names.

It's nice.

[aurumacadicus]

steve/bucky/tony i kinda wanna ask for regency au but let’s do pregnant omega tony and his stupid boys

I did do one for Regency a billion years ago (I think you can find it under both the regency au tag and the 5 head canons tag). I always love stupid boys <3

No one is more surprised than Tony when his test comes back with a second little pink line. He'd thought he'd never be able to have children. His doctor had said he was infertile after Afghanistan, not just from stress but because of secondary internal injuries that hadn't been seen as important as his heart when they'd been operating on him in the cave. Apparently, it was a common misconception that people believed "infertile" was synonymous with "sterile." It was possible to get pregnant, just less likely without medical intervention. Tony was being railed by two super-serumed soldiers on the regular, though, which apparently extended to their sperm count. "It basically counts as medical intervention, doesn't it," his doctors had murmured to each other, as if he could not hear them. So. He's pregnant. He doesn't know who the dad is and quite frankly, he doesn't care. But he does worry how they'll take it. So far they've had a pretty smooth relationship, but mostly because all of their problem-solving consists of 'fuck it out.' Now that he's going to be nauseous all the time and gaining weight and everything, he doubts they'll want to touch him with a ten foot pole, let alone fucking his brains out. But he has to tell them, he supposes, even though he's really not looking forward to them gradually distancing themselves until they can figure out how to co-parent.

"Do you know whose it is?" Steve asks. "It's not even an inch big yet," Tony tells him sternly. "I only found out so early because I have to have checkups after every heat. It'll be three weeks before we can do a DNA test." "Aw," Steve and Bucky sulk, crossing their arms over their chests. Then Steve perks up. "Okay, so. Eight months left to--" "Full-term is forty weeks, nine months left," Tony cuts in. "They always said nine," Bucky says, surprised, then hastily adds, "Not that I'm doubting you, I just didn't expect even pregnancy to change in seventy years--" "Pregnancy and babies have changed a lot," Tony begins. Steve shoulders his way between them, scowling. "Yeah, okay, well, we have time to learn. Great, even! Now we have nine months to prepare." "We?" Tony asks, brows furrowing together in confusion. Steve and Bucky stare at him, then turn to each other and do that thing where they talk to each other with their eyebrows and eyerolls. It takes a few minutes, but then they turn back to him, and Steve firmly says, "Yes, Tony. We. We have nine months to prepare for the baby." "We're all in this together," Bucky adds. "Just because the baby isn't biologically one of ours, we're a team. This is our baby." "...Sure," Tony says dubiously. Somehow, neither Bucky nor Steve look offended by it.

Steve and Bucky jump into research with gusto. Tony has no idea what to think of it, so he doesn't, instead focusing on eating healthy and staying fit. He's older than he'd liked to be for his first (only) baby so he wants to stay on top of his health. He's a little surprised when Steve and Bucky adapt their diets to match his (if with doubled portions), but he figures he appreciates the solidarity, if he allows himself to think about it at all. They get into a deep, deep discussion about the pros and cons of disposable diapers vs cloth diapers. Tony can't even get a word in edgewise as they bicker over liquid absorption in cloth and skin irritation in disposable. Mostly he just waits to see what decision they're going to make. It feels like it's out of his hands. Then they seem to remember he's there, and they ask how he feels about it, and he says, "I'm going to be so tired and gross that I'll just do whatever is easiest." "Oh, we were going to do all the changing," Steve begins, and Bucky proudly adds, "I'm a pro. I changed tons of my sister's diapers," and Tony immediately starts heading toward the bedroom and stripping off his clothes, to their confused delight.

"...Of course we'll have a baby photo shoot," Tony says, bewildered. "I'm famous. We're famous," he corrects after some thought. "I want to put out the first pictures of my child, not have a paparazzo get the scoop." "Oh no, this is a horrifying implication that we didn't consider," Steve answers, putting his head in his hands. Tony stares at him, because this has not clarified anything. He turns his attention to Bucky. "Huh?" "The doctors made it pretty clear that this should be your only baby," Bucky offers hesitantly. "And we thought we should... appreciate every piece of it? So we thought doing some professional photos of you and your bump would be nice." "Oh," Tony says, brows furrowing together. "Um. I guess that sounds okay. Are you sure?" His hands come up to rest on his stomach, palms sliding over his baby bump. "I've got a lot of stretch marks. They're kind of ugly." "Every part of you is beautiful, Tony," Steve scolds. "Do you know how hard it is for me to not lick them? I am constantly exercising restraint." "It's true. He's very annoying when he complains about it," Bucky assures him. Tony raises his eyebrows. "I didn't need convincing. Steve is not subtle when he decides he wants to sketch me." "I'm totally subtle!" Steve exclaims. Tony pulls up his shirt a little. Steve's eyes immediately drop down to his stomach, pupils dilating, fingers twitching before he curls his hands into fists. "Oh my god," Bucky says, stunned, because apparently he'd never noticed before. "IS IT MY FAULT TONY IS SEXY IN ALL FORMS," Steve bellows defensively, and Tony responds, "It's too close to my afternoon nap to get horny, so keep it together. You can sketch me sleeping." Steve punches the air with a cheer. Bucky buries his face in a pillow to try and muffle his laughs. It doesn't work.

Nearer the end of his pregnancy, Tony eschews maternity wear and just puts on one of the alphas' shirts. Everyone, from their fellow Avengers to random people on the street, coo about how sweet and cute it is. Tony has always sort of prickled at the idea that he needs an alpha in his life to be whole, and prickled more at the whispers that he needs an alpha to control him. Not all of his decision to hold off mating was because he couldn't find someone he wanted to settle down with; part of it was also worry that any prospective alpha was holding out to do just that, wait until he was trapped to control him. He doesn't feel that way about Steve and Bucky though. They make him feel... safe. Wanted, even. So sometimes he likes to leave the tower wearing one of their shirts. It gets people to give him space. (And maybe he feels all warm and gooey inside when people gently rib him about it. But that's his business.) Steve and Bucky have never been in more pain in their lives. Tony kicks out of his shoes and pants as soon as he gets home, complaining about his swollen feet and ankles, so he's walking around in nothing but one of their shirts and maybe underwear, because he's complained about the waistband digging in uncomfortably the bigger he's gotten. How in the fuck are they supposed to cope? He's literally never been sexier. They're trying very hard not to be neanderthals about it, but it's difficult when he waddles around the penthouse, smelling of them and himself and baby, wearing nothing but a shirt and cradling his bump. It's a good thing this is his only baby because if they had to deal with this one more time they simply wouldn't let him off his back for ten months. Tony's smug about it when he notices, which makes it worse. He's so attractive when he's smug. It's not fair. (Except the suffering is worth it, when Tony coyly peers over his shoulder at them and lifts the back of his shirt up over the curve of his ass invitingly.)

Bonus: Tony has the baby and Steve cries a lot. He's too scared to hold her so Bucky lets him cradle his hands as he holds her. Tony supervises closely before finally saying, "Well, that was a lot," and promptly falling asleep sitting up. Steve and Bucky gape at him.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

"Knowing that this is all an act and really knowing it are two different things."

Yenskier! If you feel so moved 🥹🤞🏼

I always feel moved to write Yennskier! Here's a modern with magic AU with mentions of background Yenralt and Geraskier (can be read as pre-OT3)

The ring is perfect, a black pearl surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds, set in a white gold band. It’s exactly the kind of engagement ring that Yennefer would have picked out for herself, if she were the engagement ring type. The fact that Jaskier is the one that bought it—even sizing it perfectly somehow—annoys her to no end.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” Jaskier says, carrying a pile of dishes into the kitchen and dumping them into the sink. “What do you think, my pearl?”

Yennefer looks away from the ring, annoyed to have been caught gazing at it like a dewy-eyed schoolgirl who was just handed her first promise ring. “I think that was the most tedious three hours of my life, and Geralt used to drag me to all your open mic nights.”

“Your wifely support warms my heart.” He puts a hand to his chest. The wedding band he selected for himself is just as perfect for him, with a sapphire as big as his thumbnail. He’s probably going to put his eye out with that thing. “But I think they all bought us as a married couple, don’t you think?”

“Well, they haven’t tried to kill us yet.” Yennefer pours the last of the bottle of wine into her glass and leans against the counter, watching as Jaskier puts his ring on the counter and begins to scrub at the dishes.

“The Turners were a bit overly interested in where we’re from and who our families are,” Jaskier says. “But I think they may just be snobs, not necessarily thinking about sacrificing us to any forest gods.”

“Mrs. Paine was very interested in you.”

“Again, I think she may just be very bored in her marriage, not necessarily homicidal.”

“It’s possible to be both.”

“You speak with such experience.” Jaskier looks over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. “I promise you, my dove, marriage to be will be many things, but never boring.”

"We're not married."

“Yes, I know that.” He waves one sudsy hand. “But if we’re going to be doing this for Melitele knows how long, we may as well lean into it.”

Yennefer snorts. She would much rather have gone through this charade with Geralt, but her lover is on the other side of the Continent right now, pursuing another lead. So she’s stuck here with his other lover, investigating the suburbanites who may or may not be trying to harness the power of an ancient forest god. Which she could forgive, if they weren’t so insufferably dull about their potential apocalyptic plans.

“Lean into it?” she asks. “By going to play badminton with Mr. Paine tomorrow? Do you think their forest god is going to be at the country club?”

“I would hope not. Those clawed feet would probably be murder on the golf courses.” Jaskier chortles at his own joke. “I’m trying to get to know the people we’re supposed to be investigating. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

“Just don’t end up tied to any altars.”

“Worried about me, my sun?” He turns to bat his eyelashes at her.

“I just don’t feel like saving your ass tomorrow morning. I have yoga.”

“Well, you don’t have to save my ass. You own enough black clothing; you’ll be a convincing widow.”

“If you die, I’ll have to go to the Brewsters’ potluck alone and I don’t think I’ll make it through the night without turning someone into a hedge.” Plus, she promised Geralt that she would keep Jaskier safe. She tries to keep her promises to Geralt, even if it means not letting his idiot boyfriend get himself killed.

“The Brewsters actually seem perfectly lovely, so we can’t have that.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment, concentrating on scrubbing a tricky spot. His back is turned to her, but she can picture his tongue poking out of his mouth like it always does when he’s focused. “After I get home from badminton, I was thinking we could go look at paint colors.”

“For what?”

“The bedroom.”

“Why?”

“Well, you’ve only mentioned how tacky you find the green and pink seventeen times this week. I thought you might be bored of complaining about the same thing.”

“This isn’t really our house,” Yennefer reminds him. “The owners will remember it eventually and when they get back from their winter in Toussaint, they’ll wonder why their bedroom is a different color.”

“I’m sure you can just waggle your fingers and turn it back.” Jaskier waggles his fingers to demonstrate. “But we’re probably going to be here for a while, so you should like our bedroom.”

“It’s not really ours.”

“Right now, it is. Anyway, it could be a fun project for us next weekend.”

“When we’re not investigating the murderous cult?” Yennefer asks acidly, staring at the back of Jaskier’s head in disbelief. Of course Jaskier would settle into this suburban life so nicely; this is how he grew up. He has a pair of doting parents, four sisters, a gaggle of nieces and nephews. He grew up surrounded by this kind of mundanity, going to barbecues on weekends and watching his parents debate swatches of paint.

Yennefer has never been meant for this life. She went from a pigsty to Aretuza to the Aedirnian government. If her parents ever got invited to barbecues and games of badminton—unlikely, given that her stepfather was the town drunk—they never brought her along.

Not that Yennefer has any kind of interest in this type of domesticity. If she were to ever settle down, it wouldn’t be in a cul de sac of cookie cutter houses, identical save for the six different colors the HOA allows them to paint their doors. She wouldn’t spend her evenings hosting dinner parties for the dullest people she’s ever met. She wouldn’t be cohabiting with Jaskier, of all people.

Jaskier is talking, she realizes, though whatever he’s saying doesn’t seem to require her participation. As he waves his hand to emphasize his point, soap bubbles fly everywhere without him even seeming to notice. A splash of water comes perilously close to his ring, which lies forgotten on the counter. Yennefer picks it up to relocate it to a safer spot.

“Anyway,” Jaskier is saying. “I’m not a sorceress who can look into their minds or a witcher who can fight their forest god. The best thing I can do is casually bring up the local disappearances while I play badminton with Mr. Paine and make a mean brisket.”

“That was a decent brisket,” Yennefer admits grudgingly.

“Wasn’t it?” Jaskier turns to grin at her again. There’s a bubble of soap suds clinging to the tip of his nose. The sight makes her feel an unexpected, entirely irrational surge of fondness. She thinks about closing the distance between them to swipe it away. Instead, she grips the edge of the counter.

“Just don’t get attached,” she says. “These people aren’t your friends. At least one of them is a killer and given the number of disappearances, I wouldn’t be surprised if half the neighborhood is either in on it or knows what’s going on and is looking in the other direction because they’d rather focus on having the nicest hydrangeas on the block.”

His grin fades into a soft, almost sad little smile. “Don’t worry, Yenn, you don’t have to worry about me getting attached. I did theater in college. I know how to put on an act.”

Yennefer isn’t sure why that bothers her. It’s good that he’s consciously putting on an act; it’s what they’re here for. “Geralt dragged me to your plays too. They were terrible.”

That gets the expected offended noise from him. “It’s a good thing you’re not masquerading as a theater critic, Yennefer, because no one can accuse you of having good taste.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re not masquerading as an actor.”

“I want a divorce.”

“We’re not married.”

“Then I want a fake divorce.”

“Mr. Paine’s a divorce attorney, isn’t he? Bring it up with him tomorrow.” Yennefer realizes she’s still holding Jaskier’s ring, the absurdly large sapphire glittering in her palm, and sets it aside. “I’m going to go upstairs.”

“Fine.” He lets out a long sigh. “Leave me to my toils.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes and mutters a spell. A moment later, the dishes are stacked neatly in the dish drainer, all perfectly clean.

Jaskier turns to look at her incredulously. “You couldn’t have done that ten minutes ago?”

“A little manual labor is good for you.”

“Just for that, I’m painting the bedroom orange.”

“Still won’t be the tackiest thing in this house.” Pointedly, she looks over his outfit, eliciting another squawk of protest.

Smirking, she heads up the stairs to the master bedroom, stepping around the pile of bedding on the floor where Jaskier has been sleeping. Even though the room’s horrendous pink and green color scheme is nothing that Yennefer would choose for herself, the room is filled with the trappings of the life she and Jaskier are sharing here: a guitar leaning against the wall, a sweater discarded on the bed, the fake wedding photo Ciri photoshopped for them sitting on the dresser. 

Yennefer’s eyes linger on the photo. Ciri is a talented kid; only the most eagle-eyed observer would notice that Yennefer’s skin tone isn’t an exact match of the bride in the elegant lace dress. The false Jaskier stands behind the false Yennefer, arms around her waist, eyes twinkling with love and joy as he holds her close. Yennefer is fairly sure Ciri took his face from a photo of him with Geralt.

They talked about their wedding earlier, the stunning destination wedding to Skellige where Jaskier cried when he saw Yennefer walking down the aisle. They talked about their first meeting at the coffee shop where Jaskier used to work. They talked about Jaskier proposing in that same coffee shop two years later. It was the story of a happy, normal couple, and it was all entirely bullshit.

Yennefer sighs and twists off the perfect engagement ring, dropping it on her ring holder, before she goes to take off the seafoam green sundress she borrowed from Triss.

This is all an act, she tells herself. She just hopes that Jaskier doesn’t forget that.

***

Fake dating prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

[valeriefauxnom]

Dev's (C)Leo Biases,

Or,

A Comprehensive History of How Leonidas Became Nearly Everyone's Object of Thirst

So, among the Dragalia Lost team, it was rather well known that they admitted to a strong Cleo bias.

It's pretty easy to see, in anything from Cleo's early spate of alts, like Dragonyule and Summer in quick succession, to the utterly random unique outfits they flaunted in ch.9 that you can just tell they drew for funsies but really liked them and wanted to put them in the game despite it serving no real purpose...

The dev team just really, really loved Cleo and drawing her. But after they apparently used up their Cleo allowance to make Gala Cleo probably the single strongest character in the game at the time, they cooled it down a bit.

However, as much as they were apparently thirsting over Cleo, I would joke that somewhere along the way, some part of the dev team, feeling desperate now that the yearly Cleo Allowance was running dry as they prepared to release Gala Cleo, decided to find a new fixation to quench their addiction.

And since Cleo was off-limits, they turned to the next best thing: crossing out the C in Cleo to find their newest substitute Dev Thirst character.

That's right, we're talking about the one and only Leonidas.

Leonidas had kinda just melded into the background with the rest of the siblings at this point to my observations. Sure, he was a campaign antagonist. People weren't particularly clamoring for him in particular over the other siblings, though. Honestly, I'd wager Emile was more popular at this stage, even in a 'love to hate' sense, just because we'd already seen him so much.

But then, it started. Whether it was art like this being posted on their twitter just a few scant months before G!Cleo's debut...

...They just seemed to have a certain edge in artworks featuring Mr. Curry in a way to make one squint and tilt your head sideways.

For instance:

It's one of those cases where you just kinda get a feeling the artist(s) found x attractive in a way that simultaneously still can give you a moment of self-doubt if that's not just you projecting because there's no blatantly obvious signs, you know? Whether it's something about the posing, or angles, whatever it is, I got this air increasingly whenever they put out any Leonidas art.

Thankfully, they decided to put me out of my misery and just flat out make what's likely the single most suggestive wyrmprint (or honestly art piece in general since Dragalia was thankfully very very very tame) starring none other than, you guessed it, Leonidas.

(Secret Cygames/Nintendo conversation, probably: "As you can see, it's vitally important that we draw this character in a speedo with sparkles around him." Nintendo: "...I'll allow it. This time.")

Even if he puts on some more clothes in the refined version, we're still back to that air I mentioned, as the shot focuses almost entirely on him instead of the wildly popular Chelle or his pet panther (which, yes, seemed to be an actual pet of his):

Even the Ilia-damned funny chibi comics got in on this thirst train as it went on and made quite possibly the raunchiest joke in the entire 400+ comic run featuring Leonidas, even if the exact same joke didn't make the translation overseas, however they tried. You can see a brief breakdown of that in THIS post.

Not content to restrict it to art and comics, Leonidas also dropped this line that is permanently engraved into my mind with just how shocking it was to see anything of this caliber in Dragalia, in his baby brother's story to boot!

At this point, I could no longer deny it: the devs and artists had collectively acquired a new fixation to satiate their once insatiable Cleo appetite in the form of Mr. Currymeister. (Don't worry about Emile there, he's just drowning, he does that all the time in waist-high water)

And this attitude even extends to in-universe, too! People increasingly fawned over the first prince, who very much was filling in the role of 'this prince you know vs. his hotter and more competent elder brother', as virtually represented by my expert skills in Microsoft Paint artistry as such:

Naturally, there was only so much time before the people IRL could succumb to Leonidas Fever (and no, this time we're not talking about all the people who were so devoted to this dude to effectively set themselves into a fatal, firey, steroid-filled death!) at this unrelenting onslaught.

It was hard not to see comments such as these that started pouring in (and yes, all of these were just about Leonidas exclusively):

(I'll attribute the misspelling to being overcome with Leonidas Fever, a grave illness indeed!)

(Another serious symptom: the decline of any self-preservation instinct around Leonidas, who is indeed Very Dangerous and Will Kill You!)

Ahem. You get the picture. Thus concludes the slow, insidious buildup from just another sibling for Euden to probably commit a whoopsie-daisy fratricide in the future to one of the fandom's favorite menaces, all carefully plotted-out by the collective efforts of devs who were the first to succumb to the sickness...Right?

This concludes my professional historical report on this very serious issue that I suspect lingers to this day. The Fever has but been put into remission; it has not faded yet.

Extra:

So a long time ago I commented that some of the royal family seemed to have pointier teeth than normal, which I speculated because they deliberated giving a bit more 'draconic' traits to define dragonblood, and I didn't realize how pervasive this was until I saw Emile's model there. Look at his fang!

...

...How did I forget the weapon skin of Leo's gun is additionally named "Royal Dominator"?

[mlmmetalhead]

Sleepover

Martin Blackwood x Male reader

CW: canon typical mention of worms.

Summary: Martin is a little nervous with the whole "hunted by a supernatural worm lady" thing. Luckily, the friend he made from his work in the archives could be able to help him relax a bit!

"You don't have to, you know?" - Martin tried to reason with his friend nervously, watching as he threw his sleep bag onto the floor.

"I know! But I want to," - Y/n gives him a smile in response, - "you said you were creeped out by the archives at night, which I actually don't blame you for, so I'm making sure you're not staying alone!"

Martin smiles in response, as he lowers himself onto the unstable bed, looking as his friend tossed out more and more stuff from inside of the backpack he brought. A blanket, another one, his laptop, some snacks, spare clothes, all of them made a sound landing on each other. Martin felt his thoughts trail elsewhere, before hearing snapping fingers in front of his face.

"Earth to Martin? What are you thinking about with that pretty mind of yours?" - L/n grinned right in front of the guy's face.

Martin felt his cheeks heat up, as he awkwardly chuckled in response, looking away.

"Oh, nothing! You don't have to worry about it."

Y/n's expression became less cheerful, as he lowered himself onto his knees, taking Martin's palms in his own. They were warm, and a little sweaty, which the dark haired guy didn't seem to mind as he carefully caressed his friend's knuckles.

"No, I really want to know. What's keeping you from having fun with me tonight, hm? I won't tell anyone, scout's honor." 

Martin sighed, turning his gaze back to the green orbs, which almost seemed to stop blinking, deeply focusing on him. How could he think and find the right words when a really pretty guy was staring at him like this?

"It's... Uh... I- I'm scared, Y/n," - he finally found the power to try and explain himself, - "I'm really scared, because like... What if... What if the worms get me? Or you! Or John, or Tim, or Sasha, or... Point is, I don't want to feel like I'm unsafe in my own workplace. I don't like feeling constantly anxious about there being a possibility of something just... Happening to you! Or to me, or to John, or Tim or Sasha... I know I sound silly, like... It's just worms! Nothing to worry about, right? I mean they're pretty disgusting, but it's not deadly! At least... At least I thought so..."

Y/n brought his lips down and carefully pressed a gentle, almost unnoticeable kiss upon Martin's slightly shaking palms. Noticing the spark in the other's eyes and the pink dust on his cheeks, he chuckled and did it again.

"It's going to be okay, Martin. We got enough CO2, right? And I saw you crush some worms today! You're so brave, Martin! I promise we're going to be okay. You're going to protect us, right? But if you're feeling afraid, I will always protect you." And at the very end of his speech, he kissed Blackwood's palms again. In a sudden rush of courage, Martin caught the other's hand and brought it to his lips.

"Yes... yes, you're right. I will protect you."

L/n smiled, standing up to meet Martin's eyes and gently grabbing him by his slightly warm cheeks.

"I'm always here for you, Martin. Y'know, you don't have to bottle it all up... You always make a big deal of helping others, but who will help you?"

The man sighed, a smile with a trace of sadness painting itself on his lips. He looked away, feeling his heartbeat fasten with the newfound feeling of the other man's hands on his face.

"Yeah... Yeah, I know. Thank you, Y/n."

A comfortable silence enveloped the room, as L/n removed his hands from the archival assistant's burning cheeks, moving them down to his shoulders. And in an instant, much to Martin's quickly spreading horror, Y/n lifted himself and pressed his lips to the other guy's forehead. Oh if only he knew how crazy Blackwood was going over the gesture. Although the quickly reddening face and the wide eyes left little to the imagination.

"Sorry, are you alright? Maybe I shouldn't have done that?" - L/n chuckled, his fingers reassuringly running through the other man's fluffy hair.

"N-no! No, it's... It's okay.." - Martin rubbed the back of his neck, which was just as hot, trying to hold the plea for more tingling on his lips desperately. In moments like this, he always thought, maybe Y/n knew. Was he that obvious with his crush on the guy, and that was what he was being teased for?

"If you ever feel uncomfortable with the contact, tell me, okay? I understand I can be too much sometimes." - L/n smiled with guilt sprinkled on his face.

"No, I mean it, it's okay!" - Martin's hands gently grasped Y/n's shoulders, trying not to let the heat in his chest take the best of him. "Please keep your hands on me" - he almost allowed himself to mutter, before biting his lip for good. "I don't mind the contact, it's nice to know someone likes me enough to touch me, it's just... Unusual, is all." Blackwood blinked, not sure how the guy would react.

The response came quickly: with Y/n chuckling, and giving the poor man an another mini heart attack, as he wrapped his hands around his shoulders, relaxing around the other's body. Martin froze, feeling his heart beating against his ribcage. Slowly, he lifted his own hands and placed them around L/n's body, trying to relax a bit. When was the last time he was hugged? Martin doesn't really remember, nor does he want to think about that, as a sense of warmth spread around his body, and he could've sworn he felt Y/n's heartbeat, too. Although, might've been wishful thinking. Even if it felt like hours before they let go, Martin still longed for more, even if he didn't dare to state it, instead just smiling bashfully at the other man as L/n sat on the bed next to him, already having the laptop out.

"I was thinking we'd watch something, how does that sound? Any suggestions? Only one rule: no sad movies, I don't want to get emotional today, we already have enough to worry about."

"W-what about horror?"

"I don't know... Unless you're brave enough to spend a night in the archives after a scary movie!"

Martin chuckled, shifting to be closer to Y/n, looking at the screen of his laptop, scanning through the movie options. With the warmth of the other man by his side, he finally decided to murmur something, even if it was barely audible.

"I won't be scared as long as you're here."

[jahayla-parker]

Bewitched Love : Peter Parker x Reader

Part 19

Bewitched Love Series Navigation

Desc. & Warnings: 1.7k wc, see navigation for description and warnings

Recap:

“I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. We're gonna get through this, and we're gonna get through it together. Okay?” Y/n declared.

Peter smiled as he sniffled faintly. “Okay,” he said, placing his hands over y/n’s.

Y/n grinned and leaned her forehead against Peter’s. “Est us,” she whispered; it’s us.

Peter lightly laughed as he and the other Spider-Men rambled about the way they did they web-shooting functions. “Anyway, we're getting sidetracked,” he said, trying to redirect the group. “Look, this is where we're gonna do this, okay? It's isolated, so no one should get hurt.” Peter glanced at each of his friends but his gaze lingered on y/n longer than the rest. “We draw them there with the box, it's the one thing they all want. All we have to do is figure out how we're gonna get there,” he explained.

Y/n opened her mouth to suggest she could try a spell when Ned’s face lit up.

“Oh, we can portal there,” Ned commented casually.

Peter’s gaze snapped from y/n to Ned. “What?” he questioned.

Ned shrugged. But, his smirking lips exposed his true feelings. “I'm magic now,” Ned stated.

Y/n and Peter faced each other in confusion.

MJ laughed lightly at her friends’ reactions. “Yeah, no, no. He's right,” she nodded affirmatively. “He can. He can,” MJ promised.

“Yeah, we saw him,” the older Spider-Man agreed.

“Yeah. He is,” the other Spider-Man stated.

Y/n shrugged as Peter kept staring at her. “I felt something when he first took hold of Strange’s ring, but…” she shrugged again.

“Wait, really?” Peter asked, facing Ned.

Ned nodded with a wide grin. “Dude, I got Doctor Strange magic,” he bragged.

Peter couldn’t process how to respond. So he found himself merely repeating his confusion. “What?”

“Yeah!” Ned exclaimed. His excitement suddenly turned into shyness. “And I promise you...” Ned mumbled, focusing on Peter. “I won't turn into a supervillain and try to kill you,” he promised.

Even after the younger of the two new Spider-Mans patted Ned on the back and nodded approvingly, Peter was still confused. He nodded slowly, biting his lip as he silently questioned his friend’s statement. “O-kay... Thank... you?” Peter mumbled. “Um... Alright. Here goes nothing,” he said, redirecting the group back to their plans.

“Maybe… uhh,” y/n spoke quietly. When her Peter nodded at her to speak her mind, she smiled. “So, I expect you three,” y/n began, looking at the various Spider-Mans, “will get confused when talking to each other out there, so…”. She giggled nervously and bit her bottom lip, “maybe you could use nicknames , or I don’t know, something, to differentiate yourselves from one another?”

Peter smiled at y/n supportively, agreeing with her suggestion. “Umm, we don’t have time to get into creative ones,” he pointed out, “do either of you already have any?”

Both of the new Spider-Mans sighed and shook their heads ‘no’.

“Okay,” Peter hummed, “uh, let’s… I’ll be Peter 1..?” He pointed at the Spider-Man closest to him -the older man-, “you’ll be Peter 2?” He spun towards the other guy, “Peter 3?”.

Y/n sighed with relief when everyone agreed on the assigned nicknames. She was no longer as worried about the cohesion between the heroes. They’d only met tonight and it was going to be hard enough to work together without truly knowing or trusting each other. Ideally they’d have been able to bond a bit more before the fight, but time didn’t permit that. So, y/n was glad they at least weren’t all going to be called by the same name tonight.

The group had separated briefly, each person doing their own thing to finalize their preparations for the upcoming fight. Peter 2 was removing his outer clothing to uncover his Spider-Man suit underneath. Ned was talking with MJ about what they’d each been working on moments ago.

Peter was watching nervously as y/n was trying to fix her suit as much as possible. His eyes drifted from her tired but determined eyes to her wounded and bruised yet stitched-up leg. Peter’s heart beat loudly and rapidly in his chest as he bit deep into his lip.

Peter didn’t want to have to have this conversation with y/n. He knew no matter what he said it would seem like he didn’t think she could handle it. But, it wasn’t like that. Peter just couldn’t risk losing her.

Y/n was repeating a variety of common spells in her mind, being sure to simultaneously mentally tell her energy to not actually do them. She needed to make sure she didn’t mess up any spells. While her conversation with Peter before their friends arrived helped her feel less at fault for May’s death, she didn’t want to risk anything. There was too much at stake. Y/n knew she’d need to truly focus to properly help Peter finish fixing this chaos, help from the others or not.

Y/n sucked in a deep breath as she reminded herself to be confident in her abilities. She’d learned from her fight with Agatha just how important her confidence was in battle situations. Content with her preparedness, y/n decided she should go check on Peter Peter 1; her Peter.

Peter 1 was hesitantly making his way towards his girlfriend when she spun to face him. He felt himself freeze as y/n smiled supportively at him. This wasn’t going to be easy. But, Peter knew it needed to be done.

“Amica mea, are you okay?” Y/n questioned immediately upon seeing her boyfriend Peter’s worried stare.

Peter 1 shifted his bottom lip underneath the pressure from his top teeth, eyes glued to the floor. When y/n grabbed his hands, he forced himself to look up at her. “I… y/n,” Peter sighed, “you should… uhh… stay with MJ and-”.

“Peter, no,” y/n sighed, “respectfully, no”. She shook her head adamantly, fear rising in her. Y/n didn’t want to leave Peter to handle this situation on his own. Sure he’d have the other guys, but y/n wanted to be there to make sure someone was focused on keeping him safe too and not letting him sacrifice himself in anyway.

“Y/n/n, I clearly underestimated these villains,” Peter 1 complained. “And, look what happened,” he mumbled. “I.. It’s dangerous.”

Y/n nodded in agreement. “I know it is, that’s why I’m going,” she argued. “You’re not alone in this, Peter,” y/n reminded him.

Peter 1 calmly stepped closer to y/n. “I know,” he said appreciatively, “an-and, thank you”. Peter’s eyes watered as he held y/n’s face in his hands. “But I can’t lose you, I.. I-I c-can’t-,” he choked.

Y/n’s eyes softened as she frowned. She held her hands over her Peter’s hands as they rested on her cheeks. “Everything’s going to be fine, I’m going to be fine,” y/n encouraged.

“I-” Peter 1’s voice broke. He took in a shaky breath as he weakly shook his head. “Please, I … I…” he sighed. “I know we work good together,” Peter admitted, making y/n nod. “But, t-tonight, I… I really need to kn-know you’re s-safe,” he pleaded breathily.

Y/n bit her lip and sighed lightly. “I don’t want to argue babe, I just… I don’t want you trying to do this alone”. Y/n gave Peter a sympathetic smile, “I understand you want me safe, but I want you safe too Peter”.

Peter 1 sniffled as a small smile formed on his face. He nodded rapidly, “the o-other Spider-Mans are enough”. “They-they’ve fought those guys before, I’ll be safe”.

Y/n took a deep breath. She hesitantly nodded faintly, still unsure she was okay with this plan. But, she also refused to push her boyfriend. He’d just lost Aunt May, y/n had no doubt he felt he needed to be so overprotective of y/n now.

Peter 1 easily picked up on the reluctance in y/n’s considerate agreement. He rewarded her with a grateful smile, his hands tenderly squeezing her cheeks. “Thank you, I j-just can’t lose you,” he explained, “e-especially not after May”. Peter closed his eyes and leaned in until his lips embraced y/n’s.

“We-we’re still in this together, deliciae,” Peter promised when his lips parted from y/N’s. “Besides, you’ll be able to ensure that things stay on course if Ned’s … magic? Doesn’t work the way we need,” he said, trying to soften the blow of needing her to stay behind. “But, I’ll see you soon,” Peter nodded with a determined expression.

As the group exchanged hugs and words of encouragement, y/n stood beside the Spider-Mans from the other universes. She glanced over to ensure her Peter was distracted. After y/n confirmed her Peter Peter 1 was busy talking to their friends, she faced the other Spider-Mans. “Okay,” y/n started.

The men startled faintly due to the intensity behind y/n’s demeanor.

“You have,” y/n said, looking over at her Peter briefly, “you have to protect him”. She took a deep breath and focused her gaze on the men before her. “Please, I-” she sighed. “He blames himself for this and f-for Ma-May,” y/n shook her head slowly, “I’m worried he’ll risk his safety to overcompensate to-”.

Peter 3 nodded, grabbing y/n’s hand and squeezing it. “I understand,” he smiled sympathetically. “I also know you want to be there yourself,” Peter 3 hummed, “but, we’ll watch him for you”.

Peter 2 smiled and nodded towards y/n. “He’ll be fine,” he encouraged. “These guys were going to cure? They’ve reach only gone up against one Spider-Man. But, tonight? There’s three”. Peter 2’s confident stance softened as he stared intently at y/n, “we’ve got his back”.

Y/n smiled as she nodded in appreciation. “Th-thank you,” she replied breathily. She looked over at her Peter just as he turned to her. Y/n’s soft smile grew as he walked over and pulled her in for one more hug.

“I’ll be careful,” Peter promised y/n, seeing the worry she was trying to hide. He closed his eyes and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, “I’ll do my best”. Peter leaned back to look at the group, “Here goes nothing. If this doesn’t work-”.

Y/n stopped Peter by closing her eyes and shaking her head. “It will work,” y/n declared. As she looked around their newly formed team, she offered an encouraging smile with a determined expression in her eyes. “We’re going to make it work. We’re going to kick some ass,” she argued.

Peter 1 smiled at y/n, “okay”.

Peter 2 hummed. “Cure,” he corrected softly. “Cure some ass.”

Ned wrapped his arm around y/n and nodded at the three Spider-Mans. “Cure that ass,” he agreed. Ned’s wide smile sealed the deal and soon everyone parted for their assigned starting points.

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Taglist:

@justapurrcat @natswife-marvelicious @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @theslayerofthevampires

[charcuteriecrab]

Hihi again!!!! I hope it’s not rude of me to request a second fic, but I saw your Chreon requests were still open and I had an idea; maybe Leon having to carry Chris bridal-style for whatever reason???? Or vice versa?? (Just the image of Leon carrying giant-muscles-Chris Redfield is hilarious to me AHXNDHSNDH) like maybe one of thems hurt, or they’re just doing it for fun etc etc??

Hi @wisecrackingeric-2 !! I saw this request and immediately knew I had to write it. I couldn't settle on one idea though, so I turned it into a 3+1! Three times Chris carried Leon and one time Leon carried Chris. I hope you like it :)

in my dreams, we're far away from here (Part 1)

A Resident Evil fic request

Rating: M

Contains: blood, strong language, gore, injury

Tags: Chreon, Major Character Injury, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2072

Part 1/5 Next ->

1.

Chris had been home alone from a mission for about three days, getting ready to head to sleep as it was 1 am, when Leon finally came home, bags under his eyes and posture visibly drooping with exhaustion. The man stepped through the door, keys jingling, all but dropping his things to the floor, and slumped onto the couch with a groan. At first, Chris was worried that his boyfriend was injured and scanned his body thoroughly, sighing with relief when he didn’t see any blood. Not dying then, just tired.

Kneeling at the edge of the black-stained leather couch they had bought only a few weeks ago, Chris leaned closer to the man, eyeing the splotchy bruises around his collarbone and the bottom part of his neck. “Hey, Leon. You okay?” He spoke softly, not wanting to spook him. He was still worried something was wrong. He didn’t greet him when entering.

Leon’s eyes, previously closed, fluttered open and he groaned, gaze glazed over. “...Chris?” His hands rose to his face and he rubbed his palms deep into his sockets. Chris didn’t like how confused Leon was to see him.

He decided he needed to know for sure whether or not he was injured so he could put the man to bed as soon as possible. “There any injuries I need to know about, Lee?” He rubbed a hand across Leon’s knee, the textured jeans sending tingles through his fingers. 

The touch seemed to break his far-away gaze and Leon sniffed in, posture stiffening. “No. Nothing life-threatening.”

Chris fought the urge to grit his teeth. Leon hid his injuries so easily, and that was something Chris was trying to change. He assumed it was a habit he gained from being sent on so many solo missions. If he wasn’t actively dying, he was still expected to keep going. “Can you tell me anyway?” he said softly, rubbing a thumb across his knee again.

Leon seemed to deflate, his eye-bags somehow darkening. “Got some bruised ribs…my collarbone’s all beat up.” His eyelids fell to half-mast and he leaned further into the couch cushions. “...got thrown into a wall again.” His eyes closed, and Chris brushed his fingers against Leon’s leg again to comfort him. He was proud he was sharing his injuries. “It hurts,” Leon exhaled painfully, then not a moment later his expression went slack, his face turning soft.

Chris was glad to hear that was the worst of his injuries but was pissed that someone hurt him this badly. It infuriated him that the DSO constantly sent him on solo missions. He should at least have a partner. Someone to have his back other than Hunnigan. Then maybe he would stop coming home to Chris so battered.

Deciding to have a conversation with Leon later about it, he carefully scooped his passed-out boyfriend into his arms bridal-style, wary of his bruises, and carried him to their room. Chris laid him out gently, smiling warmly when his hair flopped into his face. He was so cute when asleep. 

Removing his many layers of clothing, Chris then took the time to bandage what he could, focusing on the man’s ribs. Dark purple and sickly yellow bruises covered much of his torso and Chris swore he saw what looked to be a large handprint on his right ribcage. Tyrant size. He nearly growled but stopped himself. Getting angry would do nothing at the moment, but these marks implied a close shave with death. It would have taken only a little more pressure to crush Leon’s rib cage.

Once Leon was bandaged as much as Chris could, he slipped under the sheets himself, cuddling closer into his warmth before pulling the man close to his chest protectively. He would worry about the DSO later. For now, he relished the fact that his boyfriend came back to him alive.

Leon hummed, eyes fluttering open again. "Chris?"

Chris placed a kiss on his temple, letting it linger. "I'm here." He pressed his face against the back of Leon's neck and sighed. It must have been days since Leon slept if he was this out of it. "How long’s it been since you slept?"

Another hum. "I don't remember…how many days was I gone?"

"About four days, Lee."

The man sighed, all the air in his lung expelling in one exhalation. "Probably that long then."

Chris made a sound of discontent and pulled Leon closer, the man snuggling into the warmth. He must have been fighting for his life for at least that long if he didn't allow himself to sleep. The damage underneath the blankets supported the idea. And he was all alone, having to fight for four days straight without any backup.

"We'll talk about it once you get some sleep," he murmured, and Leon nodded slightly. Chris could feel the tension leave him as he finally let himself relax fully, leaning back against Chris.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice wavering.

Chris responded with another kiss on his back. He would always be a shoulder for Leon to lean on, no matter what. And one day, he was going to convince the DSO to give him a partner for future missions, no matter what it took.

2.

“You're being unreasonable."

"No, I think you're the unreasonable one."

"It's a blizzard outside! You would freeze before you got there," Chris exclaimed, gesturing wildly out the window, heavy snow flurries flying past the glass. It was completely white out there.

Leon was attempting to convince Chris that he could walk to the convenience store down the road to buy more of his favorite yogurt without freezing to death or slipping on the ice and hurting himself, and Chris wasn't budging. The news said to stay in unless it was an emergency, and Leon always ran cold anyway.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Nope. Not happening."

Leon gave him the biggest pout Chris had ever seen the man give, crossing his arms and staring him down. He had his coat in hand, and winter gloves ready to be put on in his other. Chris shook his head, smiling at his antics. "I'm not letting you freeze."

"And how are you going to stop me?"

In an instant, Chris launched himself to his feet, grabbing Leon and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the man yelping in surprise and his winter gear falling to the floor.

"Chris! Put me down. I need my yogurt!"

"We'll go together once the blizzard dies down." He walked into the living room and plopped Leon onto the couch, his boyfriend letting out an "oof” at the impact and staring at him wide-eyed, mouth agape. "For now, we are going to cuddle and watch a movie. Unless you don't want to hang out with your loving boyfriend." He raised his eyebrows.

Leon sighed heavily, expression going wistful. "Fine," he drawled, "but you owe me a lot of yogurt."

Chris laughed. "Alright, I promise we’ll get you as much yogurt as you want later."

Moving himself off his back, Leon grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and wrapped himself in it as Chris sat down, grabbing the remote. They ended up watching the first and second ‘How to Train Your Dragon’ movies, the storm slowly dying off as they watched, unaware of the peaceful snow falling from the sky. Chris always enjoyed those movies, and he knew that Leon liked them too. He could even hear the man listening to the soundtrack sometimes when he was cleaning.

The afternoon stretched into night, the winter day darkening earlier than normal and casting their apartment in warm light as the sun fell away. The window turned dark as the end credits played and Chris yawned, looking down at Leon with a smile. He had fallen asleep, his mouth slightly open, a little drool falling out of the corner. He was absolutely adorable.

He would move him later, for now, he laid his head on Leon's, closing his eyes contently. He wished they could stay like this forever. Maybe he could pretend they didn’t have dangerous jobs, at least for tonight. He thought they deserved at least that.

3.

It had been a week since Chris last saw his boyfriend and he was getting restless. His team even picked up on it, giving him weird looks and telling him he was “acting strange”.

He just couldn’t get Leon out of his head. Or more specifically, Leon naked underneath him in bed.

The man was the most gorgeous person he had ever laid eyes on. Ever since he met him, Chris had to fight to keep his eyes off him. And now that he was his, he almost couldn’t believe it. They had been dating for a few months at this point but it felt like they had known each other their whole lives. Well, he guessed they kinda had, and if circumstances were different, they probably would have worked together at the RPD, a fact he thought about often.

Leon was on break and at home, waiting for Chris to come back, and he was so excited to see him. He missed him so much. He knew rationally he wasn’t gone that long but every second away from Leon made his heart hurt in a way he never knew it could.

The ride home was a blur and soon he was pulling up to their apartment complex. He had texted Leon when had gotten off the plane so he knew he was coming. Chris went in the elevator up to their floor and to their loft, not bothering to knock, and stepped inside, the latch sliding open with a click.

Chris was immediately hit with the smell of something Italian, the aroma permeating the air and enveloping him warmly. Gaze moving to the kitchen, he spotted Leon—

The man was cooking something in a skillet and a pot of boiling water and noodles sat on the burner to his left. His hair, not as dark anymore as he hadn’t dyed it in a while, shone brightly in the warm kitchen lighting. He was smiling softly to himself before turning to the door, his grin widening when he saw Chris standing there.

“Chris!” Leon beamed, giving whatever was in the skillet another stir and turning off the burner before rushing over to him and enveloping him in a hug, and Chris hugged back even tighter, breathing in Leon’s familiar scent, Italian spices unable to mask it. 

God, he missed this. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been a week,” Leon said, but he could tell the man was relieved to see him, his voice betraying him. He pulled away slightly and looked into Chris’s eyes.

“I know, but still. It was too long.” Chris cupped Leon’s face and the man leaned into the touch. 

He pulled him close and placed a kiss on his lips, Leon moaning into his mouth. Chris gripped his hair with both hands, deepening the kiss. His boyfriend responded by in turn and his hands started groping Chris’s back, fingers scratching to find something to hold onto. 

“Chris,” he whined, voice husky, and Chris could feel his arousal excite as Leon sang his name.

He pulled away slightly, Leon whining at the loss of connection, before yelping as Chris picked him up and placed him on the kitchen counter, kissing him again. Leon placed his hands around his neck just as Chris grabbed tightly onto Leon’s loose t-shirt, warmth pooling in his abdomen. Chris groaned as Leon pushed in his tongue and both started to pant, arousal clear in their sweat-beaded faces.

They slowed down, placing more chaste kisses on each other’s lips, sucking in breaths before leaning against each other.

“How about we continue this in the bedroom after we eat? I would hate for our dinner to go cold.” Leon eventually said.

Chris found himself laughing. “I guess you’re right. I’m excited to see what my awesome boyfriend cooked up for us.” He placed a kiss on his now-exposed neck, sucking a little.

He moaned. “Keep this up and I won’t be able to contain myself long enough to finish cooking, much less eat it.” He pushed himself off the counter, placing another kiss on Chris’s lips. “Go set up the table or something while I finish up.”

“You got it, boss,” he laughed.

| Next-> |

[oddogoblino]

Attempt to write fanfiction, I dont write often so I hope this is good! Also not used to writing/sharing fics I make on tumblurb

Characters: Stickers the Goat (my oc) , Egghog! Shadow & Silver, Egghog!Amy (@themetalvirus 's au characters)

Daisies

It was early morning, the sun carefully rising up to welcome the fresh blue of the morning sky into the world that many were barely waking up in. Though "many" did not include a certain stressed out, dark colored hedgehog and his rather delighted, brightly colored friend. Both awake either due to it being one of their usual routines, and the other because of the event that'd been planned for today. Shadow was much more focused about cleaning himself, their clothes, and this place they'd been using as a home for a while now.

"He's going to be here any minute now!" Both of the early risers had said, Amy with an eagerness in her voice and the latter with an anxious tone, unsure if he was expected to make some sort of snack to offer their guest or not. Why was he so worried about this? Well, the guest in question was actually someone quite bizarre, even strange as some others could say, for one simple fact alone. Their guest was a mobian willing to actually be Shadow and Silver's friend.

Silver, who'd been enjoying sleeping in, woke up due to the ruckus Amy and Shadow's rummaging around made, the sound of Shadow's giant boots especially causing him to stirr. Without needing any demands from his brother though, he went about getting himself ready and primed to go, using his powers to make and levitate some breakfast to himself just in time as a knock had came from the front door. The sound had snapped Shadow out of his cleaning frenzy and took the three hedgehogs' attention over to the barely awake seeming goat that was waiting outside.

"Hey, I forgot to turn on my alarm but no worries, the sun blinded me. Sooo, you two ready to go?" Stickers said casually, gently kicking his foot across the ground as he smiled to the happy Rose that had greeted him. "Hi! Yes, of course they are!! Cmon, cmon, off you all go! Enjoy your walk!! Have fun", Amy excitedly ushered them out as she spoke, the brothers making surprised noises of complaint due to the suddenness of the action.

Before they knew it, they were already outside, the orange and cream colored goat nearly stumbling backwards. By the time their guest caught himself, he was already heading off with an almost unbalanced stride. "Alright then i guess, c'mon! Where we're heading is real nice. I'm sure you two will like it- maybe. Im hoping you will." With that, they'd all began heading out towards one of the forested paths, the sound of their feet traversing the terrain and Sticker's tail wagging in silent excitement being the majority of the only sounds that disrupted the noises the forest made.

☆

It'd been a couple of minutes now after having heading out, and while they didn't feel tired, they couldn't seem to place down why their rare companion wanted to do this of all things over maybe eating at a cool restaurant. Silver was the first to disrupt the quiet. "So, why did you want to walk out here again? I know we're heading somewhere but we could've gotten you there a lot faster than you, you know, youre pretty slow", the gray hedgehog said in an almost judgemental tone, earning a jab in the side from his darker brother, "ow- hey! I was just asking!"

Stickers's ears flopped up for a second before resting back in their usual position, the fluffy mobian turning to look toward his new friends with a grin. "No big reason really, I just really like seeing how pieces of the world have changed since I've left them. I've been here many times, yet everytime I pass through here the forest always shares something new and wonderful", he hummed a bit, looking around and getting a small skip to his walk, the muffled sound of the contents in his backpack rustling together joining each of his excited movements.

The two squinted their eyes a bit in confusion to the response they'd been given. "Im...sorry- if this comes across as rude but what does that even mean?" Shadow furrowed his brows a bit as he'd spoken, not understanding the weird mystical wizard message the goat gave. Making a small amused face though, Stickers just chuckled as he responded. "Oh, I just like lookin's at stuff. Like those weeds, they're pretty, aren't they?" He'd pointed off to some small wildflowers that were trying to grow out of a mix of grass and tree roots.

It took the two a second to slow down and really stare at the sight, letting Stickers pass them a little, they hadn't even noticed those flowers around before. As they stopped to see the tiny wild flower patch, they began noticing other types of flowers were all around them too, hidden between grass blades and the shadows of trees. All of them were such different colors and sizes. Even the same kinds had something special to it, richer colors or more pastel hues. How long had these all been around them? How many flowers had they torn apart in their father's missions, all without even noticing they were there to begin with?

"Huh...I guess they really are...Yeah, they're nice..", the dark hedgehog said quietly, his awe interrupted by the sound of Silver letting out an excited "ooo" noise. He then noticed his brother's eyes seemed to light up with a feeling he knew he must've had taking over his own face too, wonder. "Yeah! They're real nice. It's hard not to just stop and look at them, buuut- I'll try not to slow you both down to watch. Where we're heading is even nicer anyways", Stickers said, trying to speed up a little and avoid getting too distracted. Despite this, the ex-villains found themselves now walking at the same pace as their traveler companion. With their eyes feelings drawn to finding as many new sights as possible, they couldn't help but be enthralled by the scenery, nature whistling around them softly.

☆

The rest of their hike was spent with the sheltered mobians asking about some types of plants, Stickers telling them or admitting he doesn't know either, and them enjoying the walk. At some point, it seemed the flowers were getting scarce on their path, only tiny yellow flowers decorating their path. In response, the not-as-fancily dressed wanderer's tail began wagging more as he began trying to run, sometimes jokingly nudging one of the brothers as they all began traveling up the path, encouraging them to join in play until they were all lightheartedly speed walking and shoving each other in unrewarded competition. It was a bit difficult, and they did have moments of panic where one might've shoved their not super-powered friend into the floor or a tree. Regardless though, Stickers would always laugh, scratch away at any dirt at his fur, and rush back to shove whoever had done it and speed off further down their path.

This lasted for a while until suddenly, Stickers had grabbed their hands and practically rolled them off the path a bit, the two nearly going into defense mode on him for this until they quickly noticed the world he'd yanked them into. They'd fallen into a sea of white flowers, the scent of a very subtle version of that classic plant smell hitting them in the rush of falling into them. Stickers rolled himself up into a sitting position and sighed contently, laughing a bit as he saw the confusion on the two's faces.

"What- what are these?" The hedgehogs asked, almost at once as they were in complete shock at the lovely sight they'd landed into, Silver sounding more excited and desperate to know. Happily setting down some cases full of foods and drinks he'd gathered for their trip, the he-goat grinned and gently brushed his hand through some of the flowers around him. "They're daisies! Though on another note, let's eat. We had a long hike and I'm starving!"

As they took in their surroundings, Shadow and Silver pulled themselves up and sat by Stickers, slowly letting themselves relax in the cluster of whites, purples, and yellows as they got their shares of what this strange friend had brought for them to eat. Letting themselves sit still within the daisies, it was hard not to notice why exactly Stickers wanted to bring them here. It was beautiful. The trees, while providing them shade, were spread out to make a clearing that held flowers that soaked in the sun's light, the grass a thriving green, and not too far from it was a nice creek that glistened like it was magical.

Everything worked together to highlight other details, like a painting, perfected from what could've been thousands of years to make this exact image. Silver and Shadow were in awe, just smiling as they enjoyed their meals and took in the melody of the forest around them, every distant animal noise, the rustle of the trees being shaken by the breeze, and every song the wind brushing against the other types of flora brought. It was nice. It was pretty.

Who knew this was all just out of their reach. They began to realize what Amy was trying so hard to protect exactly. They'd never experienced it themselves to fully understand her love before, never thought to find what she saw in things until now. Now they saw that this was what she'd been defending all this time. This is what was worth fighting for, daisies.